It didn’t take long, in her first dinner with Tycho, for The Question to come up. They were halfway through eating, at least, and rather than standing on ceremony, he’d served up burgers and beers at a table in the Tempest’s officers’ lounge, where they could sit at the far end of the long chamber by tall windows and be left undisturbed by the rest of the crew.

‘So why’d you join Starfleet?’

Valance nearly swallowed quickly, then realised she could buy herself a hint of time. She chewed ponderously. ‘It was a way out,’ she said at last. ‘After life on a colony world or in the Klingon Empire, and not fitting in with either. I hoped to find something of my own.’ Rather than let him interrogate how successful she’d been, she added, ‘You?’

‘It’s a family affair,’ he said, but didn’t elaborate any further. Before she could press the point, he’d dabbed his lips with a napkin to wipe away errant sauce and added, ‘Dare say it’s worked out for you. I don’t know what I expected from your reputation, but you’re not disappointing.’

‘My reputation?’

‘Yeah.’ Tycho waved a vague hand and picked up a fry from his bowl as he finished. ‘The promising officer with the zig-zagging career. Fast rising, then fell out of favour. Then fell back into favour but spent a couple years screwing around as first officer before getting your own command. But your command’s a big one. So I figured you were scatterbrained and lucky, or intense and deliberate. I’m going with the latter.’

‘Scatterbrained.’ Nobody had ever suggested she might be that. She took a bite of her burger to contemplate it, before saying, ‘I’m still not sure how your reputation lines up.’

‘And what’s my reputation?’

‘Always out of favour with the right people. Always on the fringe. Always getting a job done. Not too uncommon for officers who were fast risers after Mars.’

Tycho raised a quick finger. ‘I’ll stop you there. I’m not one of those explorers who cried when we fixed the border after Mars. It was the right thing to do.’

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘You still spent your time on the fringes.’

‘Yeah, because that’s where trouble was coming from. Does come from. We’re seeing it right now with the Klingon Empire – they aren’t coming for us direct. They’re trying to pull us into a proxy war with the Republic, or at best they’re going to gobble up territory on our front lawn while we twiddle our thumbs.’ Tycho had a swig of beer and shook his head. ‘Nah. I’m not the old school type longing for golden years. Walk softly and carry a big stick, that’s my style.’

Valance wasn’t sure what to say to that; her long years of service had often put her in conflict with such officers. Tycho either noticed discomfort or didn’t want to talk about it himself, changing the subject, and the evening moved on.

Back in her shared suite that evening, Valance found Rivera sat in the comfortable seating in the communal area, reading from a PADD.

‘You’re not prowling for a story?’

‘Oh, I’m prowling. I’ve prowled.’ Rivera twirled her stylus in her fingers. ‘I’ve got to put it all together. Your feature piece is with the editor. I need something new to get my teeth stuck into out here.’

Valance regarded her, hesitating. There was an accord between captains, rules you didn’t break. But this would, at worst, bend them. ‘Tycho,’ she said at last. ‘What do you know about him?’

Rivera was silent for a moment, but her eyes swept across nothingness in contemplation. ‘Not much. He doesn’t play the politics game. Seems to be in the results-based business. Why?’ She rested her chin on her elbow. ‘You think I should make him my next topic?’

‘I’m going out to a volatile frontier under his command, and I like to know who he is.’ But Valance shook her head. ‘Never mind. I can figure it out for myself.’

‘I’m teasing, Valance. I can do some digging, especially if there’s something you’re worried about.’ At Valance’s hesitation, Rivera offered a small smile. ‘Off the books. Totally unofficial.’

Valance narrowed her eyes. ‘Why are you doing me a favour?’

‘Well, you asked for one, for starters. Don’t ask, don’t get. Also, you kind of saved my life. Also, it’s useful to cultivate contacts.’ Rivera shrugged. ‘Plus, you’re having a hard time and I like you and it doesn’t cost me anything? Sometimes people do things just to be nice.’

‘Journalists?’ Valance shook her head. ‘Thanks. But forget it. I’ll figure Tycho out on my own.’

The natives of Rho Detara, despite being taller and more physically powerful than humans, looked too small for the great chambers of state in their capital. They weren’t theirs, after all; the Elkari had been colonised by the Star Empire centuries ago and only in the last year tasted freedom. Not knowing much different, they had set up with their own senate, their own praetor, wearing the structures of Romulan government like a child wore hand-me-downs that didn’t, couldn’t fit.

‘We understand the opportunities of this aperture, Captains,’ said the Elkari praetor, stood atop the dais like he was the local governor of old surveying those insignificant next to the might of the Star Empire. And yet they had been greeted with warmth and reassurance, welcomed like they belonged, before coming into this staid and foreboding council chamber. ‘We simply want to know Starfleet’s place in this all.’

Valance stepped forward first, hands open and extended. There was precious little in their briefing documents about the Elkari people, so all she had was the basics of first contact and early diplomacy. Mirror body language when she was getting somewhere, and otherwise pick it up as she went along. ‘Obviously, we can extend assistance with the Underspace: with securing it, with studying it, with Rho Detara using it to gather further resources and establish economic footholds across the galaxy.’

‘You have done a lot for us so far. But this aid cannot be for free.’

‘It won’t be. Yes, Starfleet wants access to the aperture, to Underspace. But it’s your territory. We’re not looking to take this off you. We want to help you secure it, and in exchange, we’d want you to look favourably when it comes to trade and access agreements.’ Valance shrugged. ‘No promises up front. No expectations. Let’s fix this now, together. And then it’s yours, and you can decide what to do with it.’

The praetor paused, then, not for the first time, turned back to huddle and confer with his compatriots. The Elkari looked to Valance much more community-minded than this system of government expected of them, much more inclined to build by consensus. They would have to figure out what worked best for them, however.

At length, the praetor turned back. ‘There is always an expectation. We have only lately established our own freedom. We would not chain ourselves to you.’

‘You don’t have to chain yourselves,’ said Tycho, butting in before Valance. ‘It’s just good to have friends, isn’t it? Because there are people out there who won’t ask, and they’re called the Klingon Empire.’ At her sharp look, he shrugged, eyes not leaving the praetor. ‘That’s not a threat, it’s a fact, and you know it. You shouldn’t worry we’ll take over, you should worry we’ll leave. So you can stop that. Accept our help, and then people way more important than either of us will smell there’s a foothold here, on Rho Detara, for us to keep on accessing Underspace. Our bosses will have to come to the table and meet you – and we’ll have to keep you safe. We don’t want to dictate your way of life. We want the tunnels, and we want you to be strong enough to watch the gate.’

Valance watched the praetor, watched his sloping brow furrow. For a moment, she thought he might confer again with his compatriots – but then he nodded. ‘We agree to your initial terms,’ he said at last. ‘Securing the aperture. Local patrols.’

It ended there, and Valance knew better than to push when they had made progress. So she kept her mouth shut as they shook hands and exchanged niceties, letting Tycho and his knife-edge smile do most of the work, and didn’t talk until they left for the crumbling foyer of the senate chambers and were beamed back into the transporter room of the Tempest.

But Tycho clapped his hands together with satisfaction the moment they materialised. ‘Woah! That went well. We’re a great team, Valance.’ He clapped her on the shoulder.

She frowned. ‘You were letting me play “good cop?”’

‘Sort of, but better.’ He waved for her to follow as he hopped off the pad and headed for a turbolift. ‘You’re the best good cop I’ve ever worked with, because you’re not warm and fuzzy. I’ve seen too many people doubt that from Starfleet: they’ve seen the sunshine and kittens routine come to nothing because some pencil-pusher decided it was impractical. But you! You’re cool and calm and collected, and you explain why it’s logical and sensible to trust us. Puts people at ease. Stops them think they’re being bullshitted.’

She waited until they’d stepped onto the lift before saying, ‘While you smile as you point out that there are worse people than us out there?’

‘Hey, it stops them from feeling threatened.’ He had the grace to look bashful at that. ‘I’m being harsh, I know. But I’m also right: about both how the Klingons will come for them, and how they have to make it worthwhile for us to save them. Because a lot of people are gonna need saving. They need a reason to be special. Lucky for them, they have it; Underspace.’

The lift stopped not at the bridge, but at the side corridor on Deck 1 letting them enter his ready room directly. Tycho swaggered in, at once reaching to the PADD on the desk to switch off the display screen on the wall.

‘Coffee? Tea? I’m feeling a bit wired, I guess; nothing like a great negotiation to make you feel on top of the world.’

Valance stopped in the middle of the office and stared at the dead screen. ‘What was that?’ He gave her a look, guileless, but his lack of an immediate response made her gut tense. ‘That looked like plans for fortifying the aperture. With Starfleet equipment.’

Tycho stopped. Opened his mouth. Then shut it again. Then said, ‘Because it is.’

‘The agreement with Rho Detara is we help them deploy fortifications.’ The remains of old Star Empire military hardware would be enough, if the locals were given the understanding to harness it and maintain it. That was no mean feat, but it was, at least, easier than Starfleet setting up and manning their own outpost.

‘That’s an agreement we’ve not seen through to the end.’ Tycho rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s just plans.’

‘Plans that you’ve been cooking up and running surveys for to scope out the territory. To scope out how wide a security net you’d need if Starfleet… took over the aperture.’

‘We’d need.’ He straightened. ‘This isn’t my plan. This is Captain Faust’s plan. I’m just providing her with the intel she needs for it.’

‘Captain Faust.’ Valance set her hands on her hips. ‘Does Commodore Rourke know about this?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Tycho, blinking. ‘Seeing as he’s shot off to find Endeavour and scope out prospecting options that’ll hopefully make Rho Detara want to commit. But what if they don’t? What if they can’t?’

‘The territory of this aperture may be contested, but it’s definitely not the Federation’s,’ Valance pointed out. ‘We don’t get to move in because we don’t like how the locals are managing their back yard. The Prime Directive -’

‘Is a bit more woolly when it comes to decolonising initiatives and the risk of the Klingon Empire using this aperture to establish a foothold in the sector.’ Tycho shook his head. ‘Don’t be naive, Valance.’

‘I understand full well what the Empire might do, which is why we have to show the people here why they need us -’

‘I mean, don’t pretend this is just what the bad Starfleet do.’ His brow furrowed, concerned as much as frustrated. ‘That this is what Faust does. You think she and Rourke didn’t talk about this? We’d have been in the conversations if we’d not been beyond comms range, I’m sure about that. This might be the fallback point if all other options fail, but we can’t ignore the worst case scenario. We can’t gun for the sunshine choice and pray. C’mon, you know better than that.’

It would be a calamity beyond measure if the Klingon Empire found a route through to this aperture and established a beachhead. Valance set her hands on her hips and looked down. At length, she said, ‘We don’t have to use the stick here.’

‘It’s real -’

She raised a sharp hand. ‘The Elkari like the idea of having the aperture as a bargaining chip. As something that gives them a seat at the table. We need to start pushing the angle on cooperation with Rencaris. With the Republic.’ Valance hesitated. ‘We should put to Captain Faust that if anyone comes in and seizes a foothold here, it should be the Republic, not us. Even if we help them.’

Tycho’s expression flickered. Then he nodded. ‘It makes a lot of sense. Look, Valance, I hope we can use Underspace as an opportunity to bring Rho Detara closer to the local community. I hope they see it as a chance and make it their buy-in to not get subsumed by everyone around them, including us. But we have to prepare for in case that doesn’t work.’

‘You can prepare for that not working. I’m going to give this the best chance I can.’ She jabbed a finger at the screen. ‘You can put my idea past Faust. Get a pat on the head for it while you keep smiling at the Elkari. Gives you a bigger stick to carry while you walk softly.’

Valance was relieved, when she made it back to her quarters, to find them empty. At first. She did not know how long she’d been sat in the armchair, the lights still gloomy, before the doors slid open and Rivera walked in.

‘Hells, Valance, you nearly gave me a heart attack.’ Rivera swore more, clutching her chest as she turned the light on. ‘What’re you doing?’

Brooding. Valance did not look up. ‘You’ve got to know a lot of Starfleet captains.’

‘I… some. Yeah. I’ve worked with a few.’

‘Do any of them affect anything more than what’s right in front of their ships if they don’t play the game?’

‘You mean, politics?’ Rivera’s nose wrinkled. ‘Well, no. That’s what playing the game is. Politics isn’t a dirty word. It’s about using influence to get what you want. Your captains all did it.’

It hadn’t seemed it. MacCallister was so committed to upholding the old ways of Starfleet that he’d defied his superiors many a time, but now Valance had to consider that he must have earned enough credit in the past to later on blow it on what he cared about. Rourke acted like he didn’t care about anything above his head, but he’d always managed his relationship with Admiral Beckett, made sure it was a reciprocal dynamic.

While she’d spent a decade as nothing but the first officer, shoring these men up but not dipping a toe in, because she’d thought she needed to be a certain kind of Starfleet officer. It was the right kind of XO to be. But was it the right sort of captain?

Valance scrubbed her face with her hands and stood with an obvious burst of frustration. ‘Every time – every time – I think Starfleet is turning a corner, something reminds me it’s not that simple. Every time I try to uphold us being better, there’s always some devil on someone’s shoulder, and that devil’s right, but we should be defying it, challenging it – listening to what it says and then figuring out how to beat it…’

‘Hey…’ Rivera advanced, and Valance hadn’t realised how shaky she’d been in her anger until her hand was on her arm. ‘I’d ask what’s happened, but I bet you can’t tell me.’

Valance swallowed, chest heaving. ‘No. No, I can’t.’

Rivera watched her, eyes scraping over her face. ‘This seems a pretty normal time to doubt yourself, you know? We’re far from home. You’re far from your ship. You feel like all you’ve got is yourself, so if that doesn’t feel like enough for some reason, that’s gonna make you shaky.’ Her other hand came up to her arm, touch firmer. ‘Let me put my journalist hat down for just a second. If you’ll let me.’

Valance forced her breathing to slow. ‘Frankly… you’ve dived more under my skin and into my head than anyone in… a while.’

‘Sure,’ said Rivera more softly. ‘Though I don’t know for sure what you need. Pep talk? You know you’re good. What’s freaking you out is things you can’t control. Whatever politics are going on here, and you don’t have your ship…’

A short laugh escaped Valance’s throat. ‘How stupid,’ she mused, ‘that you do figure me out quicker than I do.’ The politics were a lot to deal with. But if she’d had Endeavour’s decks under her feet, she’d have had options. Ways of responding. Now, she had nothing, and was on Tycho’s territory.

‘I’d say it’s my job,’ said Rivera quietly. ‘But you should know that the Sunny Side Diner doesn’t serve raktajino and I had to bring that to our first meeting myself.’ At Valance’s confused look, she gave a small smile. ‘Hey. My article on you is with the editor. I don’t have to have a conflict of interest any more. Just an interest.’

If Valance had had Endeavour’s decks underfoot, it would have been different. She’d have been a captain able to impact a whole sector, able to change the fate of this world, this aperture. Turn Starfleet away from hawkish caution, bring the sector together with peace, not fear.

She wouldn’t have felt helpless. She wouldn’t have felt alone. And she might not have felt so desperately, desperately in need of an escape, an outlet, that the first gleam of light and warmth was like a flame to a moth.

If things had been different, she wouldn’t have kissed Rivera. Kissed her like she could drown in her, kissed her like she could block out the whole galaxy and its perils and choices.

But things weren’t different. So she kissed her.