The interrogation room in the Starfleet Liaison Tower was small, cold, and plain, smelling of recycled air and antiseptic; the textbook definition of impersonal. Cassidy entered first, silent and taking up position against the far wall. Arms folded across his chest, he stood with squared shoulders, eyes unreadable. Rosewood had seen him take the same stance facing off against enemies, the message plain: I’m not here to negotiate.

That was Rosewood’s job.

Talia Vaughn barely looked up. She was already seated at the table, hands flat on the surface, unrestrained because nobody could yet prove she was dangerous enough for that to be necessary. Not this far from any escape routes. Rosewood could see her eyes, though. Tired, but sharp.

‘Lieutenant Vaughn,’ he said, voice even as the door hissed shut behind him. ‘Thanks for talking with us.’

She looked up, now. Her eyes flickered between him and Cassidy, and her stance shifted. Rosewood could almost see as she assessed Cassidy and saw the brick wall, the face of the institution, immovable. He offered a faint smile, carving awkward sincerity into his face. Not a condescending offer of genuine solidarity; that wouldn’t be believed. Something gentler. More open.

More Starfleet.

He crossed the room and pulled out the chair opposite her. He had no PADD, no recording devices, no paperwork. Procedure was for outside. He was just here to talk. ‘You already know why you’re here.’

‘They told me,’ Vaughn grunted, but an eyebrow was raised. Cautious. Distant. ‘Though I wonder what version you’ve been given.’

‘Three dead,’ said Cassidy, breaking the moment with bluntness. Just as they’d planned. ‘Newton, Castaneda, Chu. All civil administrators from before the occupation, during, after. All found dumped in the industrial sector. “Traitor” scrawled on the wall beside them.’

Vaughn looked up at him. ‘Shame,’ she said blandly.

‘We tracked the vehicle that dumped them,’ Cassidy countered. ‘Belonged to one of your resistance buddies. Except, he’s dead. Except, you’ve been the one driving it around. Were driving it that night. The timeline’s clear.’ He didn’t move, didn’t pace, let the words fall like thudding footsteps.

‘That’s a bit thin,’ she pointed out.

‘Is it? Seems whoever did it believed something about the victims. Something which might matter a lot to a former member of the resistance. And you’re in the right place at the right time.’

Her eyes flickered between them. ‘Starfleet officers,’ she said carefully, ‘are supposed to be dedicated to the truth.’

‘You’re the one suspected of a triple murder,’ Cassidy pointed out.

‘And if you were interested in the truth, you’d care why.’

Rosewood glanced up at Cassidy. It was time for a change of tack. The big man stepped back, and Rosewood clasped his hands on the desk and held Vaughn’s gaze for a beat.

‘I read your file,’ he said gently. ‘You blew up Vaadwaur checkpoints when they were vacated of civilians. Ran energy relays between resistance cells. Got medical supplies to the wounded.’

She tilted her head. ‘Wow. I wasn’t sure those records still existed. There’s a lot of people who’d rather what happened during the occupation just… vanished.’

‘I’m not here to make you vanish.’

Vaughn gestured about the interrogation room. ‘This isn’t exactly an open space.’

Rosewood paused. ‘You think we’re here to clean up something inconvenient.’

‘I know what it looks like,’ Vaughn grunted. ‘But look at you. You weren’t on the ground during the occupation. You didn’t watch neighbours get disappeared while the people in charge smiled and said it was necessary to do nothing to “keep people safe.” You’ve walked in after the fact like you understand. You don’t understand.’

‘You’re right. I wasn’t here during the occupation. My unit was with Sirius Squadron.’ He leaned forward as she paused at that. ‘My unit took out the Blackout Outpost. Started the liberation of Innes. My name’s John Rosewood. You might have heard of me.’

It was more bragging than he’d have usually liked. But the transmission from Innes had gone across the system, had lit the spark of Starfleet’s mission to liberate Alpha Centauri. Invoking it was the clearest path he could see to make her trust him.

To make her believe he was on her side.

‘We’re not from any kind of internal affairs,’ he carried on gently. ‘We’re not here to smooth over cracks. We’ve been brought in from outside to not do that. I saw what the Vaadwaur did to these worlds. Watched on subspace transmissions. Talked to survivors on Innes. I’ve no sympathy for anyone who helped them.’

She hesitated, and he didn’t let that last too long. Else she’d lock down. He put his hand on the table, flat, pointed. ‘Why these three? Why now?’

On her personnel file, she’d looked like most young Starfleet officers he’d ever met. Bright-eyed. Committed. Hopeful. When she sighed, now, he could see little hint of that spark. Only exhaustion.

‘I gave them… everything,’ she said. ‘After the war. I sat down with the intelligence units trying to piece together what happened in the occupation, and told them what I’d done. And what I’d seen. Who’d handed over names. Who’d signed off on resource seizures. Who kept the Vaadwaur machines running while the rest of us hid underground.’

Rosewood stayed silent. Silence encouraged people to fill it, and if he so much as breathed wrong, now, she might clam up.

‘Those reports were accepted,’ she continued. ‘They were compiling an internal review, they said. Something discreet. For accountability, after things calmed down.’ Her eyes lifted, and there was something different there, now. Something cool and bitter.

‘There’s a list,’ said Vaughn. ‘I don’t know what they call it officially, but I saw parts of it. Dozens of names. Civil officials. Community leaders. People who made deals to survive. People who helped the Vaadwaur slaughter hundreds, directly and indirectly, to save their own skins.’

Rosewood’s throat tightened, but he kept his voice level. ‘What happened to the list?’

‘Nothing,’ Vaughn spat. ‘They sat on it. Said a public reckoning would destabilise things. Cause a witch hunt. Derail healing. And when I pushed, when I told them we had a right to the truth… they started asking me questions.’

When she moved again, it was neither with caution nor exhaustion. Her hands came together, fingers picking at each other. Frustrated. Awkward. Nervous.

‘They reminded me how a lot of my people, how a lot of the resistance, publicly worked with the V. Worked inside the administration. They were passing on intel, sabotaging systems, but to stay in those positions, they had to play along sometimes.’ She picked at a fingernail, bit her lip, stared at nothing. ‘And the Starfleet team going through everything said… well, how can you prove who was really helping the Vaadwaur? If we go after those guys, those people who sold our people out… don’t we have to go after the resistance, too? They helped the Vaadwaur, too?’

Cassidy spoke at last, voice a grunt. ‘Who’s “they?”’ he asked. ‘The officers you spoke to?’

Her eyes swam up to him. Rosewood wasn’t sure she was completely seeing them any more. ‘I… SFI. Internal Affairs. Unit from Sol, Commander… Ingram, I think. They went back to Sol.’ She blinked, still not seeing more, and looked back at Rosewood. ‘When I threatened to speak out, they made it clear. Made it clear they’d destroy my friends. The ones who survived. The ones who died. That they’d all get tarred with the same brush. Traitors.’

She looked back down at her hands for a long moment. Rosewood, again, let the silence do the talking for him.

‘I didn’t have a list,’ she said at last. ‘Not like theirs. Not with names and dossiers and records. I had three people.’ Her voice stayed even, but the words came slower now, like a recital. ‘Three people I remembered. Faces I’d seen back then, when we were keeping low, getting people out of danger. People who gave up my friends. Who provided the Vaadwaur with lists of which families should be rounded up. Who helped the Vaadwaur shut down clinics and supplies to the people to push to the war front. Just to save their own necks. While the rest of us disappeared. I didn’t… I don’t know who the big fish are. They must exist. But these three… I could reach.’

Rosewood watched her, but now he prompted. ‘You planned it.’

Interrogation 101. Frame your suspicions like a statement. Force them to go with your point of view, or correct you.

‘I planned it,’ she echoed. ‘I watched their routines. Checked the schedules. Remembered the blind spots. It wasn’t about… making a statement. It was just what I could do.’

This isn’t a confession.

‘But they were the ones you could prove. The worst ones. The ones who deserved some consequence,’ he said quietly.

Everyone wants to be understood. More than anything else. Make them think you understand. Make them think you sympathise.

Talia Vaughn swallowed. ‘Yes.’

Nobody said anything else. There was a long silence before Rosewood finally stood, his chair legs scraping across the floor. Cassidy followed, a silent shadow now, no longer needed as the muscle, the threat. They stepped out into the corridor together, and the door slid shut behind them.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Cassidy let out a slow breath, shoulders dropping, the facade fading. ‘You cracked her,’ he said with a nod.

‘I think the Vaadwaur did that,’ Rosewood mused. ‘She spent months where violence was her only reaction to helplessness. Then someone in SFI did the same to her.’

‘Still murder,’ Cassidy grunted. ‘And still good work from you.’

Rosewood sighed and turned to him. ‘This list. You think it’s real?’

‘It’s plausible. I don’t know Ingram.’

‘Takahashi would know, though.’

‘Yes,’ said Cassidy, more careful. ‘Takahashi would know.’

‘That’s one more loose end to tie off, then.’

Another beat. They regarded each other, debating, arguing even in the silence. They both knew what the other was thinking. What the other would say. How this would play out.

Cassidy grunted at last. ‘One loose end to tie off,’ he conceded. ‘Come on.’