The soft hum of the environmental controls stirred Hawkins awake. Blinking against the simulated sunlight streaming through the sheer drapes, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. The oversized bed he lay in was shrouded in dark silk sheets that felt impossibly smooth against his skin. Turning his head, he noticed the empty space beside him, the sheets cool to the touch. A faint, pleasant scent lingered in the air.  

With a groan, Hawkins sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist. He glanced around the room, taking in its luxury. A low seating area of plush navy-blue couches encircled a glass coffee table, while a nearby display case showcased an array of rare artefacts, likely treasures Radcliffe had collected since joining the Independent Archaeologists Guild.  

His gaze settled on the pièce de résistance in the centre of the living space: a grand piano. Its polished surface gleamed, the lid propped open to reveal pristine keys. Hawkins smirked to himself as he rose, slipping into the trousers and shirt he had hastily discarded the night before.  

Padding over to the piano, Hawkins trailed his fingers lightly across the keys without pressing down, remembering how Radcliffe used to play when they were younger. Radcliffe would lose himself in the music; his brow furrowed in concentration, his hands moving with fluid precision. Starfleet Academy hadn’t exactly left room for such pursuits, but Radcliffe had occasionally stolen moments to play whenever they found a piano in a bar. When they were on D-S-Nineteen, he would regularly play and sing for crowds after a long day on duty. 

Hawkins smiled faintly, his fingers pausing on one of the keys. Does he still play? He wondered. Before he could dwell further, the soft sound of footsteps behind him made him turn.  

“Caught you,” Radcliffe teased, his voice low and warm. Hawkins hadn’t even heard him approach. He felt Radcliffe’s arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close. The heat of Radcliffe’s damp body seeped through Hawkins’ half-buttoned shirt, and a lingering drop of water fell from Radcliffe’s hair onto his shoulder.  

Radcliffe placed a lingering kiss on Hawkins’ cheek. “Good morning, handsome,” he murmured against his skin.  

Hawkins smirked, twisting around in Radcliffe’s embrace until they were face to face. Radcliffe was wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, his hair tousled and still wet from the shower.  

“Good morning,” Hawkins replied, looping his arms around Radcliffe’s neck. He leaned in, brushing his lips against Radcliffe’s in a slow, deliberate kiss.  

When they pulled apart, Radcliffe grinned. “Last night was… amazing,” he said. 

Hawkins couldn’t argue with that. “It was like old times,” He shared before looking around the room. “I should head back to my place, shower and get changed.” Hawkins looked down at the dishevelled look. 

Radcliffe pulled Hawkins closer to him. “Stay with me, Tom,” He begged. “Take a shower here, and I’ll get some clothes sent up. And how about I make us breakfast? Something real—not replicated.”  

Hawkins raised an eyebrow. “You? Cooking? I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.”  

Radcliffe laughed, stepping back but keeping a hand on Hawkins’ waist. “I’ve learned a few things since being on Xandaria. Trust me, you’ll love it. I don’t just live by replicators or sonic showers anymore. I cook my own food; I use proper water showers – it’s changed my life.”  

Hawkins chuckled and shook his head. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, Mister Change!”

Radcliffe released him. “Go take a shower, and let me surprise you!”  He headed toward the kitchenette, the towel slipping slightly as he walked. Hawkins let his gaze linger before turning back to the piano. He pressed a single key, allowing the rich note to fill the room.  

“You still play?” Hawkins called out.  

Radcliffe glanced over his shoulder, a sly smile on his lips. “Sometimes. Not as much as I’d like, though; you know how life gets in the way.”  

“Shame,” Hawkins said, running his fingers along the keys again. “You were good.”  

“Still am,” Radcliffe replied with a wink before disappearing into the kitchen. “Now get yourself cleaned up while I cook you something good!”  

The sound of cooking soon filled the suite—the sizzle of something in a pan and the clatter of utensils. Hawkins wandered back to the bedroom. The shower in the en-suite bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the suite. The sensation of warm water, not sonic waves, eased tension in his muscles. Hawkins leaned against the tiled wall, allowing the warmth to envelop him as his thoughts drifted.

He reminded himself to stay focused. This wasn’t about rekindling something with Radcliffe—it was about the mission, about gathering intel. Still, there was no denying the connection they shared.

Once out of the shower, he was greeted by an assortment of neatly folded clothes laid out on the bed. Hawkins smirked, appreciating the gesture but remaining cautious. He discreetly pulled out a small handheld scanner he’d concealed in his trousers and waved it over the garments. Satisfied that there were no hidden bugs or surveillance devices, he dressed quickly and returned to the main living space.

Radcliffe had set the table, the aroma of freshly cooked food filling the air. Plates of eggs, seared strips of meat, and a variety of vibrant fruits were arranged with care.

“Consider me impressed,” Hawkins said, taking a seat across from him. “This looks amazing.”  

“See? Told you,” Radcliffe replied, handing him a fork.  

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before the door chime interrupted them. Radcliffe sighed, setting his fork down. “Probably Torvak,” he muttered, rising to answer the door.  

Sure enough, Sirin Torvak stood on the other side, dressed sharply as usual. Her long, curly blonde hair rested on either of her shoulders. She nodded politely to both men as she stepped just inside the room. “Sorry to intrude,” she began, “but Orlando, I need to reschedule our trip to the orbital station. Something’s come up that requires my attention.”  

Radcliffe waved off her apology. “No problem. Just let me know when you’re ready.”  

Torvak’s gaze flicked briefly to Hawkins, her expression unreadable. “Enjoy your morning,” she said before turning and leaving as swiftly as she’d arrived.  

Hawkins raised an eyebrow. “She seems…efficient,” he commented.  

“That’s Torvak for you,” Radcliffe replied with a shrug, returning to the table.  

As they resumed their meal, Radcliffe leaned back in his chair with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How about we spend the day together? I can show you around Xandaria—there are some incredible places to see. We could head to the beaches and spend some time there.”  

Hawkins hesitated, formulating an excuse. “Tempting,” he began, “but I’ve already got a meeting with a few prominent collectors this afternoon. I set it up before arriving here.” 

Radcliffe’s disappointment was fleeting. “Dinner tonight, then?”  

“Absolutely,” Hawkins said with a smile.  

Radcliffe reached across the table to clasp Hawkins’ hand. “I can’t wait.”  

After finishing breakfast, Hawkins rose to leave, and Radcliffe followed him to the door. They shared a brief, lingering kiss before parting ways. As Hawkins stepped into the corridor, he allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts. The game was still on, and he was playing it masterfully. For now. 

Hawkins kept his footsteps light as he moved through the building’s quiet corridors, the early morning stillness offering an advantage. The grand hallways, with their intricate carvings and ambient lighting, were devoid of the life they teemed with during the gala the night before. He had memorised the path from Radcliffe’s suite, his mind replaying the moments he glimpsed the heavily guarded areas through the glass turbolift.  

As he approached one of the doors that had been manned by security the night before, Hawkins slowed his steps. One careful after another. Surprisingly, the guards were absent. His instincts screamed caution, but this was the best opportunity he might get.  

Pulling out his concealed hand scanner, Hawkins activated its stealth functions. The small device emitted a faint hum, confirming that there were no surveillance systems or active monitoring in the immediate vicinity. Satisfied, he stepped toward the door, the scanner working quickly to bypass its electronic lock. With a faint click, the door slid open, and Hawkins slipped inside, the scanner automatically resetting the lock behind him.  

The room was dimly lit, with computer terminals and control interfaces lining the walls. Screens displayed various schematics, logs, and what appeared to be surveillance feeds from different parts of the building. A larger terminal seemed to function as the primary hub in the centre of the room.  

Hawkins moved quickly, his eyes scanning for anything useful. Reaching the central terminal, he placed his hand scanner against its interface. The device buzzed as it worked, bypassing layers of encryption before finally granting access.  

On the screen, a database opened, listing countless items. It was a catalogue of Briasyraa’s inventory, detailing everything from ancient artefacts to advanced technology. Hawkins’ heart raced when he found a subsection marked Daystrom Acquisition Plans. He opened the file and scrolled through technical specifications, stolen schematics, and logistical data. All of this was the evidence he needed to link Briasyraa directly to the missing technology.  

“Jackpot,” Hawkins murmured under his breath. He initiated a download to his scanner, the device silently pulling the data. As the progress bar ticked up, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.  

With the download completed, Hawkins shut the terminal down, leaving no trace of his access. He exited the room as quietly as he had entered, ensuring the door was locked behind him.  

Descending the building’s back stairwell, he paused when movement caught his eye. A figure emerged from one of the secured rooms down the corridor. It was Torvak. She was dressed differently from earlier when she had visited him and Radcliffe during breakfast. Her blonde hair was tightly tied up into a bun, and her Romulan ears were apparent in the tight black clothing she wore.  

Hawkins froze, watching her slip through a narrow window with practised grace. Anti-grav boots activated silently, and she began walking up the exterior wall, her movements smooth and effortless. She glanced over her shoulder, her keen Romulan eyes locking onto Hawkins as she ascended.  

To his surprise, she waved playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. She didn’t appear alarmed or even particularly interested in what he was doing. Instead, she carried on her strange ascent, disappearing over the top of the wall.  

What in the hell is she up to? Hawkins thought, his mind racing. He decided not to linger and quickly exited the building, making his way back to his suite.  

He decided to walk all the way back. The long trek gave him time to consider everything he had experienced in the past day, which seemed like a lot. Every time he thought about something else, Hawkins kept reminding himself to focus on the mission.  

When he rounded the corner to his door, he stopped abruptly. Torvak was there, seated casually on the floor with her legs crossed. She looked up at him as if she had been expecting him all along.  

“You have a habit of showing up in unexpected places,” Hawkins said, masking his suspicion with a smirk.  

Torvak stood gracefully, brushing off her sleek trousers. “I could say the same about you,” she replied, tone light but pointed.  

“What are you doing here?”  

She tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Probably the same thing you’re doing on Xandaria,” she said cryptically. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she added, “Though I suspect our methods differ.”  

Hawkins crossed his arms. “Care to elaborate?”  

Torvak smiled faintly, stepping closer. “Just be careful, Thomas,” she said softly. “Especially with Orlando.”  

The mention of Radcliffe caught Hawkins off guard, and he frowned. “What does that mean?”  

Torvak didn’t answer directly. Instead, her expression softened. “I’ve never seen him this happy. Not since I’ve known him. Whatever you’re doing, try not to break him. Things may surprise you.” Before Hawkins could press her further, she stepped back, offering him a small, almost apologetic smile. “Enjoy your morning,” she said as she turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner.  

Hawkins stared after her, her words echoing in his mind. Confused and intrigued, he finally entered his suite. Torvak’s cryptic warning lingered in his thoughts, but he couldn’t shake the strange encounter—or her remark about Radcliffe’s happiness.  What did she know? What did he not know? Or was she trying to throw him off? Push him down a trail of lies, of deceit. Or was she being genuine? Could he trust her? Would he want to trust her? 

Alone in his suite, Hawkins paced briefly before sitting down. He had the data he needed, but the situation was growing more complex by the minute. One thing was clear: Torvak wasn’t just another player on Xandaria. There was something else going on here, and he was starting to wonder how much he needed to be involved. Falling onto one of the couches heavy, he sighed as he rubbed his face. Deciding to get out of the clothes that Radcliffe had given him from earlier, he decided he would get changed and then work out what his next move would be. Taking one more breath, Hawkins rubbed his face and got up. The mission needed him to be steadfast in his decision-making. He would try his best to look through the data he collected before seeing Radcliffe for their evening meal. Perhaps he could get closer and find another way into the central ring of whatever operations Radcliffe was involved with as Briasyraa’s right-hand man.