The roaring descent of the shuttle Lancelot tore the clear blue sky in two with heat and flames and metal.

‘We’re coming in way too hot.’ Kharth’s grasp on the control panel turned white-knuckled as she watched the readings spill on the shuttle’s sensors.

‘We’re supposed to come in hot!’ yelled Shep from the pilot’s seat. ‘Let me worry about the heat on our faces, you worry about the heat on our asses!’

A glance at the tactical sensors justified Shep’s apprehensions when a fresh ping appeared mere hundreds of metres off their aft. They had indeed been followed. Kharth swore and swung to work. ‘You better set us down neat, because I’m going to need all deflector power to the rear.’

‘Stop sweating, K.’ A wide, wicked smile took over the expression of Commander Zihan Shepherd, first officer of the USS Endeavour. ‘I got this. You got this.’

Instinct made Kharth bristle at being reassured like that. She knew exactly how good she was. But there was something about Shep’s enthusiastic confidence that made her sound comradely, not condescending. Shep wasn’t telling Kharth something she already knew about herself. They were sharing in being badasses together.

Resentfully, Kharth did her job and did it well. The Romulan craft came tearing down through the atmosphere behind them, and she knew Shep needed to focus on setting their flaming shuttle down rather than evading weapons fire. But the enemy didn’t want them dead, just badly maimed, so it became a game of pumping up shields to the rear, managing energy levels so they still had juice left in an emergency.

Not that trying to crash-land a shuttle amidst rugged highlands below wasn’t already an emergency.

‘You really pissed them off,’ Kharth growled as the Lancelot rocked from enemy weapons fire.

‘Really? I thought I’d won them over.’ Another alert klaxon yowled. ‘Did they forget we’ve got what they want aboard?’

‘Looks like! You were just that charming!’ Kharth smacked a control. The system blatted at her in protest. ‘Okay, we’re pretty much out of juice, so can you win our way to a soft landing?’

‘Soft? No. Landing?’ Shep hesitated. ‘Maybe also no. Hang on!’

Another blast of weapons fire from the Romulans. Another bucking of the shuttle. Then peerless blue sky above was spinning, swapping in and out for the rocky greens and greys of the highlands below, and all Kharth could do was hang on as Shep, swearing, tried to right them on the way down. There was a lurch. The sense of floating. Then the impact.

It was technically good, Kharth knew as she was almost thrown from her seat, that they scraped across the surface of Navinor II for what felt like a hundred years. Metal seared on earth and rock, but the shuttle didn’t break apart and it didn’t roll and though the safety harness felt like it might cut through her shoulders the inertial dampeners still kicked in enough that she didn’t snap her neck from whiplash.

Their halt was not peaceful. The metal hull creaked and groaned, alert klaxons blared on top of each other, and the shuttle had come to a stop on its starboard side, but for a moment there was stillness. For a moment, Kharth could close her eyes and catch her breath and mentally check she had all her limbs.

‘Hey, K?’ Shep’s voice was light despite how ragged it came.

Kharth let out a slow breath. ‘Yes, Shep?’

‘You dead, K?’

‘No, Shep.’ Kharth reached for the straps on her safety harness, mindful to undo them carefully so she didn’t release herself to gravity’s tender mercies and the bulkhead below. ‘That Vulcan’s going to kill us.’

‘No sweat.’ After a quick struggle, Shep pulled herself free of the chair and stood on the bulkhead that was now their floor, dignified as a cat pretending it hadn’t fallen in the first place. ‘Let her be mad at me. XO’s gotta shoulder some burdens.’

Kharth hadn’t intended to like Commander Shepherd. She was more than an outsider; she was a spy, an agent, sent to Endeavour for political purposes. Her first loyalty was plainly to Fleet Captain Jericho and his swaggering mob, not this captain, this crew, this ship. More than that, Shep’s daringness came across as impulsive, often seeming like she hadn’t thought more than two steps ahead, like she was making it up as she went along. Kharth wasn’t sure yet if this was an affectation or if Shep was just lucky or talented or both.

But despite her apparent ego and ulterior motive for being here, when she’d come aboard it had been clear she’d done her homework. She’d known Kharth’s past achievements and complimented her on them in a way which felt genuine. She’d quickly identified the strengths of Endeavour’s senior staff and shown a knack for knowing when to trust them, when to give them the long rein, and how to encourage and acknowledge them in a way that made them feel valued.

‘I knew Karana Valance,’ Kharth had said in one terse, early meeting in the XO’s office. ‘You’re no Karana Valance.’

Shep had just raised her eyebrows with no sign of offence. ‘I’m not trying to fill those big boots. I’ll make my own.’

This open loyalty to Commander Valance had of course only manifested in Kharth once Valance had left, and either Shep didn’t know or had the good sense to not point out Kharth and Valance fought like cats and dogs, diametrically opposed in their approach to the universe at large. Which was another reason Kharth found herself, despite it all, begrudgingly liking Zihan Shepherd. Both of them liked to tear it up a little on missions.

‘How’s the payload?’ asked Shep, stretching limbs and patting herself down to ensure she was in one piece.

Kharth glanced at the crates in the back. ‘Still solidly strapped down. Not crushing us to death in the landing.’

‘And so do those nerds writing safety protocols save another life.’

‘Starfleet! Treacherous scum! You better come out here!’ The words echoed from outside the shuttle, from the rugged green valley they’d come crashiwn into.

‘That was fast,’ muttered Shep, moving to peer out of the battered canopy. ‘Yeah. That’s Trellian. Not alone.’

Kharth clicked her tongue and looked at the control panels. They were all dead. ‘Where did we come down?’

‘Exactly where I meant to.’ Shep hesitated. ‘Give or take a klick or so.’

‘A klick –’

‘It’s fine. Stick to the plan. And tool up.’ Stiff but uninjured, Shep headed for the aft of the shuttle and pulled a phaser rifle from the locker hanging on the bulkhead above, before smacking the door to the rear hatch. To everyone’s surprise, it groaned open.

‘We’ve got a plan?’ Kharth muttered, but did the same, and followed.

Trellian and his gang, members of the Romulan Rebirth Movement, had beamed down from the ship that hovered high above them and formed a semi-circle around the aft of the shuttle. There were only five of them, but that was five too many with a skiff’s weapons trained on them and absolutely no cover.

Still, Shep swaggered out like she was arriving at a party, rifle resting against the shoulder of her dusty uniform, and squinted at the horizon of jagged green hills and jutting grey rocks. ‘Huh. This planet really is pretty.’

‘Makes a great place to die, Starfleet.’ Trellian still bore the marks of their first run-in, the vicious cut slicing across his slanted eyebrow. ‘We warned you not to bring anyone to the surface.’

‘I think it’s pretty clear that this landing wasn’t my choice,’ said Shep, offended.

‘Definitely wasn’t mine,’ Kharth said in a mock-whisper.

‘And still you’ve got the city’s eisillium payload,’ snapped Trellian. ‘That belongs to me.’

‘You’re extorting it in your protection racket,’ Kharth scoffed. ‘Let’s not get self-righteous about it.’

The Romulan man’s lips thinned. ‘Fine,’ he said, and drew his disruptor. ‘Let’s keep it simple, then. You have what I want. Your shuttle is busted, mine’s right above with weapons charged. I’ve got five guns pointed at you. How many do you have?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Shep exchanged a glance with Kharth. ‘A dozen? Did we agree on a dozen?’

And the Starfleet security detail rose from their hiding spots in the higher ground around the Lancelot’s crash site, phaser rifles ready and bearing down on the Romulans now outnumbered two-to-one.

Trellian started. ‘What the -’

‘Yeah, it’s a trap, idiot.’ Shep rolled her eyes. ‘Now, do you want to make this a stupid stand-off where no matter what you get shot and taken in, or do you want to have a more productive conversation about the finer points of property? One of those ends with you facing Federation justice and all its comforts. The other ends with us handing you over to the city council at Navinor and getting a different kind of justice.’

Endeavour’s arrival at Navinor, one of the many sleepy backwaters of the former Romulan Neutral Zone, had been heralded with the boasts and threats of Trellian, his ship, and his crew, asserting the people living here were under his protection and under no circumstances was Starfleet to put boots on the ground. Only by pushing boundaries and playing nice with the city leaders had everyone agreed on Endeavour disembarking two officers by shuttle to the surface, where it had become apparent that Trellian would use the local populace as living shields in his continued exploitation of their meagre wealth. Outnumbered and with too many innocents nearby to risk any gambit that could include collateral damage, luring Trellian out of the city by making off with payment he believed he was due had been deemed the best way to get an even footing.

Making sure Trellian came himself and was too distracted to notice Endeavour beaming officers down to an ambush site a hundred kilometres out of the city, however, had taken Shep’s particular brand of productive provocation.

Shep and Kharth were last to beam back to the ship and on arrival headed directly for the bridge. The viewscreen was live, showing the blue-grey shape of Navinor II rotating gently below, and the three small, last-generation Romulan frigates of Trellian’s band facing off against the mighty Federation explorer.

Rourke rose from the command chair as they arrived. ‘I’ve got a warlord in my brig and some touchy Romulan minions. I’m assuming this worked?’

‘Like a charm,’ said Shep with a toothy grin.

‘If you’re not whatever team Commander T’Varel sends down to pick chunks of the Lancelot’s hull out of the highlands,’ mused Kharth.

At Science, Airex narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You look like you’ve been through a lot.’

‘Just Commander Shepherd’s great piloting, sir,’ Kharth said lightly.

Rourke gave a short laugh that Kharth heard not ring quite true. It was how he’d behaved throughout this past month with Shep’s feats and achievements – turned into the indulgent uncle figure, cheerful and simple and a little bit too blunt for the subtleties of the world. Kharth knew it was how he behaved when he wanted to be underestimated, and she understood what was going on. But it was also annoying.

‘Good work, Commanders,’ he said, turning back to the viewscreen. ‘Let’s see if we can’t send these dogs packing.’

‘They’re already turning tail, sir,’ pointed out Lieutenant Whitaker at Helm. ‘So much for their loyalty.’

‘Not quite,’ said Airex, raising an eyebrow at his display. ‘The Triumph is here.’

Rourke’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly as he took his seat, and on the viewscreen they watched as the Romulan ships indeed swept away, heading for the far side of the system on a longer route out of the sun’s gravity well – but one which would not bring them face-to-face with the Inquiry-class bearing down on Navinor II.

‘Sir, we’re being hailed,’ reported Lieutenant Lindgren crisply from comms. ‘It’s Fleet Captain Jericho.’

Rourke nodded, jaw tight for only half a heartbeat before his expression again shifted for affable bemusement when the viewscreen changed to put the bridge of the Triumph before them. ‘Sir! Not that it’s not a pleasure to see you, but aren’t these rats going to scatter with Triumph coming in so hot?’

Fleet Captain Jericho remained seated in the centre chair, looking supremely unconcerned. ‘Don’t worry about it, Captain. They’ll run right into the Independence, and we’ll follow soon after. Then they get a choice on if they do this the easy way or the hard way.’ He leaned back. ‘Assuming you uprooted their presence on Navinor II.’

‘Commander Shepherd did,’ said Rourke with an airiness that Kharth thought didn’t suit him. ‘With this extortion racket driven off, I thought we could put the city council in touch with the leaders of Nerillian. Expanding the network of mutual protection -’

‘We shouldn’t broker deals with planets out here,’ Jericho said with a quick wave of the hand. ‘We’ve driven off the Rebirth; Navinor can determine their own path now.’

Rourke faltered. ‘We can broker an agreement between local governments here, and make it a lot easier.’

‘We weren’t here to make it easy in the Neutral Zone, Captain, remember?’ Jericho leaned forward. ‘We were here to hunt down the Rebirth. Which I should get to. Wrap up here and rendezvous with the Nighthawk; they’re finishing deployment of the defence posts on the border.’ His gaze flickered to Rourke’s right. ‘Good work, Commander.’

Shep beamed. ‘Thank you, sir!’

‘Triumph out.’

Rourke sat in silence for a moment, scratching his beard as the Triumph pulled away, carrying on her course to eventually jump to warp after the disappearing Romulan ships. Kharth had no doubt that before the day’s end there’d be a tale of a daring confrontation between mighty Starfleet vessels and diabolical Rebirth pirates ending with the bad guys in cells and the good guys congratulating themselves.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she said, her words louder in the quiet of the bridge. ‘All we’ve done now is take out local warlords who were at least invested in milking Navinor for the long-term. With Trellian gone, what if some bigger warlord comes along who’d rather burn it all to the ground and take all the spoils at once?’

Shep turned with that wince in her eyes that she always wore when anyone implied the saintly Lionel Jericho was wrong. ‘What’re we supposed to do? Interfere and dictate what factions grow in this independent space? Make commitments to help and look after them we can’t always keep later?’

‘It’s that last one that’s at play here,’ snapped Kharth. ‘Don’t get saintly about the Prime Directive, the problem is Starfleet not wanting to get too committed to helping Romulans. Again.’

Now Shep tensed, the easy manner shifting for a mask of professionalism to come down. ‘I’m not being saintly, Lieutenant Commander. I’m reminding you of our operational policy out here.’

Kharth ignored her, rounding on Rourke. She didn’t say anything, simply met his gaze, hands on her hips, knowing the eyes of the bridge were on her. Athaka and Whitaker were too new to their posts to do anything that might resemble speaking up against the XO when the CO hadn’t said his piece. Airex likely didn’t dare side with her in case she bit his head off. And Lindgren was more likely to have quiet conversations after the fact than fan the flames here and now. So it was just her and the captain, a man she’d known to be nothing but stubborn in doing the right thing.

But Matt Rourke only shrugged. ‘Commander Shepherd’s right, Kharth. You should get checked out by Sickbay then see if you can squeak anything more out of Trellian.’ His gaze flickered between the two officers. ‘That first part goes for both of you. Dismissed.’

Stiff-backed, Kharth marched into the turbolift, and only felt herself tense more by Shep following. The doors slid shut and the lift hummed to life and, now they were in private, she could feel Shep’s guilty wince.

‘I know this sucks,’ Shep said at length. ‘And I’m sorry. But I promise you, this isn’t about us not wanting to help Romulans. I know you don’t need reminding of policy, I know you don’t need a lecture. I get this is close to home for you, though, and I am sorry.’

Kharth worked her jaw for a moment. Then she shook her head. ‘Policy,’ she echoed. ‘That’s sometimes a great shield to excuse leaving people to suffer, Shep.’

Shep didn’t answer, and Kharth didn’t feel like pushing the point. Just as Rourke hadn’t opposed it, like he hadn’t opposed it for the long weeks of their new assignment, there was no way Shep would do anything but defend the words of the vaunted Fleet Captain Jericho.

I knew Karana Valance, Kharth thought bitterly. You’re no Karana Valance.

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.

With Cortez gone, even with Valance gone, Kharth had nobody to complain to she trusted to listen or sit still long enough, so she ambushed Airex at breakfast in the Safe House, pulling up the chair opposite his with a curt, ‘I’m joining you.’

He looked up from stirring his tea and blinked. ‘I can see that.’

‘The universe is turning upside-down. Did you meet the new Strat Ops?’

Airex hesitated, eyes flickering about the lounge. At this time there was enough traffic, officers filtering in and out ahead of their shifts, for conversations to go unnoticed. Or perhaps he was scoping out an escape route. Gentle piano music filled the room, giving the dark, wood-panelled walls a sense of closeness, making the room feel more lived-in than the cold stars streaming outside the windows would normally permit.

‘I did,’ he said at last neutrally, but Kharth didn’t say anything, waiting expectantly. He sighed. ‘Commander Harrian seems perfectly pleasant. He was a science officer, did you know? We discussed some of the ongoing anthropological studies that have started in the refugee shelters -’

‘Shelters that need supplies and equipment, not scientists,’ Kharth cut in.

‘Shelters who need appropriately-researched interventions,’ Airex said. He sounded, she thought, more gentle in his correction than he had in recent years. Perhaps he hadn’t changed so much since Joining, she reflected; perhaps all he’d been doing was trying to drive her, drive anyone away.

That only irritated her more, so she slammed her coffee down and reached for the sugar. ‘He hates Rourke. They were on the Firebrand together. I think they were friends. Now he blames him for everyone dying there.’

Airex frowned. ‘Oh.’ He sounded like he knew that was a problem, but not what he was supposed to do about it.

‘Why’s he here?’

‘I assume on the word of Starfleet Command.’

‘You mean on the word of Jericho.’ Gesticulating, Kharth poured more sugar than she meant into her mug. ‘He’s picked up someone from the captain’s past and sent him to spy on us.’

‘You mean another spy,’ Airex said drily. ‘If Commander Shepherd’s a spy.’

‘Shep’s just the XO. Harrian speaks with Jericho’s voice.’

‘He’s just an adviser, he can’t overrule Rourke.’

‘No, but he can report directly to Jericho and get him to. Which has to be what Jericho wants, someone reporting on Rourke’s every turn. Shep wouldn’t be able to do her job if she was constantly undermining the captain, but Harrian can do that fine. I mean, why else would Jericho find someone who hates Rourke and put him aboard?’

Airex watched her for a moment, then pushed his plate of half-finished pastries away. ‘Is this about the other day?’

‘You’re going to have to be far more specific.’

‘I mean Navinor. I don’t like it either. I’ve been wondering what we can do about it.’

‘We can’t do anything. That was down to Rourke. He’s normally like a targ on a rampage if someone gets in his way of doing what he thinks is the right thing, but you saw him on the bridge. He rolled over like a dog you’ve beaten too many times.’ Kharth leaned forward. ‘We have to get other people on-side.’

Airex frowned. ‘What do you mean, on-side?’

‘Once, I would have known where everyone in the senior staff stood. Now we’ve only got you, me, Sadek, Lindgren, and Carraway from before. T’Varel, Whitaker, that new Ops manager who shipped in the other day – what do they think?’

‘Whitaker isn’t new,’ Airex pointed out.

‘He’s gone from fly-boy squadron leader to helmsman. He’s expected to have opinions now, and he’s probably not grown them. But he’s definitely had no reason to be loyal to Rourke in particular. We need to know the lay of the land.’ Kharth frowned at nothing in particular, then her stomach rumbled. With a grimace, she started to dig into her muesli. ‘We’ve lost the big hitters who would side with the captain.’ That wasn’t true of Arys, but Valance, Cortez, and even Thawn were all people she could count on. Left were the more peripheral staffers, the younger staffers, Airex who had been off the ship for over a year, and her.

He sighed. ‘If we do find that a majority of the staff support Rourke, what do we even do?’

‘Nothing.’ Kharth swallowed a mouthful of muesli quickly. ‘But it means that when it’s time to stand up, we know who’s where. So. Will you do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Take the temperature of people. We have to be discreet.’

Airex rubbed his temples. ‘Ask them if they’re prepared to, what, stage an uprising on the bridge if Captain Jericho gives an order and we think Captain Rourke would disobey if only he had his bridge crew together?’

Her fork came down with a clatter. ‘I need to know who I can count on.’ Her words came with more vulnerability than she intended, and Kharth’s jaw tightened as she realised what she was saying. This wasn’t just about knowing who was with her if someone had to stand up to Jericho. She needed to know what sort of people she was surrounding herself with.

Worse, Airex wore a look of horrid understanding. A part of her missed the days he was so desperate to drive her off he didn’t ever show what he was thinking. He gave a small, sympathetic nod. ‘I’ll do the rounds.’

‘I make a habit,’ said Doctor Sadek, rather flatly, ‘of staying out of politics. Even if I think Matt’s making boneheaded decisions.’

Kharth stepped back as an orderly rushed through sickbay, but despite Sadek’s aura of wanting to be left alone to work, returned to the doctor’s side. ‘So you think he’s being boneheaded?’

‘I always think the captain’s being boneheaded. That’s the privilege of being the CMO and best friend. I get to judge him without getting my hands dirty.’ Sadek picked up and checked over a tricorder. ‘You should try it. The “not getting your hands dirty” part, I mean. Leave the judgement.’

‘When my people are being left to die, I tend to judge.’

The corners of Sadek’s eyes creased. ‘The people of Navinor endured the past fifteen years without Starfleet’s help. Give them a little more credit than that.’

‘I don’t -’

‘And what about the people we’re going to help inside the Federation border once we get back? We wouldn’t be helping them if we were helping Navinor. Take it from a doctor: you can’t save everyone.’

‘But who do you prioritise,’ Kharth pressed. ‘The person who bumped their head, or the person bleeding profusely?’

‘I’d say you staunch the bleeding, but you keep an eye on the head bump. It can be a concussion.’ Sadek sobered. ‘Remember that we’re talking worlds where the Mo’Kai are trying to stir up local discontent. We’re not here to judge a “prettiest garden” contest. I understand where you’re coming from, Kharth, but you’re doing a terrible job of acknowledging your own bias.’

That was the point Kharth realised she wasn’t going to make headway; the steadfastly sickbay-focused doctor would stick to her territory, or at least not admit more than the usual level of disagreement with her old friend. But other conversations elsewhere didn’t necessarily go better.

‘I have no opinion on the captain’s decision at Navinor,’ Chief Engineer T’Varel said when cornered in the Round Table that evening. ‘Other than that I see no logic in disobeying Fleet Captain Jericho.’

Five seconds into a conversation with a Vulcan and they mention logic. Do I win a prize? Kharth nevertheless slid, uninvited, onto the bar stool next to her. ‘Do you see the logic in leaving a job half-done?’

‘Our task was to apprehend the Romulan Rebirth leader tormenting the planet. That task was completed.’ T’Varel tilted her head the optimal number of degrees to look annoyingly condescending. ‘Assuming you were successful.’

‘I – he’s in our brig, T’Varel,’ Kharth pointed out with exasperation.

‘Then I do not see why you are dissatisfied with your own mission.’

‘I’m not dissatisfied! I think there should have been more mission.’

‘As I understand it, you made that stance abundantly clear. So abundant, in fact, that engineers who were not even there talked about it and I now have a full understanding of an incident at which I was not even present. Which is why I am entirely unaware of the purpose of this discussion. Is this related to the effective operation of this starship’s systems?’

‘No, but -’

‘Then it lies entirely outside of my purview as Chief Engineer.’ T’Varel pointedly picked up a PADD. ‘Good day, Commander.’

Even by Vulcan standards, Kharth thought, that was caustic. But she was clearly not getting anywhere and reluctantly left T’Varel to it, wondering if Airex was having better luck.

‘Have you been holding out on me all this time?’ Carraway’s brow furrowed as he looked up from the Go board. ‘Or did getting in touch with your inner self make you better at abstract strategy?’

‘I was trying to keep you compliant,’ Airex said effortlessly as he reached for a stone. ‘I thought if I came across as too work-oriented for too many games, you wouldn’t use these for unofficial counselling sessions. But if I avoided you too much, you’d press the point.’ He also raised his gaze. ‘So I pretended to be the reluctant Go player.’

The observation lounge on Deck 5 was much quieter than either the Round Table or the Safe House, and made a good spot for a quiet board game. It also made a good spot for a quiet conversation, the two of them sat on low benches before a wide table beneath a large oval viewport filled with stars. However, some niceties needed to be observed before cutting to the chase.

‘Huh,’ said Carraway gently. ‘So, really, both are true. You know, I would have just thought you were a guy who liked Go if you played more and beat me more. Not everyone was out to rip apart your secrets.’

Airex hesitated. ‘I… recognise that I was maybe paranoid.’

‘You were with us for years before Kharth ever showed up. You didn’t need to lie to us.’ As always, Carraway managed to sound gentle rather than chiding, even as he was telling someone they’d behaved poorly.

‘I was always lying by omission. I think you can imagine what that does to someone.’ But that wasn’t the purpose of this conversation. Airex shook his head. ‘Now I’m back, I’d like to do things better.’

‘Like kicking my ass at Go?’

‘Like spending time with people properly. And like… engaging more.’

Carraway reached for his tea. ‘Okay. So, knowing now that the way you were behaving before was a mask, I gotta say – you’re doing it again right now.’

‘What?’

‘There’s something you want to talk about, but you’re trying to sidle up to it. It’s okay, you can just speak.’

‘Oh, no.’ Airex raised a hand. ‘This isn’t me trying to ask you for help. Not like that, I mean.’

‘It can be whatever you need it to be. I get that it must be hard, coming back only for Valance to leave. And Kharth’s still here, and that’s gotta be real hard for you both. I’m glad you seem to be talking more.’

‘We are, but that’s not the point.’

‘Then what is the point? Do you two even really know where you are? Or are you still in limbo?’ Carraway gave a sad, soft smile. ‘The both of you are really due an honest conversation. But I get it, you need to figure out where you are separately first. I know you’ll never take me up on it, but I actually can help with that.’

‘She’ll never go for it,’ Airex pointed out quickly.

‘Maybe not, but I can still help you. Help you sift through where your feelings are, your guilt is. Because I know you’ve still got guilt, Dav -’

‘We think Captain Rourke’s too beaten by Captain Jericho to stand up and do the right thing,’ Airex blurted, because cutting to the chase was better than discussing his feelings. ‘And we’re worried.’

Carraway stopped at that. Then he said, ‘I’m worried, too.’

‘You are?’

‘Captain Rourke lost a lot lately. Including Commander Valance. But then, so did you.’ Carraway tilted his head. ‘She asked you to look after everyone, didn’t she.’

Airex’s throat tightened. This was why he hadn’t played too much Go with Carraway over the years. ‘Yes.’

‘You can’t be her. She wouldn’t want you to be her. She had a relationship with the captain that you don’t. But you two still have a relationship. I know something went down with you around Teros.’ Carraway winced. ‘You’re right to worry. But I think the way forward is still to reach out. Trust your relationships, your path forward. It’s stronger than you think.’

Airex scowled after a moment. ‘Do you think we should be helping the Romulan people more?’

‘I think that there’s so much guilt about the Romulan people that nobody’s thinking straight. Either way,’ Carraway sighed. ‘But yeah. I’d like to help them. I’d like to help everyone. I don’t know what’s possible and what’s not.’

It would have to do, Airex thought, and looked back at the board. ‘I resign.’

‘What, you -’ Carraway raised an indignant hand. ‘Come on!’

‘I’m not lying any more,’ Airex pointed out as he stood. ‘I could have beaten you.’

‘Then beat me!’ Carraway called at his disappearing back.

Lindgren’s gaze flickered across the bridge at Kharth’s question. ‘I think it’s important we support the captain,’ she said, quietly but sincerely. ‘Is this some sort of loyalty test?’

‘Not “some sort,”’ said Kharth. ‘Just a regular loyalty test.’

The response was a frustrated sigh. ‘I think what the captain needs right now, Commander, is to know people are behind him so he can make the right decisions. Not for us to be all hissing secretively in corners. That’ll make things worse.’

‘Who’s hissing secretively in corners?’ Predictably, trying to grab a quiet word at Lindgren’s bridge station had drawn attention, this time in the shape of Lieutenant Whitaker swaggering over from the turbolift on his way to his post. ‘Oh, are we scheming?’

Kharth glared at the control panel behind Lindgren. ‘It’s impolite to eavesdrop, Lieutenant.’

‘That sounds doubly scheme-y. I love a good scheme. Is it a surprise birthday party?’ Whitaker leaned against Lindgren’s console with all the dignity of an insolent house cat.

Lindgren pursed her lips. ‘Whose birthday is it next?’

‘You keep track of that?’ Kharth gave her a dubious look.

‘People get suspicious when Greg looks like he’s planning parties. So I do it,’ she explained, then sighed and shook her head. ‘It would have been Commander Cortez’s on the eighteenth.’

‘Okay, this isn’t what I came here to discuss…’

‘Who’s next with Cortez gone? Senior staff, I mean?’ chirped Whitaker.

‘You’ll have to do the planning on that one.’ Lindgren gave a wry smile. ‘As I think it’s mine.’

‘You say that, you don’t know anyone new’s birthday,’ he pointed out. ‘I could be up next.’

‘Are you?’ Kharth asked impatiently.

‘Well. No. And planning a birthday for the likes of Commander T’Varel sounds like a frightful waste of time.’ Whitaker pushed off to stand straight, his lanky figure looming over both women as he turned to the front of the bridge. ‘Far!’

Newly-arrived Operations Chief Lieutenant Commander Kol Por Teren Ilka Far turned from her station like she’d been caught out at something. ‘Yes?’

‘When’s your birthday?’

Kharth pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Give me the Thousand Days of Pain.’

‘You were trying to politic on the bridge,’ Lindgren pointed out with a small smirk.

‘Oh!’ Far hopped up like this was a conversation she was expected to join. She was quite tall but slender, with the blue markings across her face of the Xahean people and bright, intense eyes. When she was animated, which happened very often, she spoke rather quickly. ‘Not til late in the year – are we talking birthdays?’

‘It’s Lieutenant Lindgren’s next,’ Whitaker said, like he’d wheedled this information out instead of outright asking.

Trying to wrestle control back into this situation, Kharth turned to Far. She was ostensibly the officer on watch, after all. ‘Commander. Did you finish that diagnostic?’

‘I did – I didn’t realise you wanted a full report.’ But Far only brightened, whipping out a PADD. ‘I’m right; if Commander Airex wants extra computational power to analyse those findings on long-range sensors, we can get by with rolling shutdown of some of the non-essential communication systems. If I get everyone who wants to send out a comm in the window to notify me, I can assign time-slots so nobody has to miss out. Or, uh, Lieutenant Lindgren can. But that depends on the complexity of the gravimetric readings; if Commander Airex wants to reconstruct a full mathematical model, then we might have to ask Commander T’Varel to delay some of the warp field tests -’

‘You know what,’ Kharth said brusquely, ‘how about you bring that to Commander Shepherd. That sounds like her problem.’

‘Sure! Does that mean we get back to birthday planning?’

Kharth’s nostrils flared. ‘It means everyone should get back to their posts.’

Whitaker held up his hands and both he and Far retreated to their stations at the fore of the bridge. As they went, Kharth heard the new Ops officer mumble a question to Whitaker that definitely included the word ‘grumpy.’ With a sigh, she turned back to Lindgren, who simply shrugged.

‘To them, we’re just another crew, and the captain’s just another captain. You shouldn’t be drawing them into things,’ Lindgren said.

Kharth gave her a baleful look. ‘I miss the days you were a less-uppity ensign.’

‘I was still right when I was an ensign. You just listened to me less.’

Before Kharth could defend herself, the doors to the captain’s ready room slid open and Rourke stalked out, straight-backed. ‘To your stations,’ he said in a gruff, clipped voice. ‘We’re changing heading.’

Whitaker looked back. ‘Sir? We’re only hours from the border.’

‘We can still turn, though, can’t we?’ Rourke’s eyebrows raised accusingly. ‘I’ve just had word from Commander Kosst. We’re moving to join the Nighthawk.’

Kharth hadn’t yet left Lindgren’s station, and the two women locked eyes. Wordlessly, Lindgren gestured to her screen showing incoming external communications. Rourke had been talking with both Kosst and Jericho.

‘Can do,’ Whitaker said in an airy voice, despite Rourke’s terseness. ‘We’re six hours out.’

‘At cruising speed?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Rourke shook his head. ‘Step it up. Warp 9.’

Kharth finally moved to the central arch to assume her post at Tactical. ‘Is there an emergency, Captain?’

‘No,’ Rourke said, again shaking his head. But as he settled into his chair, she thought she heard him murmur, ‘We just better get there first.’

‘…and he cared more about getting some old friend off the hook than I’ve seen him care about anything to do with the people living in this sector!’ Kharth knew she was in danger of wearing a hole in Endeavour’s deck as she stalked back and forth in her office, but the idea of calming down was intolerable.

Airex pursed his lips as he sat and watched her. She knew he was considering what he could say that might staunch her anger, and knew they both knew no such words existed. At length, he drew an uncertain breath. ‘Maybe we talk to him.’

‘Maybe.’ But she cast him a suspicious look. ‘I didn’t think you were his favourite person.’

‘Things change.’ His expression creased. ‘I’m sorry, but I really can’t explain the reasoning on that one. Truly. Starfleet regulations.’

Teros. But however much she believed him, a part of her balled up inside at the prospect of him keeping secrets, writhed away like singed paper curling from flame. He owed her nothing right now, they were nothing right now, but the idea of trusting him, of taking a leap of faith when she knew he was hiding something he’d never reveal, didn’t just pain her. It exhausted her.

Exhaustion was never a good sign when it came to trust. ‘You only came here to talk about sharing power allocations on the sensor array.’

Airex hesitated, then nodded. ‘Commander Far said we’d do better if we came to an agreement.’

‘Do you ever miss Thawn being a harsh taskmistress and making the decision anyway, and to hell with our feelings?’

‘I think Thawn’s an enormous loss to this ship, but Far’s very good. Perhaps we can have an Operations Manager we don’t resent half the time.’

‘I’ll resent her,’ Kharth grumbled. ‘Just for being so damn chirpy.’ But they’d gotten off her anger and down to business, and she didn’t know how much she could keep venting at him. Work kept them in her office for another half-hour, and by the time he left, there was a blinking light on her desk console with an incoming message.

It was from Sadek. My quarters. 2000 hours. Poker.

They had not had a staff poker game since Connor Drake’s death. But many of the other players were gone, too – Logan, Cortez. The doctor would have to pad out the numbers, and with a sigh, Kharth considered who else might be involved. Reluctantly, she concluded that Sadek was probably going to drag in the newer staff members and make them feel like they belonged. Maybe even Shepherd.

Even though they were friends, Kharth was not in much of a mood to be friendly with Shepherd, not right then. So she dragged out the last hours of work, procrastinated on the invitation, and didn’t make it to Sadek’s quarters until 2015.

The doctor still smiled when she opened the door. ‘I was wondering if you’d grace us with your presence,’ she drawled. ‘Come on in.’

‘So who’ve we got?’ Kharth grumbled, stepping in. ‘Just Elsa, or did you drag Whitaker and Far in -’

‘No,’ boomed the voice of Matt Rourke, sat at the head of the extendable table Sadek had opened in the middle of her quarters for him and her other four guests. ‘No, it’s a different crowd tonight.’

Kharth stopped as the doors slid shut behind her, and stared at the gathering. Eli Gault, Rusander Brennos, John Rosewood, and Harrian Cal looked back. In the silence, Sadek slid next to her and theatre-whispered, ‘I’ll get you a drink.’

Rourke extended a hand to the seventh seat at the table. ‘You should sit down, Saeihr.’

Kharth narrowed her eyes as she approached and pulled up a seat. ‘You never call me that. And this isn’t a poker game.’

Eli Gault, in a Starfleet uniform, red-shouldered with a senior chief petty officer’s insignia, gave a short bark of laughter. ‘I see why she’s your security chief, Matty.’

But Rourke shot him a sharp glance, and the Risian fell silent. Rourke sighed and looked back at her. ‘You’re only a little wrong, because I’ve definitely been playing a game of poker. Only it’s ended up being against you as well. Which weren’t my intention.’

She planted her hands on the table as Sadek thoughtfully placed a bottle of beer beside her and withdrew to the final seat. ‘Explain,’ said Kharth. ‘Now. Why you’ve got this renegade Ranger in here, Kosst’s XO, and the Strat Ops guy who’s been sent to overrule you at every point.’

‘I apologise for that ruse.’ Harrian Cal’s voice was low, smooth, and sincere as he leaned forward. ‘It was necessary for everyone, especially Commander Shepherd, to think there’s bad blood between me and Captain Rourke.’

Kharth scowled at him. ‘You don’t blame him for the deaths on the Firebrand.’

Harrian sighed as Rourke shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’d narrowly escaped being captured with them myself and was in Sickbay with my wounds when… it happened. I was angry with the captain for a while, and my report to the official inquiry supports that.’ They exchanged stiff glances, and Harrian drew a deep breath. ‘I was wrong. It took me years of prayer and reflection to realise this. But I was looking for someone to blame.’

‘That,’ said Kharth after a moment, ‘doesn’t answer anything.’ Her eyes landed on Rourke. ‘Explain all of this, explain why you’ve been rolling over when it comes to the Romulan people of the Neutral Zone, letting Jericho treat them as a potential threat -’

He didn’t stop her but lifted a pleading hand. She had loyalty enough to give him that chance and fell quiet. ‘Jericho was moved in over my head. Any influence I had to stop that died when Dathan proved herself a traitor. My name’s not as much as it was. Admiral Beckett’s name’s not as much as it was, at least for a while, and he told me so when I asked for help. He said I was going to have to help myself. Help myself, while Jericho removed those closest to me, undermined my network of allies and support. Even forced me to remove Valance from play when I could have kept her close, kept her as an asset on the Nighthawk… but I couldn’t do that to her.’ Rourke sighed and shook his head. ‘But then I remembered that I don’t need Beckett to get allies. So that’s what I’ve been doing – keeping my head down with Jericho while I get the right people in the right places.’

Kharth cocked her head. ‘You let him think that Harrian’s an enemy of yours so he’d assign him to hold your leash.’

‘It’s worked,’ mused Harrian. ‘Matt contacted me weeks ago and I put in for the assignment. When Jericho asked about my history with anyone in the squadron, I directed him to the transcripts of the inquiry. They spoke for themselves, or so he thought.’

‘Rus here,’ Rourke continued, gesturing to Brennos, ‘cut his teeth on my security team in the 80s. After I denied Commander Kosst an XO in Valance, I made sure his record came across her desk. So that gives me eyes on the Nighthawk.’

‘I’m not here to be duplicitous with Commander Kosst,’ Brennos said sternly. ‘I think she’s a good woman and a good officer. But I can keep an eye out, and especially keep an eye out for Jericho’s influence aboard.’

‘And I,’ drawled John Rosewood, a glass of white wine in hand that looked like it had been poured from the same bottle from which Sadek drank, ‘already hate Jericho. So I’m happy to undermine his pet Vornar from aboard the Independence.’

Kharth turned sharply to Gault. ‘Then what the hell is up with you? Because we’ve been out here a year and the captain never mentioned having an undercover Starfleet officer as a contact.’

‘Because that,’ said Gault with a beam, ‘was a lie.’

Kharth shot daggers at Rourke, who raised his hands again. ‘I have been in contact with Gault over the year, that much is very true,’ he said quickly. ‘I didn’t want to risk exposing him and there’s been no need to push it, so yeah, I compartmentalised information because this was off the books.’

‘And lied to Jericho. And Hawthorne. Why did Hawthorne buy it?’

‘Because Gabriel Hawthorne and I,’ interjected Harrian, ‘go way back to the Academy. With Brennos.’ The stern XO of the Nighthawk nodded.

Kharth sucked her teeth. ‘Brennos, who, I assume, warned us about the Nighthawk grabbing Gault in the first place.’

‘Correct,’ the Barzan admitted.

Rourke leaned forwards, hands on the table. ‘I worried what would happen to Eli if he ended up in the Triumph’s brig. So yes, I fudged the rules.’

‘Broke the rules,’ Harrian interjected. ‘However just the reasons.’

‘If we’re to be out here, actually helping people, then I want someone like Eli with us as a guide, not caught up in the courts on charges for crimes he didn’t commit,’ Rourke said hotly.

‘So now I,’ drawled Gault to Kharth, ‘get to be his new yeoman.’

Kharth worked her jaw. ‘This sounds like a lovely way for you to put together old friends,’ she said slowly to Rourke, ‘and to protect old friends. But what about Navinor? What about every other time you’ve capitulated to Jericho?’

‘I asked Harrian to make a stop-off on his way here,’ Rourke said. ‘At Nerillian. To encourage them to open discussions of a mutual defence pact with Navinor. But I’ve needed to keep a low profile while I get everything in order – the right people around me aboard, the right people on other ships, even the right people close to Jericho. He’s not the only person who can rig the game. I’ve been in the fleet a while, and I have friends and contacts, too.’

Kharth pursed her lips, sweeping her gaze around the gathered. ‘What about the Triumph?’

Rourke sighed. ‘I haven’t had the chance to approach Hale or Cortez. I don’t want to show my hand and Jericho keeps a tight control of his ship. Maybe that’s what comes next. But now, most importantly, Jericho thinks he has someone watching my every move with Harrian. He thinks he has control over the Nighthawk and the Independence, but I have both their first officers. And I have, working with me every day, someone who’s been operating in this region of space for over a decade and knows every unofficial way of doing things.’

‘Even if,’ muttered Gault, ‘the Fenris Rangers have been pretty squirrelly lately.’

‘I didn’t approach you, Saeihr, because I honestly didn’t realise I had to. And I’m sorry that I damaged your faith in me.’ Rourke sighed. ‘So consider this the official invitation to the team behind the team. The secret resistance to the hawkish bullshit of Lionel Jericho, and the team to make Starfleet do good out here.’

Kharth shifted her weight, and had a swig of beer so she wouldn’t say something curt. Then she said it anyway. ‘I feel like I should be inviting you to the team, the way you’ve been acting.’

Sadek snickered as she sipped her wine. ‘She’s got you there, Matt.’

Rourke looked a little taken aback, but she could see the guilt hovering around him and waved a hand. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Whatever. Let’s do the right thing and be mad at each other later.’

‘Good,’ he said, and brightened. ‘Good. First thing’s first, then. I want someone to talk to Elsa. I don’t yet know Far or Whitaker well enough, and Carraway is best being out of this so he can help everyone. I want to know your opinion on Airex. On if he can be trusted.’

I thought you were the one who had secret trust with Airex, came the treacherous thought, but Kharth smothered it with a swig of beer. She’d thought she’d need it to think about her answer, too, but found it the moment she’d swallowed down beer and bitterness. ‘Yes. Absolutely.’

Rourke’s smile was gentle. ‘Good,’ he said again. ‘That keeps things on Endeavour under control. Brennos will continue to monitor the Nighthawk, and hopefully we can bring Kosst in. Rosewood will keep an eye on the Independence, but Vornar used to be Jericho’s XO, there’s no way we can trust him. I’ll try to talk to Cortez or Hale when we’re at SB23.’

‘There’s just one more problem,’ said Harrian, then paused and shook his head. ‘No, I refuse to think of people as problems. There’s just one more question, if you’re talking about keeping things on Endeavour under control.’

‘Oh?’ Rourke raised his eyebrows.

Harrian leaned forward, lips pursed thoughtfully. ‘What about Shepherd?’