The Archanis Campaign: USS Endeavour
LadyBlue
Member, Administrator, Moderator, Admiralty
Say something to us that we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says "I burn."
- ‘Take Something Like a Star,’ Robert Frost
This thread is for Episode 6: I Burn, the Archanis Campaign mission of the USS Endeavour, a Manticore-class starship in Task Force 86 under the command of Captain Matt Rourke. Her continuing adventures can be found here.
This story is rated 2-2-2.
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Lieutenant Drake made Endeavour’s docking at Starbase 27 look easy, and not like threading a needle with almost four hundred metres of tritanium. But the job wasn’t quite finished.
‘Full halt reached,’ Drake reported. ‘Docking clamps deployed by starbase.’
‘Systems connection established,’ said Lieutenant Thawn at Ops, and they felt the faint hum of the deck as Starbase 27’s computers and networks connected to Endeavour, ensuring cohesion while they were buried in the belly of the spacedock.
‘And now we’re all in the hands of some unknown docking engineer,’ Captain Rourke mused wryly, getting to his feet. ‘Don’t get comfy; I don’t know how long we’ll be here. Consider Commander Cortez to be your god when it comes to work or resource order prioritisation, Lieutenant Thawn.’
Lieutenant Thawn looked like she’d sooner burn her console than take instructions from anyone, even their Chief Engineer, on such a responsibility. But Rourke knew better than to give her a window to argue, and looked to his right. ‘The ship is yours, XO.’
Commander Valance stood, hands clasping behind her back. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me in the meeting, sir?’
‘I’ll spare you the experience of Admiral Beckett’s charm in-person. Don’t say I never do anything for you.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,’ she deadpanned.
He left with a smirk, though his gaze sobered as he passed Tactical. Lieutenant Kharth was granted a firm nod and reassuring look; he’d have reached out more, but he didn’t think his Chief of Security would appreciate such an open gesture. Rourke doubted very much that Saeihr t’Kharth, wayward protégé - informal agent - of Alexander Beckett would be pressing a good deal on the admiral’s mind today, but that was Beckett’s gift. He burrowed under the skin and stayed there, even if he’d stopped giving you a second thought.
Rourke was more adept at keeping the admiral out. So his trip to board Starbase 27, to leave the docking bay for the offices Fourth Fleet Command had assumed was spent in observation and analysis rather than undue consideration of what lay ahead. The situation had a lot to analyse.
He’d not been to the Archanis Sector for over ten years, and he’d run an investigation team at the time. The collapse of the Romulan Star Empire had prompted a resurgence of border troubles as every petty crook, smuggler, or gangster tried to take advantage of the galaxy’s eyes turning elsewhere. With its proximity to the Orion Colonies, Archanis had kept him busy. But that was a decade ago. For long years, these worlds had been nothing but the sleepy end of the Federation, with enough eras of peace with the Klingon Empire that nobody thought much of them.
But chaos was come again, and in response was the largest deployment of Starfleet ships Rourke had seen in some time - though such operations were far from his speciality. He knew where his strengths lay, which was why he had no small apprehension at Beckett’s personal summons.
There it was. The bastard hadn’t taken long worming back into his thoughts.
Admiral Beckett had not, it also transpired, taken very long to make his mark on the offices given over to the Fourth Fleet’s deployment, of which he had assumed command despite his post as Director of Intelligence. Rourke had seen these habits in dozens of offices by now, and was too accustomed to the tricks. Grand art as a demonstration of sophistication and resources. A dynamic projection of whatever region or issue was most pressing in that moment. And a holographic display across one wall to mimic a window, always giving a view of some grandeur or another from on high, as if they were looking over the world. As if Beckett were overlooking the world.
At least he was spared pretentious music.
‘Matt. Coffee?’ Beckett turned in his chair at his arrival, away from the view, and stood. A quick glance was levelled at Lieutenant Dathan, his newest shadow, and Rourke had to smother a smirk as she met his gaze inscrutably. She was his strategic liaison officer, an analyst and adviser, and was most certainly not going to get the coffee unless he dared ask openly.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Rourke, perverse in that way Beckett always made him want to be, and headed for the replicator. ‘Still take it milky and frothy and with some sort of silly syrup?’
Beckett’s eyes narrowed. ‘However is fine. Do sit down, Matt.’
‘Only once we’ve all got a cuppa. Something for you, Lieutenant?’ Dathan cast a quick glance at Beckett, but declined. Picking his battles, Rourke was swift to bring two steaming mugs to the desk, and sat down. ‘So what’s going on that you ask for me personally?’
Beckett’s jaw was tight, and Rourke wondered if he’d made a mistake exhausting the admiral’s goodwill on the pettiest of points. ‘You will have read the briefing. The D’Ghor.’
‘It’s unlike them.’ Rourke scratched his beard. ‘Bolder than they should be, further out than they should be. You think the Mo’Kai put them up to this?’
‘That’s speculation at this point. My people are looking into it.’ Beckett’s meaning was clear. Don’t concern yourself with matters above your grade. ‘But among deploying as many ships to as many beleaguered worlds as I can, a problem arose I thought would benefit from your particular skills.’
Rourke opened his hands. ‘I’m not sure bloodthirsty raiders of unknown motivation are my area. I’m better with more complex motivations than hate.’
‘That’s over-simplistic,’ said Lieutenant Dathan quietly, and he looked at her. She shrugged. ‘Your experience with Klingons as well as aberrant psychologies makes you as well-positioned as anyone to comprehend the D’Ghor.’
‘Really not a fan of “aberrant psychologies,”’ Rourke admitted.
‘Then you do view them as more nuanced than that.’
He didn’t expect to be relieved that Beckett intervened. ‘What I mean, Matt, is that you might have four pips now, you might have one of Starfleet’s greatest weapons of defence under your command. But you’re still the best thief-taker I ever met.’
Rourke shifted his bulk in the chair. He knew it was intended as a backhanded compliment; that for all of his achievements, for however much he was now a respected starship commander, to Beckett he was just another faithful bloodhound. Another dagger for the back-alleys of the galaxy. ‘What do you have for me. Orions sticking their noses in?’
‘Oh, no. Still the D’Ghor. But I want you to find one in particular. Or at least his ship.’ Beckett waved a hand to his holo-display, which changed to show the square features of a rather young adult Klingon male. ‘Meet Gaveq, son of Vornir, a childhood play-mate of the Archanis D’Ghor’s leader, Kuskir, and the head of a raid in the Talmiru system.’
Rourke scratched his beard again. ‘What’s so special about him?’
‘We know very little,’ said Lieutenant Dathan. ‘From a former vassal house of the D’Ghor who remained loyal. We still have multiple pending requests with the KDF for their files on individual D’Ghor; all we know about Gaveq personally is his lifelong allegiance to and friendship with Kuskir.’
‘About whom we also know bugger and all, really. Gaveq’s one of his lieutenants?’ Rourke’s eyebrows went up. ‘Sending me after the backing singers?’
‘Heads of the hydra,’ Beckett mused. ‘And this head stole a Vor’cha from the KDF seven years ago, the Kut’luch.’
Rourke sat up at that. ‘I thought the D’Ghor were out there in Birds-of-Prey and were lucky to grab a K’t’inga.’
‘Hence my concern that a young, brash, favoured lieutenant of Kuskir’s is flying around in the Archanis sector in an attack cruiser he seized in… well, exactly how is also a matter on which the KDF could be more forthcoming.’ Beckett waved a hand. ‘We’re still establishing a firm profile of the D’Ghor’s deployment capabilities. Gaveq might not be the only captain with big teeth. But he’s one we know about.’
Rourke clicked his tongue. ‘You don’t just want me hunting down a lieutenant. You want a Manticore hunting down a cloaked Vor’cha on the prowl.’
‘That does, in fact, help make my assignments easier,’ said Beckett.
‘It’s unclear if Gaveq is acting alone or leading other ships,’ Dathan elaborated. ‘Obviously with even one or two Birds-of-Prey he’ll be a formidable opponent.’
‘If he’s got one or two Birds-of-Prey, I want backup,’ Rourke said without shame.
‘Find signs of a task group and we’ll talk,’ said Beckett brusquely. ‘What you should be worrying about is our first lead. The good news there is there’s every indication the Kut’luch attacked Talmiru II on its own.’
‘I guess the bad news is the proximity of Talmiru,’ said Rourke.
‘It’s the heaviest strike this deep into Federation territory,’ said Dathan, reaching towards Beckett’s holo-display to bring up the map of the Archanis sector. Rourke had seen the map in Beckett’s briefing records, the afflicted systems glowing a livid red, but now it zoomed in to show just how bold a raid on Talmiru had been. ‘Humanitarian operations are already underway, but that’s disaster relief.’
‘We’re hoping Gaveq left a scent for you,’ said Beckett. ‘You’ve got Task Force Command briefing next?’
Rourke nodded. ‘I’ll need to at least stick my head in on 86.’
‘Branson will give you marching orders; consider them a secondary priority. I want you to pick up the trail at Talmiru, and stop the Kut’luch. If the raids on Archanis are a sign of any wider agenda on Kuskir’s part, I expect Gaveq to be a part of it, or at least hold essential intelligence.’ He waved a hand to his right. ‘Which is why Lieutenant Dathan will be going with you.’
Rourke stared. A quick glance at Dathan showed no expression, but she had frozen in-place in a manner he suspected was telling. Did he not warn you your time as his favourite was coming to an end? His sympathy was limited. ‘Sir? The Wild Hunt operation shows my crew are perfectly capable -’
‘Of analysis of a considerably smaller group of pirates operating on a much lesser scale. I want Endeavour’s resources and proximity to the action used to scope out emerging patterns and respond to those.’ Beckett shrugged. ‘Who better to oversee that than my strategic analyst?’
You mean your newest spy. Rourke drummed his fingers on his coffee mug. ‘I’m not convinced that putting Lieutenant Dathan to work in my CIC is the best use of resources.’
‘There is nothing she can’t do on Endeavour she couldn’t do here. It’s just her recommendations go directly to the ears of a captain already in the field, rather than an admiral who needs to find the nearest ship.’
‘You see the limitation there if we pick up a pattern of something going on the opposite end of the sector.’
‘And you seem to think this is a debate, Matt.’ Beckett sipped his coffee with an impassive gaze. ‘Hunt Gaveq and his ship. With Lieutenant Dathan running point on strategic analysis for this particular corner of the greatest threat to strike this sector in a generation.’
Lieutenant Dathan visibly swallowed as she wrested back control, and looked at Rourke. ‘I look forward to working together, sir.’
Rourke gave her a thin smile. ‘Likewise,’ he said, not at all betraying his real thoughts.
Because his real thoughts were that Lieutenant Kharth, already smarting from his appointment of a new Hazard Team leader, was absolutely going to kill him.
‘This is just a formality,’ said Commander Valance as she sat on Counsellor Carraway’s couch. His office was maybe the cosiest room on the ship, all comfortable soft furnishings and soothing artwork, and in the gentle lighting even the stars looked softer as Endeavour streamed past them at a warp factor that made the deck hum lightly.
Carraway gave that gentle smile she knew meant he was not about to tolerate her evasion. ‘Of course.’
‘I understand the captain has to show he’s taking this seriously, I understand everyone has to do their due diligence, that there has to be a paper trail in case something goes wrong.’
Carraway’s eyebrows raised. ‘Goes wrong?’
She stopped and remembered she needed to be more careful with her words. ‘How about you just get started, Counsellor?’
‘It’s your counselling session. Feel free to talk.’
‘It’s a session on a specific topic, so we can confirm we’ve had this discussion for the record.’
Carraway’s gentle smile returned. ‘It’s a counselling session to discuss your romantic relationship with a colleague who’s in your chain of command. That’s a delicate situation which can easily turn difficult if we pretend otherwise. But with open and honest communication - with me, with the captain if necessary, and I expect especially with Commander Cortez - it doesn’t have to be a big deal.’
‘It’s not a big deal.’
‘Which is why Captain Rourke approached you before you reported it?’
Valance frowned. ‘We’ve not been hiding anything. I-’ Her jaw tightened, and she waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s only been a few months. Formally reporting the relationship was a stage I didn’t yet feel was necessary.’
‘You think this session’s unnecessary?’
Greg Carraway was, by reputation, the nicest officer on Endeavour. In many ways this wasn’t hard; the senior staff preferred sarcastic commentary to emotional accessibility, and this had only grown worse with Captain Rourke’s arrival instead of the tempering leadership of the grandfatherly Leo MacCallister. But it meant Valance sometimes underestimated how the counsellor weaponised polite questions with a smile on his face and a desire to help. It was maddening.
She let out a deep breath. ‘Commander Cortez and I hadn’t yet discussed if our relationship was at a stage where we needed to take professional responsibility.’
‘Is it at that stage? Or do you think this is premature?’
‘I think the captain’s suggestion was… timely, I suppose.’
Finally, Carraway took pity on her. ‘I’m not trying to trap you, Commander. It’s perfectly fine to feel awkward discussing your relationship with me. It’s perfectly fine to feel awkward at this sudden need to measure and define that relationship. But that apprehension makes it easy for you to not think about the relationship, not think about your feelings, and that’s a large part of how conflict between the personal and the professional arises.’
‘I don’t need the captain to rearrange away missions so we’re not together,’ sighed Valance. ‘We’re grown-ups.’
‘I’m not talking about reasonable professional measures that might be taken to insulate you from harm. I’m talking about making sure you’re equipped to navigate that conflict if it arises.’ Carraway sat back on his overstuffed armchair. A pot of tea had been set on the low, rustic coffee table between them, which now he reached for to pour two steaming mugs. ‘Like that admittedly hyperbolic exercise you take to be bridge-rated: ordering a subordinate to their death. That takes on a whole new dimension with a personal relationship.’
Valance shrugged. ‘It does. But nobody called me in when Commander Airex and I became friends. I’d hardly find it easy to order him to his death.’
Carraway sighed, and slid a teacup towards her. ‘I don’t mean to dismiss the bonds of friendship. But experience tells us that romantic relationships are often different. There can be that intensity usually felt in the earlier stages that we all know can threaten our good judgement. Or in a more long-term, serious relationship, it’s not just someone you care about that’s in danger: it’s your entire lifestyle, your future, your home that would be damaged or even destroyed without them.’
‘Commander Cortez and I are hardly at that point.’
‘Then what about the former point?’ He leaned forward, cocking his head. ‘Come on, Commander. We’ve served together for three years, and I’m not sure I’ve known you to so much as date. If you have, you’ve kept your personal life hidden. That’s changed. It’s not a weakness, but from my past observations and everything you’ve said in this session, you’re on unsteady ground. For you, Commander, this relationship is positively impulsive.’
‘I’m not really sure what you’re asking of me.’
‘I’m asking how your relationship’s progressing with Isa Cortez. I’m asking how you think that might affect your professional judgement. I’m asking you to be honest with yourself about your feelings, because if you can’t be, then you have blind spots. And at that point your private business becomes my professional concern.’ Somehow he made a pointed finger gentle, but still a jab. ‘Nobody, including you, wants us to have a session talking about you freezing up in a crisis because of this. We avoid that by making sure you know your feelings well enough to not be ambushed by them.’ He sighed and sat back. ‘So I think this is going to be multiple sessions.’
Valance clamped down on the flash of frustration, and worked her jaw. She didn’t look at him as she fished for words, finally settling on, ‘The relationship is new. We’re taking it a day at a time. We don’t have any plans for the future.’
‘Is that by agreement, or is that just something you’ve fallen into?’
‘I suppose it’s… the latter.’
‘Have you two talked about this since Captain Rourke’s intervention?’
‘We’ve been a little busy with combat prep as we’ve travelled to Archanis.’
‘Does Isa want to talk, do you think?’
‘Isa always wants to talk,’ Valance muttered before she could stop herself. Carraway’s eyebrows raised. She sighed. ‘I’m - that’s facetious. You know she’s the talker.’
‘Do you think she’s waiting for you to make the first move?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Like you say, we’re heading into potential hostile territory for the first time in months. You two should probably make time to talk.’ Carraway looked like he was going to say more, then just picked up his tea.
Again she looked away. ‘If we do that, then… then there’s something I need to bring up with her.’ For once he deployed his most dangerous weapon: silence, and she knew there was nothing for it but to elaborate. ‘Captain Rourke accidentally let something slip. That she’d had some sort of… professional trouble about past relationships in a previous assignment. I don’t know. He immediately backed off and said I should talk to her.’
‘Why -’ Carraway paused. ‘How does the thought of asking her about that make you feel?’
Valance gave a curt shrug. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what she’s going to say.’ But that felt suddenly childish, and she looked back at him. ‘I’m not trying to be difficult, Counsellor. I understand the purpose of this process, and I’ve every desire to be responsible. I understand that may not have come across…’
‘I understand, Commander. Probably better than you do.’ His gentle smile returned. ‘Funnily enough, I talk to a lot of officers who aren’t good with their emotions. You have feelings. Plenty of them. But they’re not your first port of call in navigating your life, and most of the time that’s fine. But sometimes things happen, and then your emotions become this vast shape putting pressure on you. You know the feelings are there, influencing your choices and your thoughts, and you broadly know what they are. But talking about it is hard, because that requires teasing out the individual strands in that vast blob. It’s a learned skill, Commander, being able to analyse your feelings and having the vocabulary to capture them. Just like anything else in life.’
‘You’re saying I should practice.’
‘Well, yes. But also that there’s no shame in not having mastered a skill you’ve not applied yourself to before.’
Valance swallowed. ‘I’m not comfortable being ruled by my emotions.’
‘Then you have to face them. Examine them. And you don’t have to do that alone; I encourage you to talk to Isa about your relationship, about what you want from it, and where you see it going. It’s okay to not have the answers and to figure that out together.’ He cocked his head. ‘What’s the worst that could happen if you brought that up with her?’
She frowned at that. It wasn’t the question she’d expected but it was, she realised, cutting to the heart of things. ‘Not much, I suppose. I know she’ll want to talk and listen. I know she’ll try to be understanding. I know she’ll say her side if I encourage her. And I know she’ll try to make sure we compromise.’ Valance sighed. ‘I suppose I… I worry I’ll hurt her.’
‘How?’
‘By wanting something different.’ Valance shrugged. ‘She’s… very open. In touch with her emotions. I hurt her already by pushing her away, and I think that she… lets me take the lead to avoid pushing me. While I’m content to not rush this relationship. I’m content to take it slowly and see how things progress.’
‘If she’s not brought up anything to the contrary, then it’s probably either what she wants, too, or she recognises that’s comfortable for you. Karana, everyone wants something different, in every kind of relationship. The key isn’t to make yourselves want the same thing. It’s knowing what you want, communicating that, and navigating together through common ground. Tell her what you just said. And ask her about what Rourke said. It really can be that easy.’
‘Alright.’
‘And then we’ll have a follow-up. I’d like a session with you both together, but let’s make sure you’ve spoken to me separately and to each other first.’ Carraway reached for his PADD, still projecting her file before him, though the image was opaque from her side so she couldn’t see his notes. ‘So, moving on…’
‘There’s more?’
‘How do you feel about us heading to engage Klingon pirates? Likely facing them in combat?’
She tensed. ‘Are you asking everyone about this?’
‘About possible violence ahead, potentially inflicted not just on us but civilians? You bet.’
‘I mean the fact that they’re Klingons.’
Carraway looked like he knew he’d made a mistake. ‘I’m still familiarising myself with our records on the Hunters of D’Ghor,’ he said carefully. ‘But their particular brand of violent nihilism seems more in-line with a death cult than anything I’d normally expect from a citizen of the Empire. I’m not implying you should or would feel anything in particular facing them, any more than you’d feel anything in particular facing an unpleasant band of humans.’
‘That’s a little simplistic,’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘They view themselves as, to put this in more human parlance, damned. They think they’re dishonoured for life, condemned to Gre’thor in death. That doesn’t give a Klingon a lot of options, once they’re ejected from society like that.’
He slowly reached to turn off the notes on his PADD. ‘Why did my summary bother you?’
‘We get nowhere condemning our enemies as bogeymen, Counsellor. We have to understand them.’
‘Nobody on this ship will be better at that than you. I know you don’t like it if anyone paints you as “the Klingon officer,” but the mission will benefit from your wisdom and experience.’
‘That doesn’t bother me,’ Valance said. It wasn’t a total lie, but only because of the events on T’lhab Station. It was certainly not the truth. ‘But if you’re going to help guide us through this, Counsellor, you may want to get back to your reading. It’s the only way you’ll be of use in the coming fighting.’
She knew that was too far the moment she said it, an unfair lashing out with the topic of the D’Ghor putting her on the back foot. The fixed quality to Carraway’s smile confirmed it, but he still straightened and clasped his hands in his lap. ‘We’ll meet up again next week, Commander. Try to schedule in a productive conversation with Commander Cortez before that.’ Somewhat abashed, she nodded and got to her feet, and only then, as if asking her about the weather, did he pop up with his riposte.
‘Oh, Commander? Do you think you’re condemned to Gre’thor?’
Karana Valance froze only for a heartbeat. Then she lied, ‘I really don’t care,’ and left before he could press his point.
Everything was going perfectly to plan.
It had taken no small effort to make Admiral Beckett think assigning her temporarily to Endeavour was his idea. For all the man was an arrogant blowhard he was still an astute intelligence officer, and manipulating a manipulator was a dangerous game. But Dathan Tahla’s whole life was a dangerous game, and spending the last few months under his nose was already risky enough. After all, if he found out who she really was, it’d be her head.
But now she had a few weeks of breathing room, a few weeks away from his beady eyes, and a few weeks to ascertain exactly how much of a threat to her people was presented by the crew of the USS Endeavour.
Of course, the real Dathan Tahla - this universe’s Dathan Tahla - would be very put-out at losing her comfortable position at the right-hand of a major figure in Starfleet to slum it on an escort ship, even on a temporary basis. So not only did she now have to pretend to be an upstanding, serious-minded Starfleet officer who cared about the Federation, but she had to pretend she wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be.
There were ways of making that more convincing, and it included taking herself down to the Security Department within an hour of Endeavour’s departure from Starbase 27. She won the looks she’d expected once in the offices: the side-long glances from staff set to view her as an interloper, and only grudgingly did they direct her to the facilities at the edge of the department’s section.
Good.
Dathan entered the control section outside the training room, a wide chamber visible through a window panel equipped with drones and holo-projectors to provide the officers within with a wide range of challenges. Nine officers inside were embroiled in melee training, and she recognised the combat gear reserved only for serious away missions or the Hazard Teams.
At the controls stood Lieutenant Kharth, who had to have heard Dathan’s arrival but didn’t turn. Instead she leaned over the panel, hit a few commands, and spoke into the communicator. ‘Second wave commencing.’
Dathan watched as the projections of Klingon warriors descending on the team were joined by a half-dozen more, and moved to the window. ‘They were already evenly matched.’
‘Which is why I turned up the difficulty.’ Lieutenant Kharth scowled as she looked over. ‘It’s Hazard Team training, it’s supposed to be hard. Can I help you?’
‘I’m Lieutenant Da-’
‘You’re Beckett’s latest cast-off. Feel free to tell him I said that; it might earn you back in his good graces if you keep spying on us. I assume you know who I am.’
It was odd to get this rudeness from Starfleet officers. Dathan had become accustomed to their unfailing courtesies. But that was on assignment deep within safe, protected space. Maybe front-line Starfleet did have a little more teeth. Or this was just what she got from a Romulan. She forced a fixed smile. ‘Lieutenant Kharth, Chief of Security. I’d hoped to speak with you.’
‘I figured you weren’t here for your health.’ Kharth leaned over the controls again and hit a button. An alert siren blared briefly, and she spoke again into comms. ‘You’re down, Palacio. Stay down.’
‘I’ve barely unpacked and only had a brief turn about the CIC,’ Dathan pressed. ‘I see you’re using a modified software to the usual package.’
‘That package was designed solely for strategic concerns. It wasn’t great for what the captain liked to call “investigative” operations but I’d just call anti-insurrectionist. More shades of grey. Recent Starfleet developers weren’t told to help analyse complex issues, they were just told to point us in the direction of who we should shoot.’ Kharth didn’t look away from the fighting, sounding disinterested.
‘Except that we’re now back in a purely military operation,’ said Dathan. ‘And you’re operating on modified software.’
‘If you roll it back, I think Chief T’Kalla will come right out of that training room and stab you,’ said Kharth, nodding at the Hazard Team.
‘I wasn’t suggesting -’
‘Look, they’ll be dead in a few minutes. This is the Chief’s job now, and yours. The captain’s made it abundantly clear it’s not my problem.’ Kharth arched a long eyebrow at her. ‘Analysing and anticipating the D’Ghor’s strategy was apparently determined so important it needed taking off my plate and giving to you, so don’t come crawling to me if you can’t hack it.’
It wasn’t hard to pretend to be put-off by this attitude. ‘I’ve no concern for my analytical skills. Only concern for how much you’ve broken the software.’
‘I guess you could go cry to Lieutenant Thawn about that instead of me.’ But Kharth looked back to the training and pressed the comms. ‘And you’re all dead. Terrible job! Pick yourselves up, cool down, and we’ll move to debrief in ten.’ The holographic displays in the training room faded, leaving nine rather battered and, Dathan thought, unimpressed-looking officers.
‘Is that your standard motivational method?’ she asked Kharth.
‘We just discussed what’s not my job. This? Isn’t yours. But if your work’s so hard, you can hang around until T’Kalla’s free to hand-hold you through our changes.’
Before Dathan could summon a retort, the door slid open and the Hazard Team trudged out. She hadn’t studied their records, only immediately recognising Chief Petty Officer T’Kalla, whose responsibility it was to manage the CIC, and it took her a second longer than she’d have liked to place the last man out, the tall and broad figure in an officer’s pips. Adamant Rhade was a last-second assignment to Endeavour and she hadn’t had much chance to study his file.
‘Good work,’ Rhade was saying to his team as he emerged, clapping the particularly battered figure she suspected was Palacio on the shoulder. ‘You kept cohesion right to the end even as we were dropping; that was a hell of a test of discipline.’
Kharth’s eyes narrowed at him as the other Hazard Team headed for the locker room. ‘That’s a bit premature as praise, considering you were all beaten.’
Rhade blinked and loosened his combat harness at the neck. ‘We were supposed to win that? I thought that was a disciplinary attrition drill.’
‘It was winnable.’
‘Then it’s just as well this was training, where making mistakes is as important to learning as success.’ His expression and deep, mellifluous voice were unfailingly polite, even though he looked worn and tired. Dathan rather admired his poise. ‘And brow-beating officers doesn’t reinforce best practice even in the face of errors.’
Watching someone else have no patience for Kharth was somewhat gratifying. Dathan took a step back. ‘I’d best leave you to the debrief.’
‘No,’ said Kharth roughly. ‘I’d best get ready for it, if Lieutenant Rhade just wants to give his team a cuddle and tell them everything’s going to be alright while Klingons cut them apart. I’ll send Chief T’Kalla to tell you how to turn the CIC on when we’re done.’ Dathan kept her expression flat as the security chief left for the briefing room, but found Rhade’s gaze to be one of polite apology when she looked at him.
‘I’m assured,’ he said slowly, ‘that she’s not usually like this.’ He advanced, extending a hand. ‘Lieutenant Rhade, Hazard Team leader. You must be our new Strategic Operations Officer.’
‘Dathan,’ she said, and shook the rather sweaty hand.
He noticed and winced, pulling back. ‘My apologies. It was hard work in there, and I should certainly shower before the debrief. But I hope the lieutenant didn’t make you feel too unwelcome.’
‘I’m not expecting to be popular here, sent by an admiral to look over your shoulders.’
Rhade shook his head. ‘Tribal nonsense. We’re on the same side, here to stop these raiders and protect citizens. I’m sure we’ll benefit from your expertise in our hunt for these hunters.’
‘I would rather do my job without the crew treating me as an interloper.’
‘By all accounts, they’ve been through a lot; it seems to have made them wary of anyone who might disrupt the status quo. But I’m still finding my feet with them, myself.’ He gave a smile of pearly-white teeth, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling. ‘If I can be of any assistance as you acclimatise, please, let me know. Even if it’s for as little as being a friendly face that respects you’re here to do essential and difficult work.’
In the Terran Empire, nobody was that nice to her unless they wanted something, hiding their lies and agenda between smiles and courtesies. Even in Starfleet, officers had only been this polite when they were trying to ingratiate themselves with the admiral or wanted her to do them a favour. So while Dathan’s instinct was to balk at such open kindness from Rhade, she couldn’t fathom what a bridge officer and Hazard Team leader, whose personal and political prospects seemed perfectly stable already, might want from here.
It was her first spark of personal curiosity after so long in this turgid dimension. But she kept her smile in return polite. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant. I won’t keep you from your briefing.’
‘Or shower. I appreciate your tolerance there.’ The smile turned more jocular before he left.
Dathan Tahla, officer of the Terran Navy unit accidentally stranded in this dimension, assigned to espionage duties within Starfleet to comprehend and control their predicament, was perfectly prepared to be Mildly Disliked in her cover identity. But there was, she reflected as she watched Lieutenant Rhade leave, something to be said for encouraging kindness.
It was so much easier to exploit.
‘Coming up on the Talmiru System,’ Drake reported from the fore of the bridge.
Thawn, next to him, clicked her tongue. ‘Sending you the latest sensor telemetry, Helm. Local nav buoys and systems are down, so the USS Calder is issuing flight routes for new arrivals.’
Drake glanced at his console as the data scrawled in. ‘Yeah, screw that.’
‘With the local traffic and the systems being down -’
‘I can bring us in around some freighters,’ Drake interrupted.
Rourke sat forward. Usually Thawn was the one doing the snapping, but her criticisms had come in a level tone and she looked taken aback. ‘Status, Mr Drake?’
‘The Calder wants us on a roundabout route falling in with a bunch of what look like inbound supply convoys.’ Drake twisted back in his chair. ‘It’ll add twenty minutes to our ETA, and it’s not necessary.’
Valance glanced over. ‘The Calder was only first response. They may think we’re the main relief mission.’
Rourke sighed. ‘Lieutenant Lindgren, notify the Calder that we aren’t here to join the convoy, and advise them of Mr Drake’s flight route.’ He looked to Thawn and decided to play with fire. ‘Assuming the route isn’t in conflict with local traffic?’
She gave Drake a glance he thought was worried, but shook her head. ‘It’s safe, it just might disrupt local flight routes.’
‘Then make sure everyone knows our plan,’ Rourke reiterated, ‘and we’ll make up for it by putting that time we’ve saved to helping them.’
They dropped out of warp for the worlds of the Talmiru system to be nothing but bright dots on the viewscreen. From here, they could have been anywhere in the galaxy. From here, they wouldn’t have known the desolation that had befallen this place without their instruments.
That changed as they drew closer. The wreckage of a navigation buoy at the system’s edge floated past. A moon of the sixth planet, home to a mining base, was abuzz with worker drones struggling to repair key systems before a shaft collapsed entirely. The abandoned hulk of a freighter drifted in the vast space between worlds, a nearby beacon telling travellers to keep their distance.
But it was at Talmiru II, the colony deepest into Federation territory yet struck by the D’Ghor, that the true extent of the devastation could be seen. An orbital platform was a mass of wreckage, with only one shuttle assigned to its repair. Multiple civilian ships or their remains were adrift after the raid, and Rourke could see sparks as debris fell to the gravity pull of Talmiru II and burned in its atmosphere.
‘Updated casualty reports put the death toll from orbital bombardment at one hundred and eight,’ Airex reported dispassionately as new data scrolled across the Science console. ‘Landing parties inflicted a further sixty-three.’
The hush that fell on the bridge came with murmurs; a sound of shock from Thawn, an oath in Romulan from Kharth that Rourke suspected was unkind to Klingons in general and brought a fresh tension to Valance’s shoulders. Even Rourke caught himself murmuring, ‘Good God,’ before he could stop himself.
Lindgren’s interruption was welcome as her hand came down from her earpiece. ‘Sir, the USS Calder is hailing us.’
‘On screen.’
‘It’s good to see you, Endeavour.’ Vornasi, skipper of the USS Calder, looked tired as her face appeared before them. ‘We - and the colonists - could use the help down there.’
Rourke stood from the command chair, gaze flickering between his view of the Calder’s bridge and the data already scrolling onto his PADD from their scans. ‘I’m sorry to say we’re not the next relief mission, Calder. My orders are to track the D’Ghor ship that did this.’
Commander Vornasi’s eyes went guarded. ‘You’ll have your pick of D’Ghor ships in the sector, by all accounts.’
‘Apparently this one’s a Vor’cha.’
Vornasi shrugged. ‘That’s consistent with the records we’ve pulled from local traffic control. We can send that over and then you can be on your way.’
Rourke raised a hand and tried to make his smile appeasing. ‘My Chief of Security and my Strategic Operations Officer will welcome your assistance in gathering information on the attack. But we want to be thorough.’
‘My crew have plenty -’
‘Which means,’ he pressed, ‘while we’re here, my Medical department will coordinate with you for providing disaster relief. My CMO is a particular specialist. As part of the efforts coordinated by Task Force 86, my Engineering and Operations departments will also be reinforcing or establishing new system defences and emergency communication networks, so the colony can reliably call for aid in the case of another strike and withstand the raid until it arrives.’
‘This far from the border, now Starfleet’s on high-alert, people are in more need of certainty they’ll be fed tomorrow than sending a long-distance communication.’
‘And defensive and communications systems will need a reliable power grid and the means to be maintained,’ Rourke pointed out. ‘So of course my people will help with the infrastructure repairs. My hope is we won’t be here longer than two days, and if we get an immediate lead it’ll be less, but I’ll do everything I can.’
Vornasi sat back, relief visible across her mottled skin. ‘I’ll transmit to you our sensor data and our relief plan. My first officer is leading efforts from the surface. We look forward to the assistance, Captain. Calder out.’
Rourke tossed his PADD back on his command chair and turned to the bridge. ‘Alright, you heard me. Commander Valance, you’re running surface operations with Doctor Sadek, Commander Cortez, and Lieutenant Thawn. Lieutenant Kharth, the investigation here’s yours; call the shots.’ He caught Lieutenant Dathan’s expression pinch for just a heartbeat from her post at mission control, and ignored it.
But Kharth had been notified, and was ready. ‘Lieutenant Juarez will be leading security on the surface to assist relief efforts there, but his team will be available to help Counsellor Carraway, who’ll conduct interviews with colonists to see if we can glean anything from eye-witness accounts. Commander Airex, if you could work with Lieutenant Drake to find any sensor trace in this system of our target’s passing. Lieutenant Lindgren, there are a lot of ships here who would have been in the area at the attack; reach out to them for information and sensor records.’ She glanced back to Dathan. ‘We’ll start extracting what we can from local systems and the Calder and putting it all together.’
Lieutenant Rhade, stood to one side of the bridge with his hands behind his back, cleared his throat. ‘I’d appreciate access to any information, especially visual footage, on the ground combat activities of the D’Ghor as soon as it’s available.’
‘Good,’ said Rourke, partly wanting to forestall any further bicker in the struggles for power his security chief seemed prepared to incite. ‘You have your jobs, we’ve made these plans. Get to work. Lieutenant Rhade, until there’s something for your Hazard Team, the bridge is yours.’
Valance gave him a curious look as she stood. ‘Not to make accusations, Captain, but what are your plans?’
‘Once we have more information, I’ve no doubt I’m due a sit-down with Lieutenant Dathan about the wider strategic situation,’ he said, voice dropping as the bridge rumbled to a steady hum of activity. ‘But in the meantime, the Klingon Empire has been incredibly unforthcoming on the D’Ghor, so I’m going to reach out to Torkath and other contacts.’
She hesitated at that. ‘I can make similar attempts if you’re unsuccessful, sir.’
‘The more the merrier. After we’ve helped these people. I don’t care how urgent Beckett thinks this hunt is; until we’ve got an immediate lead, we have to focus on lives in actual and imminent risk.’
Valance looked predictably perturbed at his casual snipe at an admiral and their primary mission, but he took it as a sign of progress in their relationship that she let him grump without calling him on it. She left with the others spilling to transporter rooms, labs, and offices, and he turned as Lieutenant Rhade approached the centre.
‘So,’ said Rourke, ‘this is your first time in our big chair, Lieutenant. Few things to know.’
Rhade gave a serious frown. ‘Of course, sir.’
‘Do not,’ Rourke said seriously, ‘under any circumstances, change the elevation or tilt the back. I hate resetting it.’
Rhade passed that test with his level, deadpan, ‘As you say, captain; I’ll make sure the ship’s chiropractor knows who to blame at my next appointment,’ not missing a beat.
‘You get it.’ Rourke grinned and clasped his shoulder, which only made him feel like his progress keeping his bulk on the fitter end these days was positively flabby in comparison to Rhade’s muscles. He told himself the comfortable obfuscation that he was ten years older, and vowed to hit the gym after his talk with Torkath.
Once he was in his ready room, it took him longer than he would have liked to establish a subspace communication to the Vor’nak. He’d notified his old friend of his desire to speak, and still lingered for the better part of an hour waiting to be patched through the KDF’s subspace communication systems. When Torkath’s face did appear on the screen of his desk console, his sombre expression spoke volumes.
‘Matthew. I apologise for making you wait.’
‘Patience I have in spades,’ Rourke lied. ‘Is all well?’
Torkath’s expression flickered. ‘Matters at home are complex. But you did not go through all this effort to speak of such things.’
Rourke frowned, but decided to table that point for now. ‘You had my message. The D’Ghor are causing us trouble, and the Empire’s being slow to respond to our requests to share intel.’
‘Politics.’ Torkath shook his head. ‘The House of Lorkoth is embroiled at present with the House of Maghgath, who are eager to press their claims against the Gorn. This has occupied much of the High Command’s attention.’
‘I understand helping Starfleet might not be their highest priority; the question is when, not if we’ll rout the D’Ghor, and how much it’ll cost us,’ Rourke sighed. ‘But I’d hoped there’d be support against a mutual foe.’
Torkath’s lip curled. ‘My time is spent in my House’s territory. I cannot speak first-hand of what may be transpiring on Qo’noS.’
Rourke snorted. ‘Yes, yes, you can give me conjecture and I won’t measure it against your honour if you’re wrong, Torkath.’
‘There are some in the Empire who benefit from the chaos the D’Ghor wreak on both sides of the border.’
‘You think the House of Mo’Kai might be slowing down Starfleet’s request for intelligence?’ Rourke scowled. ‘Do you think they might be behind this sudden aggression from the D’Ghor?’
‘On that, I could not speak. Rumours persist of their cooperation, but they are like a Cob’lat and a Sabre Bear in the same burrow in winter.’
‘You’re going to have to translate that one.’
Torkath pondered this, then gestured with his hands. ‘The Cob’lat might - they bundle together for warmth, but then the spring comes and the Sabre Bear tries to eat the Cob’lat while the Cob’lat has collapsed the entrance to the burrow…’
‘I get the gist. They might work together, but they’ll also kill each other.’ Rourke sighed. ‘I expect there’s no insight you and I can whip up on the Mo’Kai in this situation that our superiors haven’t already thought of.’
‘Likely. But this call has not been for nothing.’ Torkath checked something off-screen. ‘You hunt Gaveq, son of Vornir. A brash child, but a dangerous one.’
‘You know him?’
‘Of him. The theft of that ship was an embarrassment for the House of Bah’Magh. Reportedly, Gaveq lured them into an ambush, then sacrificed his Bird-of-Prey to cripple the Kut’luch. His crew boarded and fought to the death, for they had nowhere they could retreat to.’ Torkath shrugged. ‘As I said, brash and dangerous.’
‘I’d appreciate it if you could send me anything you have on him.’
‘It is little. I will ask my contacts. But, Matthew.’ Torkath leaned forward. ‘The D’Ghor are not what you will expect. You are used to Klingons. Even the Mo’Kai have a sense of honour, twisted as it is. The Hunters have accepted their honour is lost, never to return. We struggle to predict them, because how can you anticipate the whims of the soulless?’
‘A little dramatic.’
‘They fight for the joy of it - not to revel in the glory of battle, but to brutalise and dishonour their foes, to bring them in humiliation to their level. If they are brutish enough, they believe that when they are condemned to Gre’thor they will stand on the necks of those weaker than them.’
‘Better to reign in hell,’ mused Rourke, ‘than serve in heaven.’
‘So it is,’ said Torkath, apparently better than Rourke at interpreting cultural phrases through context. ‘They do not fear death. No tactic is too low. The only thing that is certain is that they will seek you out for battle; but it will be on their terms, and may be for no reason beyond a blood-thirst.’
Rourke forced himself to smirk. ‘Worried?’
Torkath looked like he would stay serious, but then gave a bark of laughter. ‘I only wish I could be there with you. Back on the border, running down these petaQs.’ Still, he sobered. ‘Consider a bodyguard. I do not josh; you are a fine warrior, but we last sparred a decade ago and some young, strong warrior in a boarding party will want to make a prize of your teeth.’
‘I’ll warn my yeoman,’ Rourke said wryly; though his young Andorian aide could likely go toe-to-toe with a Klingon warrior, the thought of becoming a bodyguard would scandalise the ensign. ‘And otherwise I have Commander Valance to hand.’
‘Keep her close; I know she is an excellent fighter. But also keep her guarded.’ Torkath grimaced. ‘Hunters may target you as a prize. I do not know what humiliations they would wish to inflict on a half-Klingon.’
Rourke’s gut went cold. ‘I didn’t think of that.’
‘She will have.’ Torkath leaned back with a sigh. ‘I will press my contacts. In the meantime, keep your eyes and blades sharp, Matthew. Qapla’.’
Burdened with these revelations, Rourke sat for some time at his desk, thinking. But only when he reached for his console to bring up the full roster of his security department did he realise that Torkath had ended the conversation without explaining what troubles had delayed him, and clearly weighed on his mind.
He swore under his breath, but returned to work. He would deal with one Klingon crisis at a time.
At the outskirts of Venjest, Talmiru II’s heaviest-hit settlement, the Calder had set up a relief station of prefabricated structures and canvas canopies which had only grown over the ten hours since Endeavour’s arrival. When they’d arrived, they’d found a modest camp nestled in the lowlands of the green hills to the north of the racked and ruined town. Now it was a bustling village in its own right, sprawling down into the devastated settlement from which pockets of smoke still drifted into the clear skies. Valance’s body told her it was late afternoon, but it was sunset in summertime locally, so she’d made her hot drink a cup of tea.
The meeting with the Calder’s XO, a rather dour and unimaginative officer in her estimation, had been held outside. Dying rays of the setting sun bathed them in golden light, dazzling enough to obscure the reality of the devastated nearby town. She had not been able to give him what he wanted, and so ducked back inside the main prefab cabin that had become Endeavour’s de facto base camp to make it clear the conversation was over.
Lieutenant Juarez, Kharth’s deputy, raised an eyebrow at her expression. ‘Went as well as all that, huh?’ he drawled.
Juarez had been on Endeavour a few years, and a part of Valance had hoped she could make him Security Chief after Commander T’Sari’s death. But he’d been punching above his weight to make deputy on a Manticore at his age, and for all of her misgivings about Lieutenant Kharth, she had to recognise Juarez was not good enough at shutting up to run a Security department.
She put her steaming mug on the metal table that was the closest thing they had to a command and control centre. ‘The commander understandably would like us to allocate more resources to the housing rebuilding.’
‘Emergency shelters are in place,’ said Juarez, frowning. ‘Nobody’s gonna be sleeping rough tonight.’
‘But basic power is restored, so he thinks we should prioritise getting people back into their homes.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘I reminded him we want to repair the shield grid.’
Juarez looked like he was going to complain, but hopped to his feet and rolled his sleeves back down. ‘How about I bring my team down to some evening shifts patrolling the housing district? Make sure the homes are safe and nobody’s looting? Think that’ll get him off your back?’
That sounded like an excellent idea to Valance, and the burly Juarez left with a spring in his step even if he was committing his security team to long hours for very little purpose. Looting and chaos were always problems after a crisis, but the Calder’s arrival had restored basic order. Juarez’s officers could provide a deterrent for those tempted by abandoned housing, but Valance was much more concerned about threats to life and limb, present and future, than threats to property.
She sat at the table, head in her hands, and knew nothing until the door creaked open at a new arrival. When she looked up, blinking wearily, it was a lot darker outside and a rather worn Cortez was giving her a wry look. ‘Oh, you can snooze on the job?’
‘I didn’t…’ Valance straightened. ‘How long ago did Juarez leave?’
‘Juarez? Saw him in town three hours ago.’ But Cortez smirked a heartbeat later. ‘Nah, I passed him on my way up. Sunset’s just real fast round here. You okay? Where’s Thawn?’
‘Back aboard, checking our supplies for what we can allocate to help the Calder’s relief efforts until the main aid arrives in about three days.’ Valance rubbed her eyes. ‘The power plant?’
‘That’s why I’m up here. We’re going to need some major parts from Endeavour if we’re going to restore the output to a high enough level for the shield grid.’ Cortez pulled a PADD out of her jacket, set it down on the table, and brought up its projected display. ‘That’ll still leave planetary industrial replication operating at forty percent, which means there’s no way the afflicted regions can be fed without external supply shipments anyway.’
‘You’re saying that if Talmiru wants to protect itself from a second attack, it has to starve because of the infrastructural damage from the first raid?’
‘Either way, outside help has to come in. But it’s easier to send freighters with food than starships with phasers.’
‘Except then those freighters become targets,’ Valance groaned.
‘Which is why,’ said Cortez, flicking across files on her display, ‘I’m going to try to not just repair the reactor core, but upgrade it. If I can reinforce the exhaust plasma ports, then I can increase deuterium flow into the reaction chamber without overheating and forcing a shutdown. That’ll call for major work on the reaction chamber in ten to fourteen weeks, but that’s ten to fourteen weeks of Talmiru maybe protecting and feeding itself.’
Her gaze was intense, eyes dark as she brought up what Valance now saw were schematics for the fusion reactor in Talmiru’s main power plant. And now, a bit more awake, Valance could hear the edge in her voice, and think about the plans she was making. Valance stood. ‘That’s a week’s work, surely. We won’t be here that long.’
‘If I can get the process started,’ Cortez insisted, ‘and with enough tritanium supplies left behind, then the Calder or whoever takes over can pick it up.’
‘We’re ten hours into a project scheduled to last forty-eight, max. You still have to finish the basic repairs on the power plant and the array to get the shield working at all.’
‘Nineteen hours on one, nineteen hours on the other -’
‘And how much sleep?’
‘You think these people are getting sleep?’ Cortez slammed her palm on the table, and Valance straightened with surprise. ‘You’ve been sat in this damned cabin all day, while I’ve been working with people who got their families gunned down in the street and still showed up to walk me through their systems! I and my team can pull a few double shifts!’
Valance swallowed, a bitter taste in her mouth, but her voice came out as measured as she’d hoped when all she said was a firm, reprimanding, ‘Commander.’
As sudden as her anger had sparked, it faded. Cortez stepped back, scrubbing her face with her hands. ‘I’m sorry - ma’am. These people need more help than we can give them. I don’t like having to choose.’
‘Talmiru is not our primary mission,’ Valance reminded her, tone terse. ‘Repair the power plant and the array, and restore the shield grid. Provide the Calder and the civilian engineers with your proposal of the upgrades. We’re here to hunt the people who did this, and help Talmiru protect itself if any D’Ghor come back for more.’
Cortez sighed. ‘Deuterium supplies were depleted from the raid anyway, it was what the bastards targeted.’ She met her gaze, anger not yet depleted and so at risk of smothering any regret for the outburst. ‘We both know that if a Bird-of-Prey is smart and drops on the Calder from cloak, a California-class with its resources spread across the system is probably gonna get smeared anyway.’
It was true, and Valance suspected the Calder’s crew knew this. It helped explain their burning tension and resentment at Endeavour’s fleeting commitment to the planet. She considered pointing out that a second strike here was less likely than the Kut’luch moving on to fresh hunting grounds, but decided that she’d already pulled rank and didn’t need to justify mission priorities any further. ‘You have your orders.’
Now Cortez’s expression shut down. ‘Yeah. Yes, ma’am. I’ll confirm the requisition with Endeavour and get an ETA on that.’ She went to the door to the rear of the cabin and its mobile control systems, manned by Quartermaster Bekk, a Ferengi whom Valance hoped had not with his superior hearing heard their spat.
Valance decided it was time to swap from tea to coffee, and had just drained a too-hot, steaming mug by the time Cortez re-emerged. Valance barely looked up from her PADD, reports streaming in from Endeavour’s various deployed teams. ‘Requisition made, Commander?’
‘She’ll let me know.’ Cortez hesitated by the table. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You said.’ Valance kept her voice professional.
‘Come on, Karana -’
‘We’re at work.’ Even though they were alone, Valance remained cold and crisp as she finally looked up.
‘Are you trying to pretend there was nothing personal in that chat?’
‘Not from me.’
Cortez tossed her PADD onto the table. ‘Okay. It’s embarrassing the captain talked to you about us, it’s embarrassing our relationship has to go in our personal records, it’s embarrassing we’ve got to have sit-downs with Carraway. But, like, this?’ She gestured between them. ‘Navigating this is the exact thing we’re supposed to be doing. I wouldn’t have snapped at you like that if you were, say, the captain, or Airex. And that’s my bad, but surely we gotta work on this together?’
‘We can save it,’ said Valance, not liking how her own voice was growing tense, ‘for when this is over. You snapped at me. We returned to business. A discussion here and now isn’t professionally responsible, it’s us further derailing work with our personal affairs.’
There was a moment’s hesitation, then Cortez retrieved her PADD and straightened. ‘As you say, Commander. I’ll grab a supply pack and head down to the power station. We’ll likely string up some hammocks for a few hours’ rest between double shifts.’
Valance didn’t stop her as she moved about the supply containers, focus on the updates. Cortez found and stuffed a pack with what she needed, and was halfway to the door before the tightness in Valance’s chest was too much and, not looking up, she spoke. ‘I’ve stayed in here,’ she said, voice coming out with a grate she didn’t care for, ‘because I don’t think these people need to see a Klingon walking their streets.’
Cortez stopped at that, and out of the corner of Valance’s eye she saw her shoulders sag. After a heartbeat, Cortez dropped the pack to the floor and approached. ‘It was a crappy thing for me to say,’ she admitted with audible remorse. ‘We are making a difference out there. My team helped get the emergency shelter expanded. People are going to have hot meals and somewhere warm to sleep tonight. This time tomorrow they might be in their own homes.’ Cautiously she reached out, but Valance didn’t stop her, and she squeezed her shoulder. ‘We’ll talk back on the ship?’
Valance mused that this was probably something she’d need to discuss with Carraway later. How easy a professional dispute had taken a personal tinge under pressure. How viciously that had undermined her mood. And how greatly even a little reassurance and apology from Cortez went to soothing all that agitation, despite the matter being unresolved. ‘Try to make sure you get some sleep,’ she said, voice softer.
‘I’ve got a hammock. It’ll be fine.’ Cortez hesitated again, gaze flickering to the sealed door to Bekk’s control room. Deeming the coast clear, she leaned in for a quick, positively daring by their standards, peck on the temple, then dropped her voice to a mockery of a self-important growl. ‘See you tomorrow, Commander Valance.’
Valance rolled her eyes and Cortez laughed as she left, but the mood brightened. It was just as well. She’d have to go make herself miserable within a half-hour.
Doctor Sadek was found sat outside the additional medical relief tent her team from Endeavour had erected upon arrival. With dusk settled around the outskirts of the town, Valance had seen little of either the nearby rugged hills or the shattered remains of the settlement itself on her walk from their command centre. The medical section was between the base camp and town, just further out than the emergency housing, and looked set to be another part of the relief effort that would not stop for nightfall.
Only medical staff bustled around, and Valance - honest on her reason for being reclusive - was glad there were few civilians in sight. She expected most of them were in the tent. Sadek was perched on a supply crate, collar loosened, sleeves rolled up, smoking from a flashpipe, which earned a frown from Valance as she approached.
‘Unclench, Commander,’ said the doctor. ‘This is my break and when you’ve pulled a ten-hour shift setting up and conducting a disaster trauma operation, you’d smoke, too.’ She tapped the flashpipe’s cylinder. ‘Don’t worry, everything in here’s boring and harmless.’
Valance didn’t fancy picking another fight, let alone arguing with Doctor Sadek how to do her job, so stopped to lean against the next crate over. ‘How is it in there?’
‘The good news is that by arriving second, and several days after the attack, triage wasn’t the “choose who lives or who dies” kind,’ said Sadek with a fresh puff. ‘But a house collapsed on the north side, a district that hadn’t been cleared out or checked yet, so we did have emergencies come in. Lost two kids. Maybe twelve years old?’
Valance frowned. ‘I’m sorry.’
Sadek waved a hand. ‘Secondary incidents are a serious medical concern non-experts don’t often think about. Infrastructural failures, consequences of limited medical or food supplies… it’s not all immediate combat-based wounds.’
‘I imagine there’s been lots of those, though.’
‘Survivors from the fighting have a lot of injuries from bladed weapons. Limited medical supplies meant a few wounds had festered over the last few days. A few lost limbs.’ They were illuminated by a large lighting rig from high above, casting this beating heart of the medical setup in a bright ring. Sadek frowned at the edges of darkness. ‘Many of these blows were intentionally to wound, not kill. The only reason I won’t say “torture” is that conjures up the idea of something more systematic, more long-term. But make no mistake, Commander: the D’Ghor chased down innocents and when they were caught, if they lived or if they died, they suffered.’
Valance kept her expression schooled. ‘We’ll find them.’
‘That’s not really my concern. There’s never an end to people in the galaxy who want to hurt others. I spend my life alleviating that suffering. One patient at a time.’ Sadek twirled the flashpipe in her fingers and offered it. ‘Want some?’
‘Not my vice.’
‘I recommend one, you’ll live longer. Any idea how the hunt is going?’ Valance shook her head, and Sadek took a fresh puff. ‘Like I say. Not my concern, but I’d like as much notice as possible before we go. Matt will go spare if I tell him we have to delay because I’ve got to finish someone’s medical treatment. But I will.’
‘I would say I envy you, Doctor. There’s a simplicity to your approach.’
‘Except,’ said Sadek, voice still full of that wry, sing-song manner she brought to everything, ‘there’s all that suffering and death right in front of me I’m often powerless to stop?’
Valance let out a deep breath and looked up to the moons and stars gathering in the night-clad skies of Talmiru, the one thing in sight not smeared with the chaos the D’Ghor had sown. ‘Yes. Except for that.’
‘It’s quite unpleasant viewing,’ Carraway had warned them when he’d arrived in the CIC, fresh from the surface of Talmiru and his interviews with survivors of the D’Ghor’s raid.
Dathan had maintained her approach to Endeavour’s counsellor: pretending to listen while ignoring everything he had to say. It was a mark of the decadence of these worlds that they so valued a man who existed only to soothe feelings. He indulged their weaknesses, told them to turn their back on strength, encouraged them to expose their vulnerabilities to one another. In the guise of a Starfleet officer, Dathan had to pay Carraway a basic deference, but his words meant nothing to her.
To her mild surprise, Lieutenant Kharth looked similarly unimpressed by the warning as they played the footage from the surface. Carraway had recorded what he was permitted of the interviews, and provided notes elsewhere. Lieutenant Juarez, meanwhile, had plundered local security infrastructure for recordings of the attack itself. It was not a short briefing, the CIC’s projector showing the brutal attack in all its glory, the intimacy of recorded interviews magnified like a gross intrusion. Dathan had to recognise Carraway’s talent in the latter; while he took longer than she would have liked, he was effective in drawing out accounts of the D’Ghor’s activities, and had clearly edited out the irrelevant emotional sections.
She was not surprised when Kharth was the first to comment, halfway through footage of a pair of Klingon warriors dragging a woman screaming from a house to impale her on their blades. What surprised Dathan was the venom in Kharth’s mutter of, ‘Savages.’
‘Agreed,’ Dathan found herself murmuring. ‘I don’t see the point of this. Even in spreading chaos and fear, this lacks discipline or purpose. It’s wanton brutality. Barbaric.’
‘They appear,’ said Carraway, his disapproval gentle but audible, ‘to commit to dishonourable actions. The mass discommendation of the D’Ghor by the High Council makes them pariahs in Klingon society, even if individuals had committed no acts of dishonour. They are already denied Sto-vo-kor, and so adopt the practices of the most depraved and dishonourable figures of Klingon history.’
‘What’s their goal?’ said Dathan, pretending she cared. ‘They embrace villainy, but why? To punish those who exiled them? To find glory in infamy rather than honour?’
‘There are some theories that this monstrous display of strength will win them acclaim among the most damned of souls in Gre’thor,’ said Carraway. ‘But I don’t -’
‘They’re thugs, Counsellor,’ spat Kharth. ‘I’m not dismissing this fascinating social context for their actions. I understand they’re a product of complex Klingon hierarchies and rules. But it’s simple: they’ve been given permission, encouragement even, to indulge every vicious desire they have. There’s no complex justification, no heart of darkness for us to understand. Only bloodlust.’
Carraway shifted his feet. ‘I have to believe rational people -’
‘Sometimes rationally choose horrors,’ Kharth said flatly. ‘Klingon honour was invented to try to give structure and control to their base instincts, and the D’Ghor have thrown off those restraints.’
Dathan had spent enough years suppressing the last vestiges of the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance to recognise the brutality of Klingons. The violence of the D’Ghor surpassed even that, though it was not the scale of brutality that had given her pause. She’d seen worlds brought to heel under the reformed Empire, and enforcing fear was a necessary measure. But those who delighted in violence beyond all tactic or reason had won her disgust even in the ranks of the navy. It was a method, not a pleasure.
But she couldn’t say that. Instead, she lifted a hand and said, in a rather neutral voice, ‘The why matters only so far as it helps us anticipate their methods and tactics. But it’s evident we’re pursuing a group who will commit to wanton violence, which may make them unpredictable but it may also make them sloppy.’
Kharth grunted at that. ‘Sure. I’m going get a coffee. Then we draw up a map of their movements from when they landed; how directly they headed to the deuterium storage, how far they wandered. Try to develop a framework comparing their rampage to their tactical efficiency.’
She went to the side-office, leaving Dathan in the CIC with Carraway, who began to gather his PADDs. ‘I hope that was some use, Lieutenant.’
‘Of course,’ Dathan lied. She cared a lot more for Lieutenant Juarez’s recordings.
‘I’m going to head back to the surface. Try to help people work through what’s happened. If you want to talk, just drop me a comm.’ He gave a kindly smile at her bemused expression. ‘You’re studying an atrocity in detail. Secondary trauma’s a genuine problem, usually played down with -’
‘I think the people on the surface are the ones who’ve really suffered.’
‘Comments like that, yes.’ His gaze turned wry. ‘Once we leave, there’ll be no victims for me to help. Processing your feelings on what you’ve seen helps you be a better officer, Lieutenant. Recognising your emotions makes you better at separating them from your work.’
The very last thing Dathan was going to do was talk to a trained psychologist about her thoughts and feelings. But when she said, ‘I’ll try to make time,’ he looked both like he didn’t believe her, and like he wasn’t going to push the issue, and left the CIC with a polite farewell.
‘Is Counsellor Carraway not very popular?’ Dathan asked Kharth when the security chief came back.
Kharth frowned, clutching her steaming mug of coffee. ‘He’s nice.’
‘He gave me the impression he’s used to officers not wanting to talk to him. Professionally, I mean.’ She’d thought Starfleet would be bending over to discuss their feelings.
But Kharth snorted. ‘Show me the ship where everyone’s racing to pour their heart out to the counsellor? He knows he’s got an uphill battle and doesn’t push. Why, did he try to lure you into his office?’
‘He offered.’ Dathan paused. ‘He was very polite about it.’
‘Yeah, if you’re not sticking around, don’t let him guilt you into it.’
Dathan thought she heard the question as Kharth returned to the main display, summoning their maps of the town and the raid. ‘I’m not intending on this being a permanent assignment,’ she said.
Kharth harrumphed. ‘Gotta get back to a cushy desk job with Admiral Beckett?’
‘I feel I can do good there,’ said Dathan, because her cover demanded some defensiveness. ‘I’m surprised you don’t sound more grateful to him.’
Kharth froze at that, fingers hovering over the projector’s controls. ‘I’m perfectly grateful to the Admiral,’ she said at last. ‘But I’m satisfied to serve as a line officer. That’s where I do good.’
‘I know he can be difficult,’ said Dathan, not sure why she was saying such a thing at all. ‘I’ve worked with him long enough to notice. But it’s far, far safer and more convenient to stay on his good side.’
Kharth looked over at her, gaze level. That was the problem with Romulans, Dathan thought. Lying came second-nature to them. ‘I didn’t realise I was on his bad side.’
‘I think to be on his bad side, one needs to fail to do what he’s asked of you,’ Dathan said carefully. ‘To my knowledge, you’ve done no such thing, Lieutenant.’ She had very little interest, in truth, in the politics of Admiral Beckett controlling those he thought of as his creatures. He was too lax, as evidenced by the long leash on which he kept Captain Rourke and whose insolence he tolerated. Sending Kharth as his agent to Endeavour seemed pointless to Dathan’s eyes, and she suspected that was what unsettled the Romulan officer; lacking a clear motivation, it was assumed Beckett had grander intentions than he did. To Dathan’s eyes, he was just a small man who liked to demonstrate his power for the mere sake of it.
‘Well,’ grunted Kharth. ‘Let’s get on with this.’
Mapping the raid felt a lot more productive. Dathan hadn’t expected much professional satisfaction from this work; many of her duties under Beckett were like watching paint dry, manoeuvring people and resources to further goals for which she cared nothing. But identifying patterns and tactics of the D’Ghor, assembling the picture of how the crew of the Kut’luch operated, felt much more like her duties back home. There was a problem at hand, and a systematic approach meant she would assess it and understand it to find a solution.
‘They split their forces,’ she concluded at length, reaching to the display to highlight a route along the city map. ‘It looks like this contingent travelled relatively directly from the landing location, though they allowed themselves to get caught up in engagements en-route more than was strictly necessary.’
‘They are still Klingons,’ Kharth pointed out. ‘And the D’Ghor prize hand-to-hand combat. It wouldn’t be in their nature to bypass or shoot their way past opponents if they can pick a fight.’
‘But otherwise, they headed straight to the deuterium stores. The chaos came from landing parties who, while they certainly stole supplies, equipment, and valuables, seem to have simply… marauded.’ Dathan’s lip curled. ‘The kindest point I can make is that it gave the primary assault team cover.’
‘I doubt they thought that hard about it.’ Kharth sucked on her teeth. ‘I wonder to what extent this Gaveq has to provide opportunities like this to his warriors?’
‘You mean he could be more efficient, but opportunities for brutality keep his warriors happy and loyal?’ Dathan shrugged. ‘If that’s a significant part of how the D’Ghor maintain authority, that could explain the whole operation out here. The northern borders of the Empire are ready and protected from their raids. Could they have travelled so far just to target a relatively undefended Federation region for the primary purpose of satisfying their warriors?’
‘Clever tactics for an insurgency often involve making the most of small numbers,’ Kharth pointed out. ‘That’s antithetical to what the D’Ghor warriors want. So now they get to feed their bloodlust, likely pick a fight with Starfleet, and they can fade away as quickly as they came.’
‘It’s conjecture at this point.’ Dathan’s eyebrow quirked. ‘Would Captain Rourke look as unhappy with us as Counsellor Carraway did if we argue the D’Ghor are motivated primarily or exclusively by violence for violence’s sake?’
Kharth snorted. ‘The captain isn’t as ignorant of the reality. Commander Valance will act like we’ve personally insulted her, I expect.’
‘It’s bold,’ Dathan mused, ‘keeping a Klingon XO in such a mission.’
Kharth looked like she might say more, but the CIC doors slid open to admit the tall shape of Commander Airex. Dathan had not dealt with him at all yet, but found his reserved gaze even more withdrawn as he looked at them. ‘Lieutenants.’
Kharth’s back tensed in a rather telling manner. ‘Commander. Can we help you?’
‘On the contrary.’ Airex descended the steps to the central circle of the CIC. ‘I have something you may be interested in. It took Lieutenant Lindgren some time to gather data from every ship that bore witness to the Kut’luch attack, but I’ve concluded my analysis.’ He gestured to the holo-display. ‘May I?’
‘You could just tell us the end result,’ Kharth grumbled, but didn’t stop him.
He brought up the regional map, zoomed close to the Talmiru system, and uploaded a dataset that lit up multiple points in a vivid red. ‘Damage to the local infrastructure was so extensive that neither Lieutenant Drake nor I were satisfied with any conclusions on the Kut’luch’s heading when it departed. And these ships survived because they scattered, so many of them had only limited readings.’
‘If this story ends,’ said Kharth, ‘with you having inconclusive findings then I’d rather you didn’t waste our time -’
‘I’m getting to it,’ said Airex in a rather superior tone. ‘It took multiple composite sensor readings for us to put together their flight path, but we succeeded. And we have their heading.’ As the map lit up with a dotted line of the Kut’luch’s journey to and from the Talmiru system, he brought his hands away to draw the projection back, expanding to focus on this region of the Archanis sector. ‘With this heading, there are only so many realistic destinations.’
Kharth’s lips pursed. ‘You think they’re crossing the border?’
‘If they take a direct route, but it’s possible they’re curving to avoid this major trade lane,’ Dathan butted in, advancing to gesture accordingly.
‘Would they avoid such a tempting target?’
‘It could bog them down with minor engagements if their intention is to leave the area,’ she pressed.
‘Quite,’ said Airex. ‘I’m inclined to agree with Lieutenant Dathan, which is why this is what I theorise to be their flight route. You’ll see why.’ He swept a hand across the display to show the path.
Kharth let out a low whistle. ‘The Elgatis Refinery.’
‘The Elgatis Belt is a significant source of uridium, and the refinery is one of the largest industrial operations in the sector,’ said Airex primly.
‘A strike there would make a tempting target both for resources and for sowing chaos,’ Kharth mused.
‘Precisely my thinking.’
‘We’ll need to explore the alternatives,’ said Kharth, ‘if only to send word to nearby vessels to watch those routes, though I don’t know what good keeping an eye out for a cloaked ship is going to do. But I’ll tell the captain so we can start wrapping up planetside.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Good thinking, Commander.’
Airex merely gave an evasive shrug. Dathan tried to not roll her eyes at what she saw as feigned indifference, but Kharth didn’t seem to see through it, her gaze shutting down as she turned away to her notes.
‘It’s merely my job, Lieutenant,’ said Airex, not looking at her as he shut down the CIC’s display. ‘And I will be altogether more satisfied if it proves accurate.’
‘And I,’ said Kharth in a more taut voice, ‘will be satisfied once we’ve stopped these bastards.’
Valance watched with pursed lips as Drake brought Endeavour out of orbit of Talmiru II and set in the flight route for them to leave the system before going to warp. ‘I have to warn you, sir,’ she said to Rourke, voice low. ‘This lead is far from solid.’
‘I know.’ Once, he might have been defensive, might have assumed she didn’t think he’d factored uncertainty into his decision-making. Once, he probably would have been right. His tone was now both reassuring and making her a co-conspirator in his gamble. Maybe they were on a wild goose chase, but they would face it together, captain and first officer. His lips still curled wryly before he spoke on. ‘But if Airex and Kharth agree, surely this has already been argued about to hell and back?’
She just gave a diplomatic raise of the eyebrows, not because she thought he was wrong, but because Airex at Science was a little too close for her to mutter about her closest friend to the captain. She had to pick her battles.
Rourke looked to his left. ‘Elsa, how’s that alert to Elgatis coming along?’
‘The notification has been sent,’ said Lindgren. ‘There’s not much we can tell them other than a reminder they’re a potential priority target. I’ll alert you the moment we hear anything back.’ The hint of chiding in her voice gave the extra message: Asking over and over won’t bring word any faster.
‘Confirmation of our flight plan has gone to Starbase 27,’ Valance assured him. ‘As well as our dataset. It’s down to the fleet to decide if they want to prepare for the possibility the Kut’luch went somewhere else.’
‘We pursue as if this lead is hot,’ Rourke agreed. ‘Commander, put Alpha Shift down for more combat drills; from war games and historical records we should be able to piece together an ambush scenario from a cloaked Vor’cha class.’
‘As you say.’ Valance reached for her control panel. ‘Scheduling in a drill at 1000 hours tomorrow.’ He gave her a look she didn’t see often; he thought she should push the crew harder, and her eyebrows rose again. ‘Long shifts were pulled at Talmiru.’
He didn’t press the point, and returned to his ready room once they’d gone to warp. Valance understood his frustration; surely there was more they could do to prepare, instead of cast off in a direction and hope they were right. If not, they could be hours, days even further away from the Kut’luch before they realised their error, and the D’Ghor had a significant head start. Only the Kut’luch’s need for secrecy gave them an edge; even with a cloak the D’Ghor were best off staying far from direct flight paths or outposts, while Endeavour could travel at top cruising speed with all eyes in the sector feeding them information.
Starfleet service included moments of sheer terror, and Valance had no doubt a confrontation with the D’Ghor would count among those. But first came the rest of the bulk of Starfleet life: hours, days even, of monotony as they waited.
Despite this, she lingered on the bridge longer than her shift demanded. Rhade was up after her, and though the sturdy Betazoid had shown no sign of needing extra attention, she was dutiful in making sure he was prepared for one of his first command shifts. It meant she had to rush when she was done, hurrying to the turbolift and then down corridors, and when she shouldered into the lounge to see a pair of expectant eyes waiting at a far table, Valance knew in her heart she’d been putting this off.
‘How did a bridge shift over-run right now?’ said Cortez as she sat down across from her. ‘Is Rourke getting that obsessive with prep?’
‘Under the circumstances, it was better to be sure the handover to Lieutenant Rhade was thorough,’ said Valance, neither lying nor particularly answering the question. ‘I hope you weren’t waiting long.’
‘Fifteen minutes is fine. I’d like to sleep for a week after Talmiru, but I’ll take a solid six hours.’
Valance raised her eyebrows. ‘Six?’
‘Shifting back to a combat readiness footing. If I’d known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have let go of Lieutenant Terumbo. Now I’m left without an experienced pair of hands running Damage Control. Surveys and diplomacy missions let me go soft.’
‘I know what you’re thinking. Don’t,’ warned Valance. ‘I know Damage Control was where you cut your teeth. You’re the Chief Engineer, you can’t be everywhere at once; delegate.’
‘I am delegating,’ sighed Cortez. ‘It’s just that without Terumbo, I’m best off in a crisis handing the engine room over to Adupon while I run the emergency teams. Until I can clone myself, it plays to his strengths. Do you really want him doing engineering combat triage?’
Valance considered that unhappily. Lieutenant Adupon was the sort of engineer most-often described as ‘reliable,’ unless you were asking Cortez, in which case he was most-often described as ‘a miseryguts.’ He did his job come rain or shine, complaining all the way, stubborn and staunch in completing tasks. But he was not what anyone would call flexible. ‘We still need you well-rested. I doubt you got much sleep on Talmiru.’
‘I had a hammock.’
‘Did you use it?’
Cortez leaned forward. ‘Did you get much rest?’
Valance met her gaze, then glanced back across the busy lounge towards the bar and the replicators. ‘We should eat.’
‘Yeah, thought that might be the answer.’
It had been Valance’s suggestion they meet for dinner in the lounge. In theory this was a sensible idea when the ship was embroiled in a crisis; it kept their engagement short so they could keep on top of work and get the rest they needed without distractions. But Valance knew that wasn’t the only reason, because it kept their conversation light and irrelevant while they were in public.
Or at least, it meant Cortez was a lot slower to turn discussion to the points Valance had hoped they could leave on-ice. The fact there were multiple meant Valance was left in the unpleasant position of being relieved when Cortez started with, ‘So we said we’d talk about some stuff when we were back. Like you keeping out of sight on the surface.’
For once, her Klingon heritage was the topic she’d rather face. ‘It’s not that complicated,’ said Valance, and sort of meant it. ‘I was there to help. Reminding those people of the raiders who’d violated their homes and lives didn’t seem helpful.’
‘I’d believe that if you were completely at ease with Klingon… things.’
‘Things.’
Cortez made a face. ‘Come on. You hate being treated like you’re a Klingon. I’m not Carraway, I’m not trying to ascribe some sort of meaning to it. But now we’ve seen what the D’Ghor do. They kill indiscriminately, they fight for the pleasure of it. I’m not convinced their payout in the deuterium they stole particularly covers the resources spent to raid Talmiru. Either they’re so hell-bent for a fight that they’re bad at figuring out risk-reward, or the fight is the reward.’
‘I’m not the Klingon Whisperer.’
‘Didn’t say that. Didn’t ask you to account for all Klingons, or even explain the D’Ghor to me. Though your eyes kinda pinched when I called them killers.’ Cortez cocked her head. ‘You can have a better understanding of them than most without being The Klingon Officer like you fear.’
‘I understand my experience is an asset in this mission. That’s not the problem.’
‘Okay.’ Cortez thinned her lips. ‘Then you can have a better understanding of them without being like them.’
Valance hesitated. ‘Why would I be like them?’
‘Not for any damn rational explanation,’ Cortez allowed. ‘But they’re outsiders from Klingon society, and the last time we met outsiders like the Brethren, you found common cause with them and their principles.’
‘The Brethren are nothing like the D’Ghor.’
‘And neither are you, but you worry your Klingon side…’ Cortez hesitated at last, letting her point trail off. Valance tensed, because it seemed Cortez saw more than Valance had realised, understood more than she’d realised. But it looked like she was at least not going to say it, and with a sigh she stabbed her food with her fork. ‘I guess you can talk about it with Carraway next time. But he told me we should talk about stuff. I’m betting he said the same to you.’
‘Counsellor Carraway says many things.’ Valance’s chest tightened, because she knew such a clumsy evasion would get her nowhere. ‘But after what happened on the surface, we should make sure we’re being professional when we work together.’
Cortez grimaced. ‘I am sorry. It was rough down there, and I know it’s no excuse. But you gotta believe I wouldn’t have spoken like that if we weren’t in private. I figured we didn’t have to be a hundred percent professional a hundred percent of the time, and I guess I was wrong there.’ She put her fork down. ‘But that’s exactly the kinda thing we should talk about. Establish boundaries.’ She winced. ‘Define the relationship. ‘Cos so far it’s been a few months of drinks and dinner and hanging out, and I’ve been fine with that, happy to take it as it goes. But if we’re gonna manage this like professionals, we need to assess how casual this is or isn’t -’
‘What happened,’ said Valance before she could stop herself, ‘in your relationship on your last assignment?’
Cortez stopped dead at that. Her gaze flickered about the lounge, either checking nobody was listening or looking for an escape; either way she seemed to find no opportunity to shut the conversation down, and she drew a slow breath. ‘I guess scuttlebutt was always gonna get out, huh.’
‘Rumour mills do that,’ said Valance, deciding to not drop Rourke in it. That would be a distraction.
‘Okay.’ Cortez clasped her hands together on the table. ‘So I don’t know what you heard. But it’s the kind of story that’s real easy to sound real bad, so I’m gonna ask you let me explain properly.’
Valance nodded, but her back and shoulders were straightening almost despite herself, and she saw Cortez’s gaze tense as she noticed. ‘Go on.’
‘When I was working R&D at San Fran Shipyards, I was in a relationship with one of my team members. We’d met on an assignment years before, hooked up, were reunited, this time things got serious. Or so I thought.’ Cortez’s shoulders hunched in. ‘We’d been together a couple of years before I proposed. And… Aria turned me down. Basically said she wasn’t actually as invested. Which… sucked. I thought I’d screwed something up, that there was something wrong with me, and it drove me nuts - made me miserable - for months, because I couldn’t understand what had gone wrong, or why. And I’m an engineer.’ She attempted a dose of humour, but it came out flat.
Half of Valance screamed for her to reach out and offer comfort. Instead she kept her gaze level and said, ‘Go on.’
Cortez visibly grew smaller at that. ‘Long story short, one of my teammates got sick of my attitude and told me that Aria had actually been cheating on me. When I confronted her, she didn’t deny it. And… she refused to transfer off my team. Which was awful, and stressful, and I hated it - I had to see her every day and it was like she didn’t give a shit how much she’d hurt me.’ Now she swallowed, fighting against her own words. ‘I tried to get her to leave. To take a different assignment from our… pretty prestigious R&D team, which she understandably didn’t want to leave.’
Valance could hear Cortez forcing herself to sound sympathetic, and not mean it. She leaned forward, voice dropping. ‘You pressured her to move anyway?’
Cortez stiffened. ‘Hey, Personnel got involved, we had an informal conversation, and I didn’t get so much as a slap on the wrist for going, “maybe my ex-girlfriend who was a total ass could move to a different team.” It’s not like there weren’t different teams. But, yeah. If you were wondering why I went from serious R&D work in the heart of Starfleet to running the engine room on a border cutter like Endeavour, that was it. The transfer prospect came up while Personnel were still umming and ahhing. Aria wasn’t going nowhere. I bailed first. Not to get from trouble. To get away from her.’
‘But before you bailed,’ said Valance slowly, ‘you engaged a subordinate in a romantic relationship, and when the relationship broke down you tried to remove her from her professional position even though that would have an impact on her career, because you were uncomfortable?’
Cortez scowled. ‘Sure, if you want to pick the dickhead interpretation of what happened. The other side is that I got totally screwed over and the person responsible didn’t give me any space. It’s not like I was unreasonable for not wanting to work with her. I might have been her team leader, but I figure getting involved with a colleague is a joint responsibility to consider the impact on our duty. And she didn’t give a damn about hers.’
‘As the superior, it was your responsibility.’
Cortez’s jaw dropped. ‘After knowing me - getting involved with me - after the last few months, you’re really giving me so little benefit of the doubt? And you’re only bringing this up now, when this rumour had to have legs since the Azure Nebula, when we’re talking -’ Cortez stopped with a flash of realisation, and suddenly, Valance’s indignation was turned cold by a stab of guilt. Her voice dropped. ‘Mierda, are you picking a fight over this because now we’ve got to define our relationship and that’s scaring the hell out of you?’
Valance sat back as if stung. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘If you really wanted to talk about this, you wouldn’t bring this up here.’ Cortez cast a hand about the lounge, realisation turning slowly, but steadily, to anger. ‘You are the last person to want to talk delicate things in public. And you’re also the last person to leap to judgements, you’re like, glacial in your emotional conclusions. Hell.’ The last was spat as an indignant exclamation, and she pushed her chair back.
‘I don’t understand when I became the villain in this set piece,’ Valance lied.
‘I gave you plenty of space these past months.’ Cortez jabbed a finger at her. ‘I know you’re squirrelly about feelings, and I was so damn careful. Nothing public about our relationship to embarrass you, letting you set time commitments and the pace and all that, but the moment you might have to actually express something specific… Jesus.’ She shot to her feet, furious in a way Valance had only seen her a select few times, and each of those occasions had been her fault. ‘I’d say come find me when you want to be a grown up, but one: I’m not going to hold my breath for that, and two: Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to be less mad at you. You don’t get to ask my private business and then use it as a weapon to protect yourself. Hell with you.’
‘Isa…’ Valance’s effort to call her back was half-hearted, and she told herself it was because she didn’t want to make more of a scene than was already made by the Chief Engineer angrily abandoning a public dinner date with the XO.
But with a sinking feeling, she had to acknowledge that Cortez was mostly right. The only bit wrong was that Valance had expected to be the one storming off in indignation at Cortez’s past behaviour, safe from accusations of emotional cowardice. Safe from conversations which might require that elusive skill-set to which Carraway had referred: analysing her feelings and having the vocabulary to capture them. Because Karana Valance was much, much happier leaving that rock unturned, and everything that might be hidden underneath it out of sight.
‘It’s a night for the special wine?’ Rourke raised an eyebrow as Sadek waltzed into his quarters.
‘When is it not?’ said the doctor, immediately going for the bottle-opener on the dining table. ‘But here we are, the first night away from Talmiru, which means it’s unlikely we’re going to run into trouble just yet. So if it’s not now, it won’t be for weeks. Months.’
He frowned, leaning back on his seat as she poured two generous glasses. ‘You know I try to stick to synthehol when we’re in a combat zone.’
His Chief Medical Officer made a mocking expression and yapping gesture with her hand. ‘Big old tough captain, can’t handle a half-bottle -’
‘Are you peer-pressuring me into - fine.’ He clicked his tongue and reached for the glass. ‘To good hunting, preferably not for at least eighteen hours.’
‘Please. If we end up three bottles deep and a Vor’cha jumps on us, who’s got access to the detox hyposprays and a vested interest in covering this up?’
‘A fair point.’ Rourke gestured across the table. ‘Steak and kidney pud, veg, pile up and help yourself. I figured you’d want something hearty.’
‘You always go for heavy foods, Matt.’ But for once, Sadek kept her complaining to a minimum as they ate, and veered at once into a reminiscence of eateries they’d visited in years gone by.
So he watched and listened. Even after twenty years, it was hard to tell anything was out of the ordinary. Were he not a trained investigator, still he might not have noticed. The strained edge to her haughty indifference. The weariness to her gestures. The readiness with which she slugged back food and drink both. But he knew better than to interrupt, so they were mopping up gravy and draining the bottle into their glasses before he diverted from shuffling through anecdotes like a well-worn deck of cards.
‘How bad was Talmiru?’ Because while they knew to give each other distance, when that stopped, they didn’t piss around.
Sadek had another slug of wine. ‘Bad. The Calder team had it worse; they were on the scene within hours. Most people who were going to die of their wounds had by the time we arrived.’ She shook her head. ‘I know Klingons prefer to fight up close; I remember the campaigns against the Sovereignty. But that was battle. This was slaughter.’
‘Torkath sent me more records of D’Ghor activities,’ Rourke said gloomily. ‘Nothing immediately useful. But it paints a grim picture.’
‘I know we’re not supposed to dehumanise our opponents. Everyone’s a person, all that.’ She let out a slow breath. ‘But things like this make me wonder if Starfleet hasn’t been on to something the past fifteen years. There’s us, then there’s enemies.’
Rourke frowned. ‘It’s not that easy. Even if we had the resources, we can’t start shooting to kill at every Klingon warship that doesn’t immediately prove itself KDF.’
‘I’m not saying that. I’m saying this operation can’t end with us driving them into Klingon territory, then giving ourselves a pat on the back and going home.’ Sadek stood and went to his cabinet, investigating his supplies for more real wine. ‘I’m saying we need to call in our favours from the Empire and send hunting parties to scour these people from the face of the galaxy.’
‘That’d be a serious, long-term mobilisation,’ Rourke protested. ‘An expeditionary force that isn’t protecting borders -’
‘Wrong,’ said Sadek, brandishing a new bottle as she returned. ‘Resources diverted from deep-space exploration missions, or scientific surveys.’ She popped the cork. ‘Maybe it’s time we had more flying guns like Endeavour to put right a lot of the wrongs going on.’
His frown deepened. ‘This isn’t a dig, Aisha,’ he said carefully. ‘But it’s not like you, as a doctor, are the one who’ll be doing the fighting if we militarise -’
‘Crap, you got me,’ she scoffed. ‘I’ll just be stitching people back together when the fighting’s done. That’s obviously much easier.’ She poured herself a fresh glass. ‘And it’s obviously much worse than stitching back together the civilians - the children - who get carved up by these D’Ghor bastards while we’re waltzing around, star-struck by the wonders of the galaxy.’ She lifted the bottle over his glass, eyebrows questioning, and with a sigh he nodded for her to pour.
‘One step at a time,’ he said diplomatically. ‘Let’s start with these, particular bastards.’ It was the most he could say. He knew this wasn’t necessarily her true opinion, but also it was no time to bring in philosophy or ideology. Not when the blood on her hands had been only so recently scrubbed off.
* *
Even Adamant Rhade rocked at a back-slap from Chief Kowalski, his big, gruff second in command of the Hazard Team. ‘Good session, boss. We’ll get there.’
‘Sure,’ said T’Kalla, sat on the bench behind them as she pulled on the boots to her duty uniform. ‘Or we’re doing better without Kharth giving us crap for every little slip-up.’
Rhade hid his expression as he stashed his gear in his locker. ‘You say that, Chief. Your scores are up since she forced you to run those close-quarters firefight drills.’
T’Kalla grumbled as she subsided. ‘Didn’t say she was wrong.’
‘She’s mellowing,’ said Kowalski to Rhade’s relief. He was exactly the sort of NCO he liked to rely on in his teams; seasoned, patient, and reasonable. It wouldn’t do to let the Hazard Team, even only its senior members, develop too much bitterness against their admittedly-overbearing Chief of Security. But Rhade didn’t have many positive experiences to convince them. ‘You know she’d have called you on it in the field if she were there. Now she sees our mistakes, can’t correct them before we get hurt for them, so has to unload on us at the end.’
‘She has a good eye,’ Rhade said, closing his locker and turning back. ‘And I expect will be like this until we deploy successfully in the field without her, and prove you’ve moved out from under her skirts. The good news is this will likely be soon.’
T’Kalla grumbled a little more, but either accepted this or gave up arguing, and Rhade left them and the rest of the group in the Hazard Team’s facilities. Normally he’d have wound down with them, joined them for a drink in the lounge, but the high-alert status of their mission meant he’d clocked plenty of time with his new team. To the detriment of other interests.
Despite that, he found himself taking a short detour on his way to the turbolift. Rhade could claim he was only being polite to stop in at the CIC, but knew he was, to a small degree, procrastinating when he stepped in to greet Lieutenant Dathan, sat before sprawling projections even at this late hour.
‘Lieutenant. I thought I might find you here.’
Dathan straightened as if caught in the act, and he tilted his head with some surprise. She had appeared nothing but briskly officious, so he assumed her quite tired to show not only a splash of guilt, but indeed to be startled at all. Her shoulders dropped as she saw him. ‘Ah. Lieutenant Rhade. Can I help you?’
‘I won’t keep you; my shift just ended and I see you’re still hard at work.’ He padded down the steps to the CIC’s lower ring, joining her in the soft green light of the projected strategic map. ‘It was merely my intention to stop by when I was not immediately out of a training yard.’
‘I hope that is going… better?’
He gave a gentle smirk. With a fellow officer it was much easier to express his tensions at Kharth, especially when Dathan had experienced them for herself. ‘It goes. I hope you are likewise finding easier footing.’
‘Nothing bonds people like hunting pitiless Klingon pirates.’
‘Quite.’ His gaze flickered to the map, and he frowned. ‘This isn’t Archanis.’
Dathan hesitated. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘I was examining the ship’s records of past strategic campaigns to better understand the versatility of this modified CIC. As I’m familiar with the Wild Hunt operation, I thought it might be enlightening to assess how effective Endeavour was in analysing the campaign as it progressed.’
‘Another band of vicious and efficient pirates,’ Rhade sighed. ‘Without the D’Ghor’s explanation of a complex warrior culture or honour system to, not justify, but perhaps contextualise their behaviour.’ But she was watching him, level gaze assessing, and he glanced back. ‘Unless there is more to them I never heard of,’ he allowed.
‘Much is classified.’
‘Of course; I apologise for prying.’ He inclined his head. ‘I shan’t intrude any further, Lieutenant. I simply wanted to make sure you are well, and settling in.’
‘I am,’ she said, a little awkwardly. ‘And, ah, you too.’
‘We shall see. Perhaps lunch sometime? We can compare notes on how to best win the approval of this prickly crew.’ He kept his tone light, not wanting to overstep, but he sincerely felt that outsiders like them would do well to band together. Dathan had not given him the impression of much wanting to fit in, but it was polite to ask.
He was pleased when she gave a short nod. ‘Of course. Sometime. Good night, Lieutenant.’ He did not push. And now his procrastination was over, and it was time to do something he’d been putting off for over a week by now.
In his defence, it was a two-way street.
Rosara Thawn was slow to answer her door-chime, though he knew she was in her quarters. Perhaps she’d anticipated him; it would explain the guarded look in her eyes when he entered at the eventual summons, finding her sat at her desk and clearly still working even off-duty.
She stood. ‘Adamant.’
‘Rosara.’ Rhade hesitated, then cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. Such ancient courtesies of posture and tone were usually left on the sidelines in his service in Starfleet; the deferences and disciplines of Betazoid custom often made officers uncomfortable, which rather defeated their objective of giving respect. He knew he sometimes fell back on them when he was awkward, and if he was dealing with other Betazoids who would understand his cues. In this case, both were true. ‘I thought we should talk.’
‘I… yes.’ She turned to switch off her desk console, then moved to the centre of the room. Rather than this encouraging him, it left them both adrift between her work station or her comfortable seating, trapped between the formal and the personal. Though he thought she hadn’t meant to, it was deathly fitting. ‘I’m sorry, just right after you arrived we got the call to rally to the sector and I’ve been…’
‘Busy. We both have. Our duty is important; that’s always been the case, and I wouldn’t have dreamt of taking this assignment if I’d thought we’d be a distraction to one another.’ He shifted his feet. ‘But it’s best we talk about that, no? Serving on the same ship is the most time we’ll have spent together since…’
‘Ever.’ She wrung her hands together. ‘And I think this might be the first time we’ve ever spoken in private.’
Rhade blinked. She was correct. He attempted a small smile. ‘Somewhere on Betazed, my aunt is having palpitations.’ He was relieved at the faint giggle this elicited, and let his shoulders relax an iota. ‘I am under no pretenses, Rosara. We are effectively strangers to one another.’
She grew awkward again. ‘Yes.’
‘And I have no expectations of you,’ he added in a rush.
She cocked her head. ‘Except that you expect us to be married.’
His mouth was dry as he swallowed. ‘That is not - we are not -’ He stopped and tried to rally himself. ‘Tradition is hardly here to override your actual wants and desires, Rosara. But this arrangement was made because our families thought we would be a good match for each other. People who know us well and care for our happiness have observed and made this assessment. I’m not naive; of course a match between our families would be considered advantageous, but this is hardly only about politics.’ Again, he shifted his weight. ‘If it’s your desire to dissolve the arrangement -’
‘I didn’t say that,’ she blurted.
‘It could be done,’ Rhade rushed. ‘Of course. If that is what you want, of course I have no intention of going through with this if you feel pressured or obligated. That would be horrifying for us both.’ This was getting a bit more out of hand than he’d intended, and he drew a slow breath. ‘I thought that our serving together could be an opportunity.’
Thawn hesitated. ‘An opportunity?’
‘To get to know one another,’ he said slowly. ‘I am well aware that this arrangement is more of a… a suggestion.’ Ancestors of their honoured and noble bloodlines would be indignant at the choice of words, Rhade reflected, but traditions had to be flexible at the dawn of the twenty-fifth century. ‘But here we can learn about one another. Discover if we are a good match. Discover if the people who know us are right… or wrong. And by the time we part ways, be able to make a firm and informed decision on if we wish to continue the arrangement.’
She had been looking skittish, like he was in danger of cornering her, and his spine locked up at the idea that trying to discuss their future was making her feel trapped. But as he spoke she’d relaxed, and at last she nodded, biting her lower lip. ‘That sounds… sensible.’
‘Understand, even if we were to discover we’re madly in love, I have no intention of following through on the arrangement until I end service in Starfleet and return to Betazed,’ Rhade pressed on. ‘That’s a decade for us to live our lives and begin our careers and… make important decisions like this.’
‘I suppose there’s no rush.’
‘Quite.’ He braved another small, reassuring smile. ‘So if we are to get to know one another, and determine if we are friends or indifferent or soulmates… perhaps we can start with dinner?’
* *
The hiss of the turbolift doors jerked Valance from her weary reverie only because this was the graveyard shift, the last time anyone visited the bridge on irregular business. So she was still blinking when Airex eased onto the tertiary command chair to her left. ‘You’re not on-duty,’ she told him.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he admitted, keeping his voice low. The soft hum of activity absorbed the officers at their stations, most of them barely giving the tall Trill so much of a glance at his arrival. ‘I thought I’d extract our long-distance scans on the Elgatis Belt and run some further analysis.’
‘We’re still days out,’ Valance said, then shook her head. ‘If that’ll help you sleep.’
‘It’ll keep me busy.’ But he didn’t move. ‘You seem preoccupied.’
‘This mission is preoccupying.’
Airex hesitated. It was their custom, as close friends, to allow all emotional evasions to go unchallenged. The disruptions to their lives brought by the departure of Captain MacCallister had caused some upsetting disturbances to that status quo. In the end, all he said was, ‘I heard about your fight with Cortez.’ He winced at her flinch. ‘Doctor Sadek was in the lounge.’
‘So I assume the whole ship found out before I’d made it back to my office.’
He shifted his weight. ‘It sounds like it was unpleasant.’ But she didn’t answer, and after a moment he pulled out a PADD. ‘I have some concerns about calibrating our navigational deflectors to avoid agitating the raw uridium in the belt.’
Valance looked over with a frown. ‘You think that’s a problem?’
‘Modern deflector systems have a higher energy output than the hardware I expect the refinery crew to use,’ Airex said, flicking his PADD’s display to project it before them both. And as easy as that, their thoughts were both far from any pressing personal issues, and burying deep into the challenges ahead.
Compared to some situations, Klingon raiders were very simple.
* *
‘I’m just gonna say it.’ Kharth leaned heavily against the bar in the officers’ mess, a much smaller, less public, and less comfortable socialising spot than the main lounge. ‘You signed up for this.’
‘What,’ sighed Cortez, head in her hands. ‘Getting treated like dirt ‘cos she’s got problems?’
‘Hammering your head against an emotional wall ‘cos our XO would rather we think she’s made of ice than have a single feeling.’ Kharth reached for the bottle of tequila and topped up their glasses. ‘This stuff is awful.’
‘When this is over, I’ll get a real bottle. The synthehol is more burn than flavour.’
‘Then why are we doing this?’
‘Because I’m miserable and this is a social convention to make me feel less like ass,’ sighed Cortez. ‘Why do I gotta explain to everyone how to people?’ They clinked glasses and she threw back a shot. Even more for spirits, synthehol was slow to give anything but a faint buzz, so the appeal lay more than ever in the ritual of it all.
Kharth coughed before she pressed on. ‘I’m not exactly Valance’s biggest fan - or vice versa - so I’m not a great person to ask. Unless you want me to complain about her.’
‘We can complain. I’m mad. Complaining is great. Just don’t hit me with “I told you so,” ‘cos that don’t make me feel better.’
‘Okay. Then it’s crappy she’s stirring up your baggage to use against you, just so she doesn’t have to deal with her issues.’
‘Right?’ Cortez reached for the bottle again. ‘And I was so careful. I’m not an idiot, of course that woman’s like a cat on a hot tin roof with her feelings. I gave her space, I let her set the pace. Meeting up a couple times a week, that’s all we did the last few months.’
‘And she was concerned about you.’ Kharth waggled her finger, but it was time for another shot to interrupt her point. She took a moment to cough as it went back, and slammed the glass down. ‘After you got stabbed. That was all “I don’t know how to handle my worry so I’m going to yell at you as if you had control.” Take it from someone who knows.’
‘What is wrong with you all?’ Cortez threw her hands in the air. ‘You’re not gonna explode if you like someone. You’re not gonna fall over and die if you admit to wanting something.’
Kharth’s gaze levelled. ‘Not right away. But admitting that you want something? That’s making it so you’ve got something to lose. Admitting that you want someone? That’s giving them the power to take something - themselves - away from you.’
‘Okay, but - why is it you got no problem being openly mad about giving up some of your duties to Rhade and Dathan?’ Cortez leaned forward. ‘Isn’t that saying you had something to lose? Isn’t that giving them power, Rourke power?’
‘That’s different.’
‘Why?’
‘Because -’ Kharth stopped and scowled, gathering words. ‘There’s professional me, and then there’s just me. One of those is hardier than the other.’ She topped up their glasses. ‘Even if I am pretty mad at Rourke, and Rhade, and Dathan.’
‘I don’t know any other way to tell you that you had too much on your plate, that this is the best thing for everyone, and that it doesn’t reflect on you.’
‘And how would you feel if we brought in, I don’t know, a new power systems specialist who wasn’t part of your team, but completely outside of your oversight?’
‘Well, that’d be dumb, because it’s literally my specialisation - fine.’ Cortez shrugged. ‘Let’s say a transporters specialist. That means I’ve got more time to focus on things I’m better at, and things I care more about. Maybe even non-work things. But you’re not good at that.’
Kharth looked indignant. ‘I’m doing this, aren’t I?’
‘I dragged you out of Security by your heels ‘cos you need to unwind and I’m pissed off, but sure.’ Cortez jabbed a finger at her. ‘That’s why you and Karana don’t get on, by the way. You’re both really bad at living for things other than work, but she handles it with that wall of ice routine, and you handle it by being prickly as hell.’
‘I’m nothing like a -’ Kharth stopped herself, nostrils flaring. Then she drank, and after coughing, said, ‘Nope. That’s not fair. I’m not going to lump her in with all Klingons, or all Klingons in with the D’Ghor, just because they’re… monsters.’
Cortez reached for her shoulder. ‘You’ve got a really rough job, you know that? Engineering’s not all sunshine and daisies, but whether we’re fighting Klingons or pirates or war games, it’s much the same down in the engine room. You? You gotta look our baddies in the eye, and sometimes, that’s an abyss.’ She shrugged. ‘I got just a taste on the surface, and it was rotten. Rhade and even Dathan being here means you don’t have to face that on your own. ‘Cos I know you won’t talk about it with Carraway, or even properly with me.’
Kharth sighed. ‘It’s rotten that Valance is probably crazy about you but too frozen up inside to admit to it. You deserve better than waiting around for her to decide to have a single emotion.’
‘Yeah, well. I’m not waiting. I’m being mad about it and drinking.’ Cortez reached for the bottle. ‘Don’t think I didn’t miss you changing the subject, there.’
‘And what’re you going to do about it?’
‘Refill our drinks. And keep whinging about our personal lives like we’re not in the middle of a monster hunt.’
Drake slouched onto the empty turbolift early the next morning, coffee cup still in hand, and leaned against the bulkhead with his eyes shut. ‘Bridge.’ But before the doors could slide shut, a figure slipped in to join him, and one eye popped open for him to groan. ‘Oh.’
Thawn looked offended. ‘You could have held the lift.’
‘I didn’t see you.’ He shut his eyes again.
‘It’s not that early. It’s our regular shift.’
‘Didn’t sleep.’
‘Were you out late -’
His eyes shot open, though he didn’t straighten. ‘No. No, not when red alert could be called at any moment. Couldn’t drift off, that’s all.’
‘It’s all rather fraught,’ she allowed as the lift hummed to life on their journey. He could hear the edge in her voice, the tension he knew came from nerves. ‘There’s such a vicious savagery from these D’Ghor, I really can’t imagine what a fight with them will be like.’
‘It’ll be like every drill we ever did fighting Klingons,’ he muttered. ‘Except real.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘Can’t imagine why you couldn’t sleep well.’
She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean Rhade stopped by, didn’t he?’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘Oh. The rumour-mill is working over-time. We just had dinner.’
‘Scandalous.’
She went redder. ‘You brought it up.’
‘Wasn’t sure if you were going to keep pretending he doesn’t exist.’
Thawn looked at him at last, bewildered. ‘What’s gotten into you? Adamant and I are talking perfectly well, and he doesn’t need you to defend him.’
‘I wasn’t defending him,’ said Drake. ‘Not at all what I was driving at.’ But they reached the bridge then, and he could push past her, head for his station even if she was about to sit next to him. They were due another drill in a few hours, once the alpha shift was settled and had dealt with the business of the morning, and he wanted a lot more coffee down him before that.
Thawn was quiet at first. Not just with him; her greetings to Lindgren were clipped, and her reports to Rourke rather less loquacious than normal. He’d thought he’d earned himself a quiet morning, one where he could worry about preparing the navigational sensors for any challenges from the Elgatis Belt’s uridium deposits, but in the end he only got an hour.
She’d just returned to her station with a fresh cup of coffee, which under normal circumstances would have prompted a break in work for at least a small back and forth. But they’d not enjoyed normal circumstances in over a week now, and he could still feel the awkward tension radiating off her as she sat down. ‘Sorry, I didn’t ask if you wanted something.’
‘Already on my second mug,’ he grunted. He’d gone to get it fifteen minutes ago without a word to her, as she well knew.
At last that turned her anxiety to frustration. ‘Oh, come on, Drake. You can’t take out a bad night’s sleep on me all morning. How is this my fault?’
‘I didn’t say it was.’
‘You’re acting like I’ve personally wronged you.’
‘While normally that’s how you treat me?’
Thawn drew back, nose wrinkling. ‘I thought we were past all that.’
‘Yeah, well, me too.’ He had a swig of coffee.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Why are you suddenly so keen on chatting?’
From behind them, Rourke cleared his throat. ‘Something wrong, Lieutenants?’ They knew that tone; the ‘Drake and Thawn are bickering,’ tone, and normally it made him apologise and shut up.
Today it made him fume. As if this was something petty and minor. As if this was his fault. ‘We’re fine, sir,’ he said through gritted teeth. For once, that seemed to be enough to make Rourke back off - or, at least, he recognised this wasn’t their usual bicker with its usual resolutions.
But it took less than a minute for Thawn to lean towards him, now speaking in a hushed voice. ‘You are not fine,’ she insisted. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘You don’t get to be concerned about me like we’re friends,’ he retorted.
‘I thought that’s what we were.’
‘You got a weird way of showing it.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Had he been less tired, he might have kept it in, like he’d been doing all week. But it had been a long and sleepless night, and every push from her only raised his hackles more. ‘When,’ he spat, ‘were you going to tell me you were engaged?’
When she drew back, stunned, Drake thought he would give anything to get out of this conversation. He didn’t want to have said that, he didn’t want to talk about it with her, and he certainly didn’t want to do it on the bridge barely into his shift. So when the interruption came, for a split second he was relieved.
But only a split second. Because the interruption was a thudding impact of something exploding against Endeavour’s hull and sending them crashing out of warp.
He almost lost his seat. Alert klaxons went off, he had to grab the helm controls to stay upright, and calls of surprise and pain echoed around the bridge as others were less fortunate. Inertial dampeners fully-compensated a second later, and he could yank himself back to the console to see the disaster scrolling across his display.
‘Red Alert! Report!’ barked Rourke, clutching his armrest.
‘We, uh, hit something,’ Drake managed. ‘Dropped out of warp; regaining flight control. Nothing immediately on sensors.’
But Thawn had snapped more back to normal in a crisis, leaning over Ops. ‘Impact at Deck 7; it’s breached the hull and I think it hit the EPS mains in that section.’
‘Think?’ Valance asked.
‘Power systems are fluctuating, including internal diagnostics, I’m basing this off what limited data’s coming in and the fact that we would have power problems if we’ve lost a whole section of plasma conduits, sir.’ Thawn sounded unusually terse, even for a crisis, but Drake had to acknowledge that she was probably right.
‘Prioritise defensive systems,’ said Rourke, jaw tight. ‘Lieutenant Kharth, what’s out there? Did a cloaked Klingon ship try to hit us?’
‘Drake’s right, I’m seeing nothing,’ said Kharth. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere and I’m picking up nothing out there.’
Airex spoke up. ‘Detonation and impact matches that of a tricobalt device, Captain. I think we hit a mine.’
‘Starfleet doesn’t use mines, tricobalt or otherwise,’ said Valance.
‘Let’s assume this is a sign we’re on the Kut’luch’s tail and they left this for anyone following them,’ said Rourke. ‘That means there’s a high chance someone’s out there ready to fall on us while we’re reeling.’ He tapped the buttons on his armrest. ‘Bridge to Engineering.’
Nothing happened.
Lindgren’s hands ran across her console. ‘Ah, internal comms aren’t working properly; until Engineering can fix our power fluctuations I expect we’ll keep having systems problems…’
‘Uh, sir?’ Thawn’s voice was suddenly apprehensive again. ‘System reports are coming in, but we’re at risk of a cascading failure of our plasma conduits all along Deck 7. I’d… assume Commander Cortez is dispatching damage control teams…’
Rourke made a frustrated noise. ‘And if the D’Ghor jump us, they won’t take advantage of this to shoot us through our shields, they’ll board us. Commander Valance, go and take command of the situation below - I’m sure Cortez can handle it, but grab Security and make sure they’re making ready for an attack, and are ready to protect our damage control teams.’
Thawn spun in her chair. ‘Permission to go help Commander Valance coordinate, sir? Until our systems are operational again I’m not much use here.’
He shrugged. ‘Alright. Commander Airex, keep me posted on anything our sensors are telling us internally as well as externally.’ He looked up to Valance. ‘Keep the ship in one piece and get me my eyes back.’
The XO’s nod was stern. ‘We’ll do it, sir.’
‘We’ve got limited communication with Engineering,’ said Thawn as she followed Valance out of the turbolift onto Deck 7. The alert lighting pitched them into gloom, all around already embroiled in the controlled chaos of officers withdrawing from the damaged sections close to the hull breaches and compromised plasma conduits. ‘They’re fighting to keep the antimatter flow to the warp core stable.’
Valance’s throat was tight as she nodded. ‘Keep me posted. And see if you can contact Lieutenant Juarez or Lieutenant Rhade and get them to expand their security deployments to protect this section.’ They were sat on a disaster in the making, if it was even half as bad as she feared. The last thing they needed was for this to turn into a D’Ghor ambush with Klingon warriors boarding and attacking the emergency response teams.
‘Yes, sir!’ Thawn’s feet moved fast to keep up with Valance’s determined stride, but at least officers got out of the way of two senior staffers rushing towards the danger. ‘We should head for Section 7-G, Commander; impact and the breaches were aft of that.’
With their systems still reeling, Valance wasn’t sure what to expect. But a tricobalt mine of unknown yield breaching the hull and hitting an EPS mains in the middle of the ship was a recipe for serious immediate damage and untold further problems from unstable plasma conduits. And the closer they got to the section, the clearer it was that the damage was not insignificant.
The region Thawn directed them to had been an interior corridor, once, one of the main thoroughfares for foot traffic across the deck. The breach had blasted through the whole section to its starboard, making interior bulkheads now the only physical barrier between this stretch of the ship and the hard vacuum of space, emergency forcefields already gleaming on the left side of the hallways ahead. They had reached only the beginning of the damage, 7-G the last intact and secure section, and it spoke of how chaotic Engineering’s damage control had become that Petty Officer Koya, Endeavour’s Deck Boss, was running things from this junction.
The big, gruff Benzite looked up from her control panel as the two approached. ‘Don’t go any further, Commander; we’re pulling people back from these sections.’
Valance looked down the corridor, emergency lights barely gleaming through the dark and smoke, officers trickling back in their ones and twos. Her gaze flickered up to where from here she could bring down not just more emergency forcefields, but a heavy blast door. ‘Report.’
‘The impact was two sections down,’ Koya reeled off as Thawn joined her at the console. ‘Ruptured an EPS mains; didn’t cause any secondary explosions, but we’ve got plasma and radiation leaks. Damage control teams have been moving to fix it as we evac all other personnel.’
‘I don’t like these power levels,’ said Thawn, bringing up what diagnostics she could next to Koya. ‘Commander, if the plasma relays in this section go, they might damage emergency power systems and risk these vacuum-rated forcefields failing.’
‘Right now, the bulkheads are holding,’ said Koya. ‘But the lieutenant’s right, if something goes, I don’t want to rely on emergency forcefields.’
Valance’s jaw set. ‘Any idea how many crew are in the damaged sections?’ Koya shook her head. ‘Try to get me an estimation or a life-signs scan; as soon as everyone’s out, we’ll bring down the blast doors.’
Thawn’s breath caught. ‘That’s a good idea, Commander,’ she said, like something further and unpleasant had struck her. ‘And sooner is better -’
‘Commander!’ Out of the smoke came a trio of figures, engineers coughing and sputtering as they reached the junction. The burly Tellarite Baranel was at the head of them, sleeve across his stubby nose, but he was recovering quicker than his human colleagues. ‘We need more hands; it’s rough back there.’
Valance frowned at him. ‘I need more than “rough.” Who’s running damage control in this section?’
Baranel’s arm dropped and he looked around the officers gathered in the smoky gloom, silhouetted against emergency lighting. ‘Chief’s not back?’ Koya shook her head.
The bottom of Valance’s stomach dropped out. Thawn said something, insistent, but she couldn’t hear her as she stared at Baranel. ‘Commander Cortez is back there?’
Baranel coughed and nodded. ‘Took over damage control while Adupon’s in engineering. We were trying to reroute the plasma conduits away from this section in case of another breach, or we could lose the whole deck. The teams split off to each conduit junction but we’ve got leaks; some sections are too dangerous for us to get in there. We lost track of her and had to get out.’
‘Commander!’ That was Thawn, who looked pale when Valance’s head snapped around. ‘Not all of these conduits have been rerouted and I’m picking up a surge in conduit 7-G-24. Pressure levels are rising and we’re critically close to a breach.’
Koya swore as she looked at Thawn’s display. ‘That’ll rupture the plasma conduits along two sections and punch right through the bulkheads, maybe even the emergency emitters even if they keep power…’
‘Right.’ Baranel squared his shoulders and turned back to the two engineers. ‘We’re going to get the Chief, so put your lungs back in.’
Thawn made a small squeak. ‘You’ve got a narrow window,’ she said. ‘But maybe from here I can try to increase the safety forcefields around that section; it might hold for a little more time if there’s a breach.’
‘You heard her,’ said Baranel. ‘Let’s -’
‘Belay that.’ Valance’s mouth tasted like carpet as she dragged her eyes from the display on Thawn’s panel to the trio of engineers. ‘Pressure levels are far too high; we can’t send anyone in.’ Her gaze flickered to the dark, smoky corridor ahead, and even against the blazing of emergency lighting, she couldn’t see any signs of movement. Of people.
Baranel rounded on her. ‘If there are people trapped behind busted doors, or injured, and can’t get out -’
Valance ignored him, looking at Thawn. ‘Lieutenant, how long until pressure levels are high enough to cause a breach?’
‘I…’ Thawn looked wildly between Valance and Baranel. ‘Twenty seconds?’
When this had started, her stomach had been trying to wrap around her throat. Now, when Valance looked inside herself, there was absolutely nothing there but the cold. Her gaze again went past Thawn to the display. ‘A generous estimation. Petty Officer Koya, bring down the emergency bulkheads in ten seconds.’
Thawn went paler. Koya’s expression went blank as she nodded, and reached for the controls. But Baranel burst forward, planting himself between Valance and the corridor. ‘What the hell, Commander? There are people -’
‘Here, in safety, and a conduit overloading might not only cause a hull breach, but could vent plasma through this entire section, and it could happen at any moment.’ Valance’s voice was utterly flat, and with one hand she reached out to push Baranel aside. She barely felt the big Tellarite move, and didn’t so much as look at him, gaze still locked on the long stretch of dark corridor. There was still no movement.
Then she saw nothing more as the emergency bulkhead came down. And whatever was frozen inside Valance twisted.
‘Lieutenant Thawn,’ she said, her voice not sounding like her own, cold and steady and as if it were coming from far away. ‘Notify the bridge of this secondary explosion, if you can. Everyone else, I recommend you brace.’
‘Done,’ said Thawn, who also sounded like she’d shoved whatever fear or horror she felt into a small box. ‘Pressure levels are critical, it’ll rupture at any moment.’
Baranel’s words were a low rumble. Valance thought they might have been a prayer. But nobody else spoke, the silence filled by the creaking of bulkheads, the distant hum of crew heading to the evac points, the dull drone of low-level emergency klaxons. Time felt like it stretched for an eternity, but she told herself it could only be seconds, because at any moment there would be a rupture, taking out another section of the ship, the crew beyond, and -
‘Commander?’ Thawn sounded confused, and she realised that almost half a minute had passed. ‘Pressure levels are - are dropping.’
As Valance whirled around, Koya was at the console again. ‘Confirming that; looks like the plasma flow has been rerouted to the stable conduits along 7-H-23.’
‘Ship-wide power levels are stabilising, too -’ Thawn hesitated. ‘Bridge confirming the EPS conduits are functioning within safety parameters and systems are coming back online.’
Then Baranel’s combadge chirruped, words sputtering through. ‘Cortez to… -nel, come in, team.’
The Tellarite’s eyes widened, though he notably didn’t look at Valance as he tapped his combadge. ‘Baranel here. Good to hear your voice, Chief, what happened?’
‘Y’know. Rerouted a whole system of conduits in a maintenance room next to a chamber flooded with plasma at over a hundred degrees. Maybe. Didn’t bring my thermometer.’ Cortez’s voice sounded either forcibly jaunty, or light-headed. ‘Think I got the pressure under control.’
Baranel did now look at Valance, albeit briefly. ‘Yeah, Chief - you stopped the whole section from blowing…’
Valance turned away, back to Koya. ‘Get the bulkhead up. Lieutenant Thawn, get a medical team to this section and take command.’
Thawn hesitated. ‘I… yes, Commander. What are you…’
‘I’ll check in with security and the bridge,’ she said, forcing the voices of Baranel and Cortez from behind her into oblivion, for all she could care or handle it. Beside her, the emergency bulkhead began to shudder up with a creaking groan, and within a heartbeat a coughing, sputtering officer had ducked out from under it to be grabbed and helped by one of Baranel’s team. She swallowed hard. ‘Good work, everyone. Keep the bridge posted.’
She didn’t look back as she left. She didn’t need to; behind her she could hear Thawn tentatively assuming command to restore stability to the section, hear Koya calling in medical support, hear Baranel and his people helping the trickle of officers emerging from where they’d been stuck behind the emergency bulkhead. Not many - three, four, but there might be more, more of them she’d left trapped for the good of the ship.
Left to die.
Rourke let out a slow breath of relief as the bridge’s full lighting came back on. ‘Commander Airex, are our power levels stabilising?’
After a moment, the tall Trill nodded. ‘Yes, sir. It looks like an engineering team rerouted the plasma flow so we’ve got no bleed at the damaged array. We’ll still need to vent those sections before we can restore access and get those hull breaches repaired.’
‘Lieutenant Kharth, now our eyes are better: are we still alone out there?’
Kharth was quieter for longer, but he respected her double-checking her work. ‘Still no sign of company. If someone’s cloaked out there waiting for us to stumble on a mine, then they’ve waited way past their optimal window for an ambush. Combat systems are stable, sir, we’re no longer limping.’
‘Why,’ said Drake at helm, ‘would you drop a mine then not hang around to finish us off?’
‘If this hit something like the Calder,’ said Kharth, ‘it’d send them back to drydock, if not needing rescue. It’s a nasty weapon.’
‘Not to mention,’ added Airex, ‘had Engineering not avoided that secondary explosion, we might have just lost half a deck and crippled our power systems. That would have put us in a similar spot.’
‘It’s a good question, though,’ said Rourke. ‘D’Ghor don’t want to stop people from following them. They want to kill us themselves. If we’re clear of danger, Lieutenant Kharth, take a look at what data we have on that mine. Lieutenant Drake, see if there are any others out there before we move anywhere.’
‘I’ve been looking,’ he insisted. ‘But seems clear even with my sensors working properly.’
Kharth leaned forward. ‘Nothing about the explosion or the limited data we have before we were hit suggests this wasn’t a mine of Klingon design. Anything more will take time.’
Rourke nodded. Then he paused. ‘We saw this coming?’
‘It appeared as an anomaly on nav sensors five seconds before impact,’ said Kharth.
He stared at Drake, who looked back like a deer caught in the headlights. ‘Is there a reason,’ Rourke said, his gut twisting with fire, ‘this anomaly was overlooked, Lieutenant?’ Was it, perhaps, because you were too busy bickering with Thawn to do your bloody job?
But before Drake could answer, Lindgren piped up. ‘Sir! Now comms are back up, I’m picking up a nearby transmission. Just a signal pulse, and I think it only started at our impact.’
Rourke looked over, frowning. ‘Source?’
‘A nearby location; patching it through to Tactical.’
Kharth took a moment to read, then frowned. ‘Looks like a messaging buoy, Klingon design. Sir, I think whoever left the mine left this in proximity, programmed to transmit upon detonation.’
‘Does it have a destination? Or is this just an open transmission?’
‘A very specific, low-range frequency, but no, sir, it’s not connecting with anyone directly. But even from light-years away, someone who knew to look for it would spot it.’ Kharth looked up. ‘Whoever left this mine probably didn’t leave it just to do damage to anyone following, but to make sure they knew we were following.’
Rourke leaned back on the command chair. ‘Alright,’ he said at length. ‘Go to yellow alert, and stand down anti-boarding security teams. Lieutenant Drake, Lieutenant Kharth, can you find us a stellar body to slink to, something to slightly mask our presence while we let Engineering do their work?’
It took another couple of hours before they were both safely obscured and had any assessment of the situation. Kharth brought the Klingon buoy aboard, but expressed no optimism in learning much useful about it. Eventually Cortez sent up an assessment of the damage, and Rourke would have liked very much to turn them around and return to drydock for a few days with the repairs that were needed. Instead, all he could give his team was twenty-four hours before they were underway again.
He was still stewing about that when Thawn made it back to the bridge, weary and worn, and that made it altogether too easy for him to glare at her upon arrival. But his Operations Officer, normally so sensitive to such moods from superiors, didn’t seem to notice as she approached, pale and wringing her hands together.
His frown shifted. ‘What is it, Lieutenant?’
Her gaze flickered to the empty XO’s chair, then back again, and she drew an anxious breath. ‘I should talk to you, sir,’ she said, voice wavering and too quiet for anyone else to hear. ‘About something that happened below with Commander Valance.’
* *
She didn’t know how long she’d been sat in the dark.
Once comms were restored, the order had come to stand down internal security. A quick consultation with Thawn made it clear the repair work was under control. So Valance had intended to go back to her office and take stock of the whole crisis response for future improvements. While power failures had made monitoring Engineering and Security’s activities at the time all-but impossible, by checking system records she could now see what had happened when, where, and what had been done about it how quickly.
She got no more than five minutes in before she’d gone to her office’s bathroom to throw up. Once there, it had been so easy to sink to the deck, slump against the cool metal bulkhead, and kill the lights until everything stopped spinning.
It hadn’t stopped by the time she heard footsteps in her office, and despite her best effort, Valance could only look up blearily to see a silhouetted figure in the bathroom door.
‘Commander.’
Instincts told her to snap upright and reassert control. Her rational mind pointed out she couldn’t exactly hide her current state. Neither prevailed, because the icy cold inside her had thawed to become a gnawing blackness consuming any decisions. She pressed her palms to her temples, and her voice came out like sandpaper. ‘Captain.’
Rourke stepped in, his bulk filling the rest of the small bathroom. But he slid down to sit in the dark across from her, back to the sink, and for a long time he didn’t say anything. When he did speak, he was quieter, gentler even, than she’d ever heard him. ‘Thawn told me what happened.’
Valance swallowed bile. ‘I was going to send a full report and assessment -’
‘At 7-G.’
She didn’t know why she’d tried to obfuscate. Of course he’d heard. But she didn’t know what to say, either, and just shut her eyes.
‘When I say your management of that situation was textbook, that’s not a backhanded compliment,’ Rourke continued softly. ‘Without emergency blast doors down, a detonation could have flooded the deck with plasma or exposed the section to the vacuum. With the fluctuations in our power grid, you couldn’t rely on forcefields. If they’d been slow to raise or dropped for even a few seconds, it would have been catastrophic.’
‘Four people trapped inside made it as far as the doors. But I’d sealed them in.’
‘That plasma conduit could have breached any moment after you closed the doors. If it had, they’d have died because of the D’Ghor. Not you. Everyone at 7-H and forward who survived it would have owed you their lives. You couldn’t control what would happen with the breach. You could only manage the risk. You did your job, Commander.’ Rourke hesitated, then added, ‘And I have some idea what a personal nightmare it was.’
‘You didn’t -’ While finally she felt something, the words surging forward with disgust, her mouth was too dry to spit them out. She had to again swallow that acrid taste and try again, hoarser. ‘You didn’t condemn your Firebrand crew to death. Not even Commander Winters.’ She’d had to do some reading around that, and was glad if only so she hadn’t been indignant when he’d brought up her relationship as a matter of professional interest; he’d undergone the same scrutiny himself.
‘No,’ Rourke sighed. ‘No, I was a helpless observer. You must feel like an active participant. Even if it was the right thing to do.’
Neither of them spoke for a while, sitting together in the cool dark. But the spinning in Valance’s head was stopping, Rourke’s big, quiet presence a stabling anchor, and after what felt like a lifetime she managed to croak, ‘I was afraid of getting involved with a colleague because of things like this. I was afraid that it would compromise my professional judgement. That if a situation like this came up, I’d hesitate and get people killed.’ She dragged her hands down across her face. ‘Now it’s happened, I’m disgusted with myself that I didn’t hesitate.’
Rourke was quiet for a moment. Then, ‘You get how that’s a trap you set yourself, right?’
‘I left Isa in there to die -’
‘There was nothing you could do to affect if Cortez got out before the conduit breached. Even if you had magic precognition and could bring the emergency bulkhead down at the last literal second, it still wouldn’t have been enough, because she was at the conduit trying to fix it and would have died first if she’d failed.’
‘I didn’t know that -’
‘So here you go again, telling yourself you had control over everything, because believing that and blaming yourself is more comfortable than accepting you were powerless.’ He let that sink in for a beat. ‘Except where you had control, you made the right choices.’
Valance slumped, hands sinking to her knees, what little fight she had left seeping out. She did not yet open her eyes. ‘I thought I was locking her in there to die,’ she said at length, unable to summon any more arguments she could claim were based on rationality.
She felt Rourke’s hand come to not take hers, but rest atop it, somehow both awkward and yet companionable. When she opened her eyes, the room felt less cold and the captain was watching her, gaze wary.
‘No more ways for me to slice that,’ he rumbled. ‘That’s fucking awful. And I’m so sorry you went through it.’
The accurate simplicity stirred a rueful chuckle in her gut, and she rested her head back to stare at the ceiling. ‘Why do we do this job? Wear these red uniforms?’
‘I could talk about duty,’ Rourke sighed, sounding rather wry himself. ‘But we both know it’s simpler than that. It’s just in our bones, isn’t it? To step up when others won’t?’
She gave another low chuckle, and when that subsided she felt a little more like herself. She looked at him. ‘You didn’t have to come down here, sir.’
‘Yeah, I did. You’re my XO,’ he said simply. ‘And seeing as that makes your wellbeing my responsibility, you’re off-duty the next twenty-four hours.’
The indignation was comforting. It felt like a normal emotion. That didn’t mean it was welcome, and Valance frowned. ‘Sir, I’m capable -’
‘We’re taking the day to repair. You should, too. I’m not letting you do an after action report on this; Thawn will do it. Airex can step up to help with that and your bridge duties, and we have Rhade now to support.’ He shook his head. ‘This isn’t up for debate. I don’t want you hiding your feelings in your work, I want you managing yourself so when our next action happens - and it will happen - you can work.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I’d take Cortez off as well, but at the moment, a Chief Engineer’s more valuable than you.’
‘We need a new Damage Control Team Leader,’ Valance said, as if that was the most important thing right now. ‘The Chief Engineer shouldn’t have to run point on emergencies like that.’
Rourke’s expression creased with an amused fondness she wasn’t used to and didn’t know how to react to. But he nodded and got to his feet, and offered her a helping hand up. ‘If that’s what it’ll take to make you go back to your quarters and rest, Commander, I’ll yell at Personnel as soon as I can.’
He didn’t say what she suspected they were both thinking: that if Isa Cortez hadn’t run point on Endeavour’s latest crisis, they would probably have lost a lot more people.
Her skin still itched where Doctor Sadek had repaired the burns. ‘Another minute or so in that maintenance hatch,’ the doctor had scolded, ‘and you’d have been in danger of your organs shutting down.’
‘Another minute and I’d have been incinerated by that conduit blowing,’ she’d pointed out.
‘That’s a fair point,’ Sadek had allowed. ‘I don’t think my dermal regenerator would have helped with that.’
It was a mixed fortune that Cortez had got through this crucible with only light injuries. The experience had been harrowing enough, but it only took one visit to sickbay before she was sufficiently fighting fit again, crawling with her teams all over Endeavour to repair the damage done by the mine. She’d slept in her office, completely untethered from a formal shift pattern to know day from night, and dragged herself to a senior staff meeting feeling like shit warmed up.
Carraway trying to intercept her on the way into the conference room was not a good sign. ‘How’re you feeling, Isa?’
Isa Cortez was not irritable by nature, but there was something exhausting about his kind smile in that moment. ‘Are you a cup of coffee, Greg? That’s about all I got time to stop for.’
‘Oh, so, we definitely need to talk.’
‘Sure. When the ship’s not falling apart.’
Carraway winced. ‘I’d rather do this before you collapse.’
But that was when Kharth arrived at the door, and gave Cortez a pat on the shoulder that was half-backslap, half comradely-clasp. ‘How’re you holding up with all those heroics, hero?’
‘See?’ Cortez said to Carraway. ‘That’s the kind of moral support that gets me through the day.’
Normally, someone as empathetic as Cortez was particularly vulnerable to Carraway’s aura of Gentle Disappointment. She didn’t tend to incur it, also normally being quite low on the counsellor’s priority list, and usually happy to talk. But she was too exhausted for his judgement to make it onto her list of concerns, and genuinely too busy to slot him in. If she was going to talk about her feelings, he was not her first port of call.
The senior staff meeting was not that long. Cortez kept her head down for most of it, and tried to not look at Valance’s empty chair. The Elgatis Refinery had assured them they would send word if the D’Ghor arrived, while Kharth’s examination of the buoy presumably left behind by the Kut’luch suggested their quarry was not all that far ahead of them.
‘This was only left here three days before we arrived, approximately,’ she concluded. ‘That and its Klingon make are all I can tell you for sure.’
‘They should be more ahead of us, based on when they left Talmiru,’ Drake pointed out. ‘And already at Elgatis if that was their heading.’
‘It is possible they slowed their pace to avoid detection,’ said Airex. ‘If they wanted to pass through the region leaving absolutely no trace to even the most scrupulous of scans, their cloak would be most effective if they kept to a low warp factor.’
‘People who want to keep that hidden don’t leave mines and comms buoys behind them,’ argued Drake.
Dathan spoke up, voice low and firm. ‘From here, they could likely detect our arrival at Talmiru. We arrived at high speed and are the most powerful ship to arrive yet in the system. Even with long-range scans they would have been able to tell we were a Starfleet response of an order of magnitude larger than anything else on the scene.’
Rourke looked at her. ‘You think they were waiting to be sure they had enough of Starfleet’s attention?’
Kharth clicked her tongue. ‘They can’t have many mines like this. It wouldn’t be too wild to suppose they want a fight with Starfleet, so they’ve made sure they’ve picked one, then dropped this to, I don’t know, welcome us to the hunt, or try to intimidate us. Or just wing us ahead of a scrap.’
‘That’s a highly irrational course of action.’ Airex frowned. ‘More likely they took their time to scope out a safe route, realised that had diminished their lead, and left this to delay us. It worked.’
‘I don’t want to get dismissive of our enemy, or assume them to be mindlessly bloodthirsty,’ said Rourke, ‘but it’s not outlandish to suspect they want us chasing them. Regardless, the buoy means they know about us for sure. Based on their time of departure from Talmiru and when they deployed the buoy, and the fact they’re not at Elgatis yet, do we have any estimation of their cruising speed?’
Cortez tried to not scratch the skin that had burned, tried to not do the maths in her head, and failed at both while she kept quiet.
Drake blew out his cheeks. ‘I mean, if Lieutenant Dathan’s right, they could have sat here for a bit waiting for us before they dropped the mine. So -’
‘Cruising speed of a Vor’cha is warp 7,’ Airex interrupted. ‘I highly doubt they’re travelling higher than Warp 6 while cloaked, which sets even our cruising speed as nearly twice theirs. If they’ve maintained that for the last three or four days, I estimate they will arrive at Elgatis in no sooner than ninety hours.’
Rourke huffed and looked at Cortez. ‘Can we beat them there?’
She knew the captain understood the use of getting the whole senior staff together for meetings like this, which could have been smaller discussions with conclusions shared after. But this helped break down their tasks, made sure they were communicating, and in times of strife it helped remind the crew that they could lean on one another instead of carrying burdens themselves.
Except Cortez knew how often everything came down to what she and her team could pull off, regardless of anyone else’s brilliance or hard work. ‘I don’t recommend getting underway in less than six hours. By then I’ll have our hull breaches patched. Our EPS relays will still look like Frankenstein’s monster, but our plasma flow and power levels will be stable. This means we want, what, Warp 9?’ She checked her PADDs, though she knew the answer and this was just so she had a few seconds to stall for time. ‘If we’re behind them, it’ll only be by a few hours.’
‘That could be lethal,’ Rourke pointed out, then hesitated. ‘Try your best, Commander.’
For once, she hadn’t pulled the engineer’s classic trick of under-promising so she could over-deliver. It wasn’t that Cortez didn’t believe in such things, but her head had been too full of the project ahead to worry about setting expectations for everyone else. She was quick to escape the meeting once it was over; Rourke looked like he might have spoken to her, but an awkward guilt hung about him. Carraway needed dodging anew, but Kharth spent so long gathering her paperwork he couldn’t get to her before she left, the Security Chief flashing her a brief thumbs-up.
Main Engineering was more of a dull drone than a buzz of activity, the long hours taking their toll. She had to clap to get attention, feeling her throat tighten as she tried to raise her voice. Fumes she’d inhaled had done a number on her lungs, which Sadek had also mended, but there was plenty of recovery that only rest could deliver. She coughed on her first attempt to speak up, then waved her hands as engineers’ eyes turned her way.
‘Alright, people! We’re underway in six hours! That means prioritising hull integrity and power to the warp core. Then we’ve got an ETA of about ninety hours before we make enemy contact.’ She stabbed a finger about her staff as she spoke. ‘Chief, you’re on the injection chamber. Ensign, warp field stabilisation. Baranel, keep Koya and her deck gang on the teams to get that hull patched back up and I’ll catch up with you soon.’
Adupon had slithered from somewhere beside her, poised like he wanted to say something. She didn’t think she could start calling out again if she stopped, so didn’t yield the floor.
Only when she was done did she turn to him, voice dropping even quieter than usual. ‘Alright,’ she said, hardly missing a beat on her patter despite the volume change. ‘Get everyone on shorter shifts with shorter downtime - just as many working hours overall, more smaller breaks. Let them recharge before throwing them back in; no need to burn everyone out at once.’
‘I’m, ah, on it,’ said Adupon, but pressed on. ‘And actually, I’ve had Ensign Forrester overseeing Baranel and his teams.’
Cortez frowned. ‘Forrester is, like, twelve.’
‘She’s… I don’t know human ages.’ Adupon shook his head. ‘But she ran the aft section of your damage control teams and did a good job. I know we only brought her on last month and she was a bit untested, but she’s been very solid.’
Positivity like that from Adupon would have been excessive gushing from anyone else. Cortez rubbed her eyes. ‘Alright, she can be my number two when I get back down there. Meanwhile, you need to make sure the warp core’s in a condition for us to maintain factor 9 for about four days; that’ll take checking the calibration on the injectors -’
‘Commander.’ Adupon winced. ‘I know.’
She stared at him. Then past him, across to the other engineers all knuckling down to work at their various stations, at this buzzing heart of the ship. Her hands came back up to her temples. ‘Oh, God, I’m being that guy, aren’t I.’
‘I don’t…’
‘You did a good job in here.’ She made herself meet his gaze. ‘Kept this place ticking over in the crisis. And after, while I’ve been everywhere else at once. Which makes it an outstanding job if you also noticed who’s picking up the slack elsewhere. Tes Forrester, huh? I thought she was too theoretical.’
‘She has good instincts.’
‘When did you last sleep, Ad?’
Adupon visibly resented the familiarity, but shrugged. ‘I had a solid seven hours before you went to your office to nap. Which, by the way, was only four hours ago.’
That probably helped explain why Cortez could feel the exhaustion in her soul. Grit and caffeine and necessity kept the body working, kept her mind humming superficially, but everything else was a black hole where if she didn’t grab a thought or concentration with both hands, it tumbled into the void. ‘I thought I was in there longer,’ she confessed.
‘Chief…’ He shifted his feet. ‘Are you doing alright? You just had every engineer’s nightmare daydream.’
She was glad he’d said it first. No engineer wanted to crawl into a confined space and test their brilliance and skills against the ship they’d loved and bled into while it tried to kill them and those they cared about. But for many engineers there was a small, dark part that saw it as both the black dog that hounded them, and the blaze of glory they craved. Save the day with talent and guile, and surrender to ship’s obliviating embrace.
Cortez rubbed her eyes again. ‘I might still be a bit literally cooked.’ She hesitated. ‘That’s not right. Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do if I stop.’
‘Go to your quarters and sleep? I promise, we can get underway without you.’
She only didn’t argue because she didn’t want to discuss the truth with Lieutenant Adupon, of all people. But that meant she had to promise to not be back for at least eight hours, though she feared it would be longer if her head so much as made contact with a pillow. That, however, was not the true reason she’d avoided properly clocking off work.
Isa Cortez liked to think she was one of the least emotionally damaged of Endeavour’s senior staff. She knew emotions were best faced and processed, that feelings were best discussed, and didn’t fear them like many of her fellow officers. Which meant she knew exactly what she should deal with once she was no longer carrying all of the burdens of the Chief Engineer, and exactly where she should go. Her reluctance wasn’t about repression, or a particularly complicated avoidance. She knew what she felt and what she thought, and broadly knew what she’d need to say when she went to Karana Valance’s quarters. She was just nervous.
When there was no immediate response to her tap of the door-chime, she had to fight the instinct to run. But then the doors slid open and she was stepping into the dim-lit room.
It was not accurate to say she’d never seen Valance dressed-down. First thing in the morning was not a dignified time for anyone. But Cortez had been acutely aware of the lengths to which Valance went to maintain a tight grip on, if not decorum, then poise. Cortez had generally let her pick the times and places of their meetings, let Valance make sure she had warning or could set the tone of a date, from an elaborate and intimate dinner to a quick coffee in the lounge. Even in a messy, quick, casual meal grabbed in someone’s quarters after a long shift, Cortez had made sure to give Valance the space she needed to maintain control.
In her heart of hearts, she knew that was why the fight about Cortez’s personal past had been picked. The sudden professional need to define their relationship had plucked that control from Valance’s hands, and once on unsteady ground she’d pushed Cortez away. But understanding hadn’t stopped that from hurting. And it didn’t make Valance’s current condition any less boggling.
There was nothing unusual on the surface. Off-duty for a day, it was apparent that Valance had done nothing more strenuous than sit on a sofa in comfortable clothes and read, and Cortez was ready to bet it wasn’t light, entertaining material. But Valance was already on her feet when Cortez walked in, and it wasn’t the baggy sweats with the Academy hoodie or the loose, tousled hair that made Cortez stop in her tracks. But she had almost never seen such a gaze of unsteady apprehension on Karana Valance’s face.
And certainly not directed at her.
They both hesitated, and Cortez decided that exhaustion was a great excuse to not think. ‘I, uh.’ Not-thinking meant she made sounds, but it turned out they weren’t that useful. She took a deep breath and tried again. ‘I realised that ‘cos I stormed off last time, it was kinda my job to come back instead of expecting you to chase me. I didn’t -’
‘Are you alright?’
She’d been angry, Cortez reminded herself. Some of her rawest wounds had seen salt rubbed in them just for Valance’s goddamn issues. But now Valance was crossing the distance between them only to stop mere feet away, hovering with such open apprehension and concern, seemingly forgetting everything in that moment except her, Cortez, and her wellbeing.
It was hard to stay angry. Cortez lifted her hands reassuringly. ‘Doc Sadek checked me out and sent me back on my merry. I was just a little cooked.’
‘How long were you in there - that maintenance hatch reached over, what, a hundred degrees, it was humid, the metal must have been heated…’
Burning. Scalding. Her head spinning as her fingers were singed, every breath feeling like it wasn’t enough and was still cooking her insides, but if she didn’t concentrate and push through it she was dead, they were all dead -
Cortez closed her eyes a heartbeat. ‘I’m not gonna lie,’ she mumbled, mouth dry. ‘It sucked.’ She saw Valance shift before stopping herself, and her breath caught. Gingerly Cortez approached, the inches between them still stretched like miles. ‘But I didn’t have time to think about anything except… plasma conduits and staying conscious. I can’t imagine what it was like for you.’
Valance’s shoulders hunched in. ‘I didn’t - God, why does everyone try to pity me?’
But the rejection of sympathy sounded like self-loathing, and Cortez at last reached out, fingertips running along her knuckles. ‘Because it sounds like it was goddamn rough for you, too,’ she said softly. ‘And you did the right thing.’
At last, Valance met her eyes. ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ she whispered, fingers curling with hers, then shook her head. ‘No, that’s not right - I thought I’d killed you.’
‘Hey.’ Cortez stepped in, and Valance bowed her forehead to hers, and for a moment it was just enough to stand there, radiating in each other’s presence, because somehow it was easier to be strong for each other than for themselves. ‘I stayed to reroute that conduit. I took that risk. I took this job.’ But words felt clumsy and inadequate, and as Cortez fumbled for more, she found all she could do instead was lean up and kiss her.
She knew in the past they’d turned to the physical to avoid clearer communication, like when Valance had so transparently shied away from showing her fear when Cortez had been stabbed on Remidian. But sometimes it wasn’t an evasion; sometimes it was so much clearer to pour all the fear and all the reassurance and all the affection into an embrace. They were here. They were alive. They were together.
Valance’s breath was shaky as the embrace broke. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t -’
‘For being an ass the other day.’
Cortez’s eyes flickered open. ‘Oh. That.’
‘I was spooked,’ Valance confessed falteringly. ‘I’m used to keeping the personal and the professional separate, but suddenly it was professional to include the personal. And I knew you had something in your past, and I think I… thought it was worse than it was.’
This all made sense, but Cortez still felt her shoulders tense. ‘You shouldn’t have taken that out on me. You think I don’t feel like hell about what went down with Aria?’
‘I know, I shouldn’t have made it about me,’ Valance sighed. ‘Carraway stopped by earlier and gave me as close as I think he comes to a telling-off.’
Cortez’s lips had to curl at that. ‘A gentle savaging,’ she mused. ‘I guess you couldn’t avoid him while signed off-duty for emotional recovery.’
Valance shifted her feet. ‘You’re important to me,’ she said at last, voice stilted despite the audible sincerity. ‘This relationship is important to me. I shouldn’t shy away from it.’
Absolute exhaustion had sunk into Cortez’s bones hours ago. She’d been running on fumes for her work, and only made it this far after leaving Engineering because she knew she couldn’t rest with this personal Sword of Damocles hanging over her. So when her first response to the admission was to laugh, she didn’t have anything left to stop a low guffaw escaping - and continuing, and before she knew it she was bent-double with racking laughter. ‘Oh no,’ she wheezed. ‘I’m sorry -’
Valance stepped back, arms folded, and Cortez wondered if she’d just manifested into one of her worst nightmares: laughing at emotional vulnerability. ‘I don’t -’
‘I’m sorry, I’m very tired.’ Cortez clawed for her hand, having to hold tight as she fought back the laughter and looked up at Valance’s guarded eyes. ‘You’re very sweet, doing what Greg said and telling me that in those specific words.’
Something twitched at Valance’s lips. ‘He… I did say that to him, and he did say I should just say it like that to you.’
Cortez managed to sober and straighten, a hand coming to Valance’s cheek. ‘God, when I met you I thought you were this badass who totally had your shit together - and I mean, you are, but you’re also an adorable dolt.’
It was probably the likelihood nobody had ever called Valance ‘adorable’ in her life that Cortez survived the experience. Valance sighed, expression finally shedding the apprehension, the guilt, or even the offence, and moving to an accepting surrender. ‘I’m working on it,’ she admitted. ‘But you must be exhausted, so for now, I’ll just repeat that I’m sorry.’
‘It’s a start,’ Cortez mused. ‘And I am totally shattered. So if you’re really sorry, you can let me use your shower and get me something real easy to eat and let me crash here…’
‘That sounds fair.’ Valance kissed her on the forehead. ‘I wasn’t planning on letting you go anywhere else.’
‘USS Endeavour, this is Foreman Compton of the Elgatis Refinery. The D’Ghor are here.’
Rourke listened to the full message piping across the bridge with a clenched jaw. Then he summoned the senior staff.
‘The good news,’ he said once they were gathered in the conference room, ‘is that Compton listened to our warning. Mining operations were suspended, and the staff withdrew to the main refinery complex itself. This means we don’t have civilians scattered across the Elgatis Belt to be picked off by the Kut’luch. And it is the Kut’luch.’
He lifted a hand to the holo-display across the conference room wall, which shifted for a tactical map of the Elgatis Belt, the refinery a green circle in the centre. ‘The central complex houses both personnel and he uridium storage, and is heavily shielded. This is designed to prevent theft via transporters rather than to withstand assault, but it means the D’Ghor will have to navigate the whole of the asteroid belt and dock.’
Airex twirled his PADD’s stylus as he looked between displays. ‘Lockdown protocols suggest the staff can reasonably delay the D’Ghor’s progress through the facility. They would have to breach multiple bulkheads and sections manually to make it to either the refinery control centre or the storage chambers.’
Kharth scoffed. ‘Or the D’Ghor just open fire from the Kut’luch, blast their way to the control centre, then fly in directly without forcing their way through multiple decks. It’s barbaric, but is that unlike them?’
Rourke saw Valance stiffen as his XO sat up. But instead of addressing the Security Chief’s loaded language, she simply said, ‘The D’Ghor want hand-to-hand combat, and Compton reported they’d launched a transport from the Kut’luch. They’ll dock and want to fight their way to the staff to unlock the facility.’
He nodded. ‘I agree. This gives us time to catch up before there’s a slaughter. I want to make it clear that in this engagement, protecting the refinery staff is our top priority. We can live to fight the Kut’luch another day if they get away. I also need to make it clear that engaging a Vor’cha-class with a cloaking device in an asteroid belt while we need to protect a secondary location is not going to be an easy fight.’
Rourke turned to the tactical map and with a sweep of the hand, expanded the projection, the display lighting up as he spoke. ‘We’ll be dividing our resources. Endeavour will have to drop out of warp somewhere in this region in order to navigate the asteroid belt at impulse. We will proceed towards the refinery, but our priority will be to locate and engage the Kut’luch. A team will be dispatched on the King Arthur to rush to the refinery and board in order to repel any D’Ghor assault team.’
Drake leaned forward. ‘How’s the King Arthur approaching? Separately, or do we launch once the Kut’luch’s been pinned down?’
‘That’s an answer you and Commander Airex need to give me,’ Rourke said. ‘I expect the Kut’luch will see us coming and be cloaked when we arrive. But time is of the essence; we have to send reinforcements to the refinery. Can the King Arthur reasonably avoid detection or evade the Kut’luch in the asteroid belt while Endeavour closes?’
Airex furrowed his brow. ‘It may be possible to recalibrate the King Arthur’s ramscoop to intake and emit uridium dust already in the field, which would go some way to obscuring the ship’s presence in such proximity to -’
‘It’s not necessary.’ Valance tilted her chin up as eyes fell on her. ‘Not so long as the D’Ghor see the King Arthur is going to the refinery, and Endeavour is bearing down on the Kut’luch. They want to fight hand-to-hand. Kuskir will let the King Arthur through to give his boarding party a battle, and confront Endeavour to hope to achieve the same for us. So long as we offer a battle, and don’t fly the runabout down his throat, he won’t try to destroy a small shuttle when leaving it alone promises the action his warriors truly crave.’
Airex sighed. ‘Delightful.’
‘In which case,’ Rourke sighed, ‘we’ll deploy the King Arthur when we arrive, and Endeavour will escort her in until the Kut’luch shows itself. At which point we intercept, and the King Arthur proceeds to the refinery.’
Kharth’s gaze was guarded as she looked at him. ‘Who do you want on the King Arthur?’
‘Commander Valance will lead the away mission,’ said Rourke, getting a stern nod from his XO. ‘If the D’Ghor can’t be repelled, you’re to find and evacuate the refinery staff on the runabout and return to Endeavour. You’ll bring Lieutenant Rhade and his Hazard Team. That’s all.’ To his faint relief, Kharth didn’t argue despite her obvious discontent. He needed his tactical officer on the bridge if Endeavour was in for a fight.
Valance pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘If the systems of the refinery are being used to keep the D’Ghor out, I’d like Lieutenant Thawn on the away mission. She’s our best chance of exploiting the home turf advantage.’
Rourke glanced to Thawn, who looked nervous but not disagreeing, and he nodded. ‘Alright. We -’
‘The King Arthur is gonna need a pilot,’ Drake butted in. ‘It won’t be easy flying through the asteroid belt, and if the Kut’luch does go for her or send shuttles to intercept…’
‘Lieutenant, there’s no way I’m putting you on the runabout,’ Rourke said flatly. ‘Your place is at the helm. Give us your best shuttle pilot.’
Drake worked his jaw indignantly. ‘I’ve officers I’d rather take Endeavour’s helm than ones I’d rather take the King Arthur.’
Rourke drew a breath to push the argument, but found Valance had glanced between them both and beat him to it. ‘Then recommend your best shuttle pilot,’ she said, ‘and they’ll be my co-pilot.’
Drake stared. ‘Commander -’
‘I was a helm officer for ten years,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m more than qualified for this mission. Do you still have Harkon on shuttles?’ Drake nodded through visibly gritted teeth, and Valance leaned back. ‘I’ll take Ensign Harkon.’
‘I don’t mean to add to this,’ said Dathan, sounding sincerely apologetic. ‘But I would like to accompany the away team.’ She shrugged as Rourke peered at her. ‘I’d like to conduct a more first-hand assessment of the D’Ghor’s operations.’
Lieutenant Rhade’s honest expression creased. ‘We can try to cover you as a field observer, Lieutenant.’
But Kharth scoffed. ‘No offence, Dathan, but with your marksmanship and combat ratings, I can’t support you tagging along.’
Dathan looked indignant, but Rourke was gently relieved to find he agreed with Kharth, having seen Endeavour’s newest crewmember’s personnel records. ‘Lieutenant Kharth is right,’ he said briskly. ‘That’s not sufficient reason to send you into your first fight. So that’s Commander Valance, Lieutenant Thawn, and Ensign Harkon with Lieutenant Rhade’s Hazard Team. Study the deck layouts for the refinery we have on record and the latest update from Foreman Compton on their defences. Either drive off the D’Ghor, or evacuate the thirty-eight staff listed.’ He looked down the rest of the table. ‘Otherwise, you all know your jobs in a fight. We arrive in three hours. Questions?’
Silence met him, and he nodded. ‘Then get to work. Dismissed - Commander Valance, Lieutenants Thawn and Drake, stick around a moment.’
Thawn had half-risen from her seat but sank down with a confused glance at Drake, who still looked aggravated and remained sitting. Rourke walked around the table to resume his seat next to Valance at the head, and waited with a neutral expression as the other officers left. And then a beat after.
That was enough to make Drake fidget. ‘Ensign Harkon will probably -’
‘This isn’t about that,’ Rourke said flatly. He’d put this off a day or so, because his staff were running themselves ragged. But they were about to see action, and Drake’s behaviour in the meeting, while not the topic of conversation, had made it clear he needed to speak up. ‘This is about the mine.’
Thawn had her usual look when a superior officer wasn’t lavishing praise on her, a guarded apprehension that was, for once, deserved. Drake just squinted. ‘Sir? We didn’t -’
‘See it coming. But Lieutenant Kharth mentioned it was noticed as an anomaly on navigational sensors five seconds before impact.’ Rourke tapped his PADD, the sensor data shining on the display.
‘That was… an anomaly.’ Drake shrugged. ‘Not a proximity warning.’
‘No. But it was on your sensors and you paid it no mind until it hit us.’ Rourke’s jaw tightened as his chest did. ‘Because you were - both of you - far too busy bickering for Lieutenant Drake to notice.’
Thawn blanched at that, but Drake’s shoulders hunched up. ‘Let me see that,’ he said, jabbing a finger at Rourke’s PADD.
‘Lieutenant.’ Valance’s chastisement came like steel and, simmering, Drake subsided.
‘I’ve reviewed the data,’ Rourke pressed. ‘With Lieutenant Kharth.’
‘Neither of you are pilots -’
Rourke shot to his feet, hands slamming on the desk before Valance could intervene for him. ‘And you, Lieutenant Drake, are right now more interested in covering your arse and making excuses than asking if you screwed up and missed a chance for us to avoid a calamity which cost the lives of six crewmembers.’ Drake rocked back at that, and it was Rourke’s turn to point accusingly. ‘You are lucky that Lieutenant Kharth and I agree you most likely wouldn’t have noticed the anomaly, considered it worth evading, and adjusted our flight path before impact, based on how innocuous it appeared. But you sure as hell didn’t look at it and decide it wasn’t worthy of consideration, because you weren’t even looking at your navigational sensors when we were hit!’
His chest was heaving, veins fizzing, and Rourke had to bite down on the anger rising further as Drake all but shrank back in his chair. Fury was a drug, he’d learnt long ago; seductive and intoxicating, and it would be easy, so easy, to lash out at these two officers for their error and blame them for all that had gone wrong. So he took a moment to let out a slow breath, and tried to take the edge of his rage with it as he looked between them. When he spoke again, his voice was more tempered. ‘I don’t know what the hell has been going on between you two all along. I certainly thought you’d dealt with it. But whatever personal issues you have, it ends now.’
Thawn squirmed. ‘Sir, I don’t know -’
‘I do not need excuses, Lieutenant Thawn.’ His eyes narrowed at her. ‘The oversight was at navigation, but the failure of professionalism was on you both. You two can talk it out or you can shut up about it forever, but I never again want to hear your pettiness on the bridge. Am I understood?’ Mute nods answered his snap, and he pointed at the door. ‘Now get out of my sight.’
He sank onto his chair as they left, scrubbing his face with his hands, and for a moment time became nothing but his thudding heartbeat and the blood pounding in his ears. Then Valance spoke, level and cool. ‘Do you want me to write up a reprimand?’
‘No,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t think we’d have dodged that mine even if Drake’s nose had been shoved to his console. I don’t want any formal indication what happened was their fault. But if they don’t get their act together, next time will be worse.’
‘I agree. I’d thought they resolved their issues.’
‘It used to be Thawn jumping down Drake’s throat, then they made peace with each other. But they’re not just at it again; Drake’s suddenly the one starting it.’ Rourke groaned. ‘Since Lieutenant Rhade arrived.’
Valance rolled her eyes. ‘Hell.’
‘My sentiments exactly.’ He brought his hands down his face so he could look at her. ‘How’re you doing, Commander?’
‘You didn’t have to send Carraway to me while I was off-duty.’
‘I didn’t tell him, he just sniffed an opportunity.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘Commander Cortez looked in decent spirits.’
Valance worked her jaw a moment. ‘We spoke,’ she said at length.
Rourke snorted. ‘You’re right.’ He stood up. ‘We definitely don’t need to talk about it. You’re ready to face the D’Ghor?’
Commander Valance didn’t answer for a moment, gathering her PADDs, lips pressed together. ‘Sir,’ she said at length, and looked him in the eye. ‘If they are even a fraction of the nightmare I think they are, none of us are ready.’
‘Thought I’d find you here.’
Drake looked up from the flight controls of the King Arthur to see Cortez hauling herself into the cockpit. He frowned. ‘I’m just double-checking the flight systems with the combat pod installed.’
‘Sure, that’s a task you have to do, and can’t leave to Harkon.’ She slipped into the operations seat behind him, fingers inputting commands.
‘Hey, what’re you doing? Isn’t this Koya’s job?’
‘Oh, she’s doing a weapons check. I’m making sure engine power can still be raised to the same levels if you need a boost.’ She looked up and gave a lopsided, self-effacing smirk. ‘Also, yes, I’m wildly over-qualified but I gotta check for myself this runabout’s in the best possible condition before it flies my girlfriend into a death-trap. What’s your excuse?’
Drake looked back at his controls. ‘Do I need an excuse except not wanting our friends to get blown up?’
There was a bleep as Cortez locked her console and slid over to the co-pilot’s seat. ‘I know what’s going on. Been going through it myself.’ He tensed, fishing for an effective lie, but then she continued. ‘You really should trust your people can do their jobs. That things won’t go wrong just because you turn your back on them five seconds.’
‘What do you mean, you’ve been going through it?’ he asked guardedly.
Cortez sighed. ‘I led the damage control teams when we were hit. I said it was because I had to, but the truth is I’ve got a perfectly good kid in my engineering team who can do the job, he just needed a little trust. Then I ran myself into the ground overseeing the repairs, again telling myself it’s because it was a catastrophe. But again, I’ve got a good team, people I could and should have delegated to. I got it into my head that I had to do everything myself, and it was making me a crappy leader, not to mention giving me ulcers.’ She punched him lightly on the arm. ‘Harkon’s a good pilot. They’ll do a good job. You’re gonna have to let go.’
He should have left it there. But instead he twisted in his chair, squinted at her, and said, ‘So, you’re here being a massive hypocrite?’
‘Hey, while I’m down here, Adupon’s prepping the team for combat footing. That’s a big trust I’m putting in him. Besides, if I do this, then I’ll have an easier time focusing on my job instead of worrying about Karana when the shooting starts. What’s your -’ But Cortez stopped, and her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, no.’
‘What? No -’
‘No, come on, Connor.’
He lifted jerked his hands up. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘If you tell me you’ve got a little crush on Thawn…’ She pointed an accusing finger.
‘I’m not telling you that!’
‘But you do, don’t you.’
‘No, because that’d be really inconvenient.’ Drake stood up and backed away from the chair.
‘It would, because her great hunk of a fiancé has just shown up -’
‘It’s an arranged engagement,’ he sneered before he could stop himself. ‘It’s not like she’s mad for him, and he’s not that hunky -’
‘Oh, come on, I’m gay as the day is long and that is an attractive man.’ Cortez rolled her eyes. ‘Have you just been pulling her pigtails the last few months?’
‘It’s not like that!’ he insisted, though the words sounded a bit empty even to himself. But before he could assemble a half-decent defence, he spotted movement in the shuttlebay through the canopy, and swore. ‘Here they come - you say a goddamn word -’
‘Like what?’ Cortez looked offended. ‘“Good luck on your super dangerous mission, Thawn, oh, by the way, Connor here thinks you’re hot? Please don’t let your fiancé turn him into a smear.”’
‘I mean, sure, don’t say that.’
Her shoulders sagged, and she gave him another gentle arm-punch. ‘Whatever it is, you gotta pull it together, okay? You have been wound up so tight, and it’s not just messing with your work, it’s not a good look on you. Figure out your stuff, and put it to bed.’ She winced. ‘And so long as Lieutenant Hunk is here to stay, it’s not the fun kind of bed.’
‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘It’s not a big deal. It wasn’t even a full-on feeling, you know? Just a…’
‘A little thing that maybe, with sunlight and water, could have been a real thing.’ Cortez sighed as they watched the officers approach the King Arthur, then her face shifted for a mask of amusement. ‘Honestly, words of wisdom like that, I could put Greg out of a job. C’mon, game faces.’
Rhade, Thawn, and Valance had arrived ahead of the Hazard Team, and Koya was already with them by the time Cortez and Drake emerged, talking them through the alterations to the ship’s profile with the weapons pod installed. So it was Rhade, broad and resplendent in his combat gear, who noticed them first, and his smile was annoyingly pleasant.
‘I see we’re getting priority attention from the Flight and Engineering departments?’
Cortez scoffed as she sauntered over. ‘I’ve got an itsy-bitsy interest in you not getting blown up. Just for you, Lieutenant; your pretty face is a novelty and I’d hate for us to be denied it -’
‘Isa.’ Valance arched an amused eyebrow. ‘You’re nibbling boot-leather there.’
She subsided at that, but Drake was quietly relieved she’d drawn attention with her usual babble. She gave Rhade an apologetic look. ‘Uh, yeah, sorry for that bit of casual objectification. All meant with courteous professionalism.’
But Rhade looked gently amused. ‘And you’re doing delightful work, Commander Cortez.’
‘Thanks, I am delightful.’ She cleared her throat and clapped her hands together, recovering poise. ‘I’m done with the systems check. Because I’m a crazy perfectionist who had to see it for myself. Which is why I dragged Connor down here to help.’
Drake tried to hide the rush of gratitude with a long-suffering expression. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he told Valance. ‘You’ll fly fine.’
‘I appreciate you taking the time, Lieutenant,’ said Valance, in a way he thought was a little condescending after Rourke had torn strips off them.
But then Thawn piped up, ‘Yes, thank you,’ quietly, but with a sincerity which made his gut twist, and he couldn’t help but look at her after spending most of the conversation trying to ignore her existence.
‘Yeah, well.’ He rolled a shoulder. ‘You know I always gotta double-check your work calibrating the nav sensors, so I thought I’d save you the effort this time.’
Indignation reached her eyes. ‘You double-check but you don’t find anything wrong -’ But now he couldn’t help smirking, and her gaze turned even more indignant as she realised he was winding her up, and he thought his stomach was now going to turn inside-out. ‘You’re terrible.’
‘See?’ said Cortez. ‘You better come back or you miss out on all our charms.’
Drake thought everyone, especially Cortez, might explode of surprise when Valance reached for her arm in an unmistakably intimate way, and the XO’s gaze turned softer. ‘We’ll be fine.’
It was Cortez’s turn to reel. ‘You better. We spent ages fixing this thing up.’
‘You came down here twenty minutes ago,’ said Petty Officer Koya flatly. ‘I’ve been here two hours.’
‘Oh. Yeah.’ Cortez hesitated, then turned back to Valance. ‘You need to reassure Koya all intensely and nicely, too.’
Drake cleared his throat. ‘We should get back.’ He gave them all a nod of forced cheer. ‘Good luck.’
He didn’t pay close enough attention to whatever farewells were exchanged by Cortez and Valance. Had he been in a better mood, he’d have been surprised and pleased at this change in tune, this open admission of feelings even in a professional, if quiet, space. He was relieved despite himself that Rhade made sure to give him a hearty, grateful handshake, because gritting his teeth at that meant he didn’t have to look too much at Thawn before he and Cortez finished up and left.
They were out of the shuttlebay and heading down the corridor, destined to separate at the turbolifts, before she spoke. ‘Not a full-on feeling, huh?’
‘You’re right,’ he groaned. ‘It needs smothering.’
‘Great news. You’re about to get a hell of a distraction.’
* *
Rourke tried to hide his discomfort as he gathered at the back of the bridge with Commander Airex and Lieutenant Kharth. ‘I’d rather not bring this point up,’ he said, hands on his hips. ‘But there’s a security concern I need to raise.’ He caught them exchange glances; despite their awkward relationship, they were better than he thought they’d ever admit at nonverbal communication, and he sighed. ‘Truthfully, Lieutenant, it’s one of the main reasons I wanted you on the bridge.’
Now Kharth frowned at that, wrong-footed by him bringing up the offence. ‘Sir?’
‘We know the D’Ghor are particularly fond of boarding for hand-to-hand combat. Torkath warned me that I’d be viewed as a priority target… which sounds self-evident, I know.’
‘But when it comes to the D’Ghor,’ said Airex a little acidly, ‘their personal priorities may override more sensible tactical considerations.’
‘You mean, they might go on a suicide run for the captain.’ Kharth’s gaze was flattening. ‘Not to take an enemy commander out of a fight, but so they, personally, got to kill them. It is subtly but importantly different.’ She sighed. ‘You want me here for your protection, sir? I’ve already got additional bridge security for this -’
‘Don’t get me wrong; if anyone’s going to have my back, I want it to be you,’ Rourke said roughly. He hadn’t been thinking much about his words, but the effect on Kharth was immediate, her chin tilting up an inch in surprise. ‘But I don’t want you abandoning your post to come and save me. No, with Commander Valance and Lieutenant Rhade by necessity on the away mission, I want more combat-focused redundancies in the bridge’s chain of command.’
Airex sighed. ‘I suppose under normal circumstances, both you and I being incapacitated is considerably more unlikely.’
‘And,’ said Rourke, bracing himself, ‘Lieutenant Kharth has more combat experience than you, Commander.’
He’d been expecting indignation from Airex, consistently disapproving of Endeavour’s tactical priorities. Perhaps the clear and present danger won his cause, or perhaps Airex for whatever reason wouldn’t show indignation about this to Kharth. Instead the Trill looked between them both and said, in a surprisingly neutral voice, ‘Are you saying that Lieutenant Kharth should assume command in case of your incapacitation, sir?’
Kharth looked horrified. ‘That’s -’
‘No.’ Rourke lifted a hand. ‘You’re my second officer, Commander, and you’ve given me no reason to question your capabilities. But if I’m out of action, I want Lieutenant Kharth here to advise you.’ He looked at her. ‘That’s why you’re not on the away mission, Lieutenant. No doubt Juarez can man Tactical, but when things get rough, you’re my fly-half.’
She had been starting to soften, as Rourke thought for the first time he was making her understand why he’d brought in Rhade, why he was using Dathan; that it was an expression of his immense respect for her and her skills, not a lack thereof. But his last word made her stop and squint. ‘Your what?’
‘Sporting reference,’ drawled Airex. ‘Think about when humans blather on about a “quarterback.”’
‘Hey, I play a real sport -’
But Kharth had turned away and gestured across the bridge. ‘Arys!’
Rourke frowned as she summoned his yeoman, the burly Andorian stepping away from Communications to join them. ‘Ensign, I’m not sure what the Lieutenant -’
‘Ensign, you can stop flirting with Lindgren and make yourself useful,’ Kharth said bluntly, which was enough to make the young man turn an interesting shade of purple. ‘You’re now on the bridge for this battle; get yourself geared up and ready for melee. You’re bodyguarding the captain if Klingons board.’ Rourke hadn’t brought this up with young Arys yet because it felt odd asking a junior officer whom he knew resented him to protect him. Perhaps that was why Kharth had brought up Lindgren in order to wrong-foot him, but it seemed to work.
Arys looked between them, straightened, and nodded. ‘As you say, Lieutenant. I’ll get my ushaan-tor out of storage.’
‘Good kid.’ Kharth clapped him on the shoulder as he headed off and looked up at Rourke. ‘Will that do, sir?’
‘I mean, your subtle disregard for rugby hasn’t enamoured either of you to me,’ he told both senior officers flatly.
‘Then I think we’re done,’ said Airex, and Rourke was left with distinct relief that the two couldn’t get on ninety-percent of the time. They were unbearably smug otherwise.
‘Coming up on Elgatis Belt,’ Drake reported as the three resumed their posts.
‘Still no sign of enemy ships on sensors,’ Kharth confirmed as she reached Tactical.
‘They’re out there,’ Rourke said, low voice rumbling across the bridge. ‘And if they’re not, they’ve got something worse planned.’ He looked around the officers; Drake, Lindgren, Kharth, Airex, junior officers filling spaces. More security than he’d ever put on the bridge, every person for once issued with a side-arm even here. ‘There’s every chance this will be rougher and more personal than any ship-to-ship combat you’ve seen. It’s alright to be afraid. But you’re not alone up here. Remember that I would, and have, trusted each and every one of you with my life. Keep trusting each other. We’ll get through this as a team.’ He should have prepared something better, he reflected bitterly. Starfleet was unaccustomed to combat like this, everyone here too young to remember the last war.
Everyone but him.
‘Dropping out of warp in five,’ came Drake’s clear voice.
Rourke nodded. ‘Red alert.’
The lights dimmed as the galaxy changed around them. The streaming stars stilled on the viewscreen as Endeavour stopped catapulting through the great dark to drift back to rest. A needle of bright light lancing from the distant sun of Elgatis filled the view until a shadow passed over it, showing all around them the tumbling dark of shattered remnants of planets never born. Each asteroid of the Elgatis Belt looked tiny from here, but Rourke knew some were larger than his ship, possibly larger than the Kut’luch. And there, deep in the belly of the belt, squatted the hulking shadow of Elgatis Refinery, built into the largest asteroid itself.
For a long moment, nothing moved, and nothing happened. Rourke drew a deep breath. ‘Elsa, hail the refinery.’
‘Hailing. No response.’
‘Any sign of visitors?’
‘Nothing on sensors that could be the Kut’luch,’ said Kharth.
Airex leaned forwards. ‘Uridium deposits aren’t allowing the clearest sensor reads. There are several small vessels docked at the refinery. I can’t tell which, if any, are Klingon. But I’m detecting more life-signs on the refinery than should be there. Anything from five to thirty Klingons.’
‘Let’s be realistic,’ said Kharth. ‘It’s not five.’
Rourke nodded. ‘Lieutenant Drake, clear the King Arthur to launch. Tell them to stay close, we’ll navigate the belt together. Let’s see if they show themselves.’
‘King Arthur launching… Commander Valance acknowledges and is in formation.’
‘Keep trying to get anyone on that refinery, Elsa. Helm, take us through this bramble patch. Steady as she goes.’ Rourke leaned forward, brow furrowing as they slid towards the twisting, changing paths through rock and metal. ‘Let’s not get pricked by thorns.’
Ensign Harkon, a Ktarian with vivid red hair, was proving a tolerable co-pilot as Valance eased the King Arthur between the asteroids off Endeavour’s port. ‘An object collision ahead has changed some asteroid trajectories. I’m recalculating our flight route.’
‘I see it,’ Valance confirmed.
At the science controls behind them, Thawn sucked her teeth. ‘Still no sign of these Klingons.’
‘Easy, Lieutenant.’ Chief Kowalski had taken Tactical and was sat a little stiffly, as was necessary for a big man in body armour perched on a smaller chair. ‘I reckon they’ll wait until Endeavour’s in much, much deeper.’
‘They’re bigger,’ she said. ‘They’ll have a harder time navigating the asteroid field.’
‘Vor’chas aren’t maneouvrable ships,’ Valance agreed. ‘But if they find a decent space, they can hold position and let their navigational deflectors handle the objects. Endeavour is at her most effective if she can evade as much fire as she can take. If we move to a thicker part of the belt and a fight starts, the Kut’luch can stand still and bring its guns to bear, and Endeavour will have a much harder time dodging.’ She glanced to Harkon. ‘That’s less a problem for us, so keep us in the denser clusters en route.’
‘Sure, Commander.’
Rhade stood at the cockpit door, one hand resting on the top of the door-frame, the rest of the Hazard Team strapped into their seats behind him. ‘Let Endeavour worry about the Kut’luch,’ he said, eyes on Thawn. ‘Our focus is the refinery.’
‘I know,’ she said with, Valance thought, a slightly different impatience to usual. ‘They’re still not answering hails.’
‘Scans should get easier the closer we get,’ said Harkon. ‘Lot of dense material between us still.’
‘I know.’
‘Easy.’ Valance didn’t look up from her controls. The King Arthur’s automated systems were good enough to handle most of the navigating, but this was a fast-changing situation. ‘We’ll get there when we -’
‘Contact!’ Kowalski’s voice plunged the cockpit from tension to action, emergency lights shifting as Thawn at once brought key systems to full power. ‘Battleship decloaking off Endeavour’s aft!’
‘Speeding up and breaking formation,’ Valance said, jaw tight as the King Arthur surged forward under her commands. ‘It’s their job to keep us covered.’
‘Endeavour is moving to block,’ Harkon confirmed.
‘That’s the Kut’luch,’ said Thawn, rather hushed. ‘They’ve opened a channel on all frequencies; Endeavour is responding.’
‘Let’s hear it,’ said Valance, and hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
A panel to her left flickered to life with the visual feed from both the Kut’luch and Endeavour, the King Arthur receiving only. It was odd to see her ship’s bridge like an outsider in a dire situation, and for a moment, she thought Rourke looked - despite his bulk - small as he stood alone before the command chair. But that didn’t last as the square face she’d studied for days that felt like years filled the other screen of the shrouded bridge of the Kut’luch.
‘This is Gaveq, son of Vornir. You remain bold, Starfleet.’
‘Glad you approve.’ Rourke’s wry bravado rang a little hollow in the small cockpit. ‘This is Captain Matt Rourke, USS Endeavour. Stand down, Kut’luch.’
‘You’re limping already, Rourke. A mighty ship brought low by a small surprise.’
‘Still mightier than your out-dated, under-maintained wreck, Gaveq, and you know it.’
‘That is an assumption it will take a lot of blood to test. But I have a proposal for you.’ Gaveq leaned forward, sharp teeth visible in a snarl. ‘I have never killed a Starfleet captain. Face me personally. If I win, I leave with your skull and nothing more. If I lose, my warriors will withdraw.’
Rourke paused. ‘How can I be sure your people will follow your command after death?’
‘No.’ Rhade’s voice at the cockpit door was hushed. ‘He is not considering it…’
‘I cannot bind them once I am gone,’ Gaveq agreed. ‘But if they ignored my last wishes they would battle you without my leadership. Your upper hand would be secure.’
‘And how do I trust you will stand by your word if you kill me?’
‘Trust cannot be proved, Rourke. You think me just a monster?’ Gaveq’s smile widened. ‘And if you do - if you have seen the wailing and sobbing I left on Talmiru, the orphans and widows, the dead who ran and weren’t fast enough - does your heart not burn to kill me with your own hands?’ Valance’s throat tightened, and she forced her eyes to stay on their flight route.
‘The captain’s smarter than this,’ Thawn said quietly. She sounded a little hopeful.
‘I come for justice, Gaveq, not my own satisfaction.’
‘Is it justice for you to gun me down from afar? To deny yourself the sight of life fading from my eyes? It was a pleasure I enjoyed with many of the defenders from Talmiru…’
Rourke was still on his feet, and Valance could see the tension in his gaze even out of the corner of her eyes. ‘How would we do this, Gaveq? Meet at the refinery?’
‘Great hell fire,’ Rhade swore.
‘Trust the captain,’ Valance said, but it was hard to add much conviction to this as she focused on flying, and the sentiment came out rather obligatory.
‘To get himself killed trusting a murderous warlord?’ Rhade thundered.
‘Commander!’ Harkon’s console had beeped. ‘I’m detecting two shuttles on an intercept course - Klingon design, looks like they launched off the Kut’luch and slipped around Endeavour.’
The feed from Endeavour’s bridge echoed the same report from Kharth’s station, but Valance couldn’t see Rourke’s reaction as she kicked up the King Arthur’s speed.
On the bridge of the Kut’luch, Gaveq chuckled. ‘An entertaining diversion, Rourke. But now my warriors are free to chase down your little ship and settle this amongst themselves, and our great game can begin here.’
‘So this whole offer was a distraction while they launched. Stalling for time. Why didn’t I think of that?’ said Rourke, sounding like the words were dragged out of him from somewhere low and bitter. Then he snapped his fingers. ‘Oh, wait. I did.’ And the feed went dead.
‘What’s he doing?’ called Rhade.
On Valance’s navigational sensors, the bright green dot of Endeavour was loomed over by the larger red shape of the Kut’luch, the smaller red dots of the shuttles already bypassing the duo and gaining on the King Arthur. Blue shapes lit up with the asteroids on any trajectory to intersect with possible flight paths. Yet as the Kut’luch opened fire on Endeavour, still hanging at her aft where her firing arc was most limited, Endeavour turned. It wouldn’t be fast enough to shake the Klingon ship, she thought, but then a large asteroid nearby completely changed trajectory, spinning across in between the two vessels.
Thawn gave a surprised laugh. ‘Endeavour was manoeuvring closer to one of the larger asteroids as they talked! She just tractored it to block the Kut’luch’s line of fire and she’s coming about!’
The corner of Valance’s lip curled. ‘I said to trust him.’ But the satisfaction died as she saw the two shuttles drawing closer. ‘Status on these shuttles?’
‘They’re smaller and faster,’ Harkon said. ‘But they could have a dozen warriors between them.’
‘They’ll want to board,’ said Rhade.
‘We might be able to outrun them,’ said Thawn, ‘if I boost power from non-essential systems and even our phasers to impulse. We can burn hotter than them for a short time.’
Valance shook her head. ‘They’ll just catch up at the refinery, then we’re fighting on two fronts. No, we have to take them out here.’ She glanced up from the nav sensors to the canopy. She was not the sort of pilot who eschewed her instruments, who flew by ‘guts’ or ‘instinct.’ Flying was calculation and precision, and her ship’s systems could run all the numbers she needed to get the outcome she wanted. But sometimes you had to see the lay of the land.
‘Harkon,’ she said at length. ‘Plot us a flight route by that cluster of D-class asteroids.’
‘Sure,’ she said, sounding a little guarded. ‘Lieutenant Thawn, if you’d keep monitoring the sensors; D-class are harder for our instruments to detect among all this uridium.’
‘That’s what I’m counting on,’ Valance said. ‘Our sensors will be better than theirs. They’ll have to out-fly us, the asteroids, and our weapons.’ She glanced over her shoulder at Rhade. ‘Recommend you buckle up, Lieutenant.’
‘One shuttle coming up on our aft,’ Kowalski reported. ‘Establishing a firing pattern to try to slow them down.’ A barrage would force the Klingons to adjust their approach, a delay of only a few seconds. But it was enough for them to reach the cluster of darker asteroids before they closed.
‘Keep us in the dense regions, Harkon,’ Valance insisted. ‘They’ll have a harder time of it.’
‘Shuttle One opening fire!’ Kowalski barked, and the King Arthur rocked at the impact. ‘They’re targeting our impulse engines.’
‘They want us drifting so they can board us,’ said Valance.
‘Adjusting deflectors to protect flight systems,’ Thawn said. ‘If you think we can risk leaving the hull less defended.’
‘Watching our backs is your job, Lieutenant,’ said Valance, frowning at the flight route ahead as the King Arthur twisted and spun between asteroids at her command. ‘I trust you there; we’ll get us through.’
Kowalski swore. ‘They’re keeping out of the firing arc of our main cannon.’ The King Arthur rocked again. ‘Shields down to eighty percent.’
‘Chief!’ Thawn twisted in her chair. ‘Fire a barrage of phasers at varying power levels off their port bow. If it forces them starboard, you can get them with the cannon.’
‘Trying it.’ Kowalski didn’t sound like he understood, but obliged. Valance watched as the phaser blasts shot out, a dazzling array on her sensors, and the shuttle veered away more than she’d expected. ‘Got a lock with the main cannon - firing!’
Harkon gave a low whistle. ‘Scratch one Klingon ship.’
‘They flew right into it,’ Kowalski said, looking at Thawn with a bewildered expression.
‘You’ll have overwhelmed their sensors trying to distinguish between the varying blasts; if they’re struggling to pick up any of these asteroids, that’ll have blinded them completely on the port side. I thought they might over-compensate to starboard to where they had better visibility of the belt.’ Thawn sounded quietly pleased.
‘Good work,’ said Valance. ‘But we’ve got -’
The other shuttle took delight in reminding them of its presence. From behind a spinning asteroid it descended, disruptor fire raking across the King Arthur’s dorsal hull, and Valance rocked as she tried to retain control of their delicate flight plan.
Thawn’s satisfaction was long gone. ‘Solid hit on our atmospheric filters,’ she reported. ‘Not urgent, but we don’t want too many strikes like that!’
‘They are right on us,’ Kowalski growled. ‘Redistributing shield power to our dorsal side, but this one’s a better pilot.’
Thawn gave a small yelp as the ship rocked again. ‘I think they’re trying to damage our systems to grab us in a tractor beam; if our power’s too low, we won’t be able to break free.’
‘I see it,’ Valance said through gritted teeth. Her left hand rocketed across her controls, grabbing snapshots of data from the asteroids ahead. The Elgatis Refinery wasn’t far now, a looming shape dominating the canopy as they drew close, but she didn’t fancy meeting half a dozen Klingon warriors from the shuttle the moment they landed. ‘Ensign Harkon, get the timing on this.’
Harkon made a small noise. ‘Uh, if you say so, Commander.’
‘This?’ Thawn echoed unhappily.
‘Hang on,’ said Valance. ‘Boost our shields; I want them confident enough to stay close for a few seconds.’
‘It had better be only a few seconds, Commander,’ called Kowalski.
‘Ready,’ said Harkon after a beat. Then, ‘You’ll have to get this just right.’
Valance nodded. ‘Do it.’
Harkon fired the forward phasers, a blast lancing through the gloom of space and the darker asteroids, and Valance swerved in after it. The blast struck a large asteroid, Harkon keeping the power high and consistent, until it shattered before them, dark shards of rock spiralling and filling the canopy.
Alert klaxons went wild as Valance’s nav sensors warned of proximity, of changing trajectories. But Harkon had hit the asteroid at the exact spot she’d specified, and its breakup had been predictable - not perfect, but enough for her to pick a flight route, bring the King Arthur spinning through the gap in the asteroids she’d anticipated. The path had been calculated, created, and followed - not instinct, but computation.
The smaller Klingon shuttle dogging them, with no such predictive calculations made and a last-generation sensor array, didn’t stand a chance as D-class asteroids spun across its flight path. It glanced off one shard, which was enough to send it careening out of control, directly into a second, larger asteroid remnant, which engulfed it with a muffled blast.
Valance let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding as the second small blip disappeared from her sensors. ‘Status on Endeavour?’
Thawn’s voice was small but frantic. ‘They seem to have the upper hand, Commander. The Kut’luch hasn’t been able to pin them in place, so they’re running rings around her.’
‘Good. Let’s hope we don’t have to do this all over again when we leave.’ Her gaze landed on the hulking shape of the Elgatis Refinery. ‘Now let’s save these workers.’
* *
If someone had told Dathan before this assignment that she’d spend its hottest battle safely nestled in the CIC, she’d have been delighted. She was not here to risk her neck against the D’Ghor, or to endanger herself for the good of Endeavour. Her real mission here was for one purpose, and one purpose only: ascertaining how much Endeavour knew about her stranded expedition.
There was just one problem: no matter who she was, Dathan Tahla despised being useless. And in this battle, the fact she was technically unqualified for the away team meant all she could do was monitor external data coming in, contemplate the strategic implications of the fight in real-time, and generally keep herself busy with pointless tasks while she stayed out of the way.
It was the lack of condescension that burnt in her most, she thought. Back home, if she’d volunteered for a task for which she was unsuited, the response would have been scathing. Or they would have let her try anyway, because if she failed, what was the loss of one more alien? Even this undercover assignment had been given begrudgingly, with little expected of her, granted a chance solely because Lieutenant Dathan was a perfect candidate for replacement. Everything she had, every piece of value she possessed to anyone, had come from clawing and scratching and fighting. Even if she didn’t need the crew of Endeavour to value her, the fact they didn’t stung some deep survival instinct.
As Endeavour rocked gently under her, she tried to focus on her work. Which meant she was yet again startled at the hiss of the doors, and internally cursed at how jumpy she kept being when interrupted here. ‘Counsellor! What is it?’
Carraway looked uncomfortable in his uniform, uncertain in the doorway. ‘I only just realised you were in here, Lieutenant. I was heading to the lockdown point to see if I can be of any use.’
She glanced to his hip. ‘You don’t have a phaser.’
‘I don’t mean that kind of use. There’s fair odds we won’t be boarded, and everyone is sat holding their breath for trouble that’ll never come. That’s a tension that can be managed.’ He looked at her displays. ‘You’re welcome to join me.’
And do something more useful, she heard, though on some level she suspected Carraway was too legitimately nice to think such a thing. She hesitated - then Endeavour rocked again underfoot. ‘I’m fine here.’
‘If we are boarded -’
‘I may not be away team-rated, but I can defend myself,’ she sneered before she could stop herself. At once she regretted it; it was too prickly for a Starfleet analyst, and came across too much like a gibe at his empty holster.
But Carraway just nodded, despite the hint of surprise in his eyes. ‘I’ll just be two sections down with Lieutenant Juarez.’
She sighed as he left, shoulders sagging. But then the deck rocked again under her and, gritting her teeth as she gripped the console for steadiness, she returned to work.
Such as it was.
* *
Endeavour shook only a little under the latest barrage of weapons fire. ‘Shields at seventy-three percent,’ said Kharth, cool and collected.
‘Better than theirs,’ Rourke said wryly, leaning forward. ‘Keep our distance, Helm; we don’t want a slugging match.’
The Kut’luch was, frankly, older than Endeavour, less sophisticated, and had not enjoyed the luxuries of a fleet’s best maintenance teams for many years. An asteroid belt was not the ideal place for a fight, but as Endeavour span away from the Kut’luch’s latest retaliatory strike, Rourke felt a deep, warm satisfaction in his gut.
‘They’re not following,’ Drake said, then he squinted. ‘In fact, they’re on the move.’
‘Running already?’ drawled Kharth.
‘It’s a denser patch of uridium-rich asteroids,’ said Airex coolly. ‘They may think we’ll have a harder time manoeuvring there, but they must be overestimating their sensor sophistication. We’ll have to compensate for precise targeting, but so long as Lieutenant Drake can keep us moving, I think they’ll have a harder time hitting us.’
Rourke sighed. ‘He’s vicious, but he doesn’t know the limits of his ship.’
‘Captain!’ Lindgren’s voice cut through the combat reports. ‘The King Arthur has docked with the refinery.’
‘Good.’ Rourke leaned against his armrest. ‘Keep our distance, Helm, but follow him in. Tactical, stick to phasers until we have a better bearing of the asteroids in this region; don’t waste torpedoes hitting rocks. Steady as she goes.’ His lip curled. ‘Now it’s just us.’
The Hazard Team fanned out across the vast stretch of the empty docking bay. They’d seen the Klingon transport on their approach, latched onto a lower level of the refinery’s infrastructure, but with Federation-issue codes and a superior knowledge of the refinery’s layout, had identified a berthing spot closer to the facility’s control centre.
Valance still wasn’t satisfied, looking back as she stood at the King Arthur’s hatch. ‘Don’t be afraid to launch if you run into trouble, Ensign.’
Harkon made a face. ‘And leave you here?’
‘Better for you to be in one piece and need to land to pick us up, than staying here and getting overrun or shot at from outside. You’re no help to us pinned down or dead.’
She looked past her, across the docking bay. ‘I think it’s more than my job’s worth to come back to Endeavour without you all.’
‘Then keep the engines running and use your discretion.’ Valance swung out of the hatch and landed on the docking bay deck, the metal plating ringing out loudly against her boots. The vast chamber was carved deep into the asteroid’s rock, open space and the belt spilling out on the other side of the huge magnetic field in a void those unaccustomed to life in the stars would find dizzying. The bay would normally be filled with freighters and foundry ships here to help process the uridium or take it away. But any of the few workers brave or foolish enough to approach Elgatis after the start of the D’Ghor raids had been sent away when Endeavour warned the refinery of the Kut’luch’s likely approach. Those who’d stayed behind were essential, raw and mined uridium delicate enough that a skeleton crew was needed to finish the refining process before they could leave. It left the facility like a sleeping giant; motionless while not dead, quiet while still rumbling with the gentle reminder of life. And somewhere deep inside lurked invaders with one lethal goal.
Valance padded across the docking bay to the huge double doors, flanked and covered by a few of the team while Rhade gathered the rest beside a huge, abandoned shipping container. ‘Any signs of life?’
‘All clear here,’ Rhade rumbled. ‘No scans suggesting anyone’s in this section.’
‘I’m trying,’ said Thawn, not looking up from her tricorder and its projected display, ‘to figure out where the refinery team are. If they were in the control centre, they’d have answered Endeavour’s hails.’
Valance frowned. ‘Are we too late?’
Thawn’s lips thinned. ‘Maybe. But it’s odd if the D’Ghor got to the control centre, killed everyone, and didn’t lift any of the lockdown protocols. They’ve not been touched since before we received that last distress call. With those unaltered, the D’Ghor have to force their way through every door.’
‘Perhaps the refinery team fell back to a more defensible location,’ suggested Rhade.
‘Or a more sensitive one,’ said Valance.
‘Yes, quite, sirs,’ said Thawn, a little peevishly, and Valance realised they’d been pointing out the obvious as she was trying to work. ‘Thankfully this facility answers to Starfleet codes, though I’m having to do a bit of work to get the system to let me input them without lifting the whole lockdown.’
‘Don’t we want that?’ said Rhade. ‘Or we’ll be carving through doors, too, and the D’Ghor have a head start.’
‘If I lift the lockdown, the D’Ghor - wherever they are - can move freely with that head start. If I do it right, I can isolate the exact systems we need to get information or to proceed, temporarily reactivate them, and then seal them behind us.’ Thawn looked up between them. ‘If you want to start carving through the doors here, be my guest, I’ll be working on this anyway.’ Lieutenant Thawn was not what anyone would ever call easy-going, reflected Valance, hardly a savant in relaxation herself. But the dressing-down from Rourke had clearly left her on-edge, desperate to prove her worth again, her eagerness to please her superiors raising its slightly-desperate head again.
So Valance knew she was playing with fire when she looked at Rhade and said, ‘Get Seeley and Baranel carving through this door so we’re ready to move as soon as we have a heading.’
But before that was completed, Thawn made a small noise of satisfaction. ‘I thought so! Commander?’ Valance turned back, Rhade hovering nearby, and Thawn expanded her tricorder’s holo-projection to show them both the internal map of the refinery. ‘I think they’re in ore processing. That’s where the uridium that’s been fully extracted is still raw; it’s at its most volatile.’
Rhade frowned. ‘They’re sitting on a volatile payload for safety?’
‘They’re probably afraid the D’Ghor would use it to blow up the whole refinery,’ mused Valance. ‘From there, the ship could likely pick a full cargo bay’s worth out of the wreckage with transporters anyway. And they might do that if they were regular, if cold-blooded, pirates. The workers probably don’t realise that they’re the prize.’
Thawn nodded, fingers flying across her holo-display’s input. ‘I don’t have comms, but I’ve pinged a notification of our arrival to the systems control up there with my Starfleet tag. They know we’re on our way and can flag and more quickly process my access requests to get through doors, turbolifts, all that.’
‘That makes everything much easier,’ said Valance. ‘Good work.’
Thawn beamed as Rhade said, ‘And the D’Ghor?’
She bit her lip. ‘It looks like they’ve realised where the staff are; they were heading for main control but ten minutes ago changed direction. At their current speed they could be at ore processing in twenty minutes.’
Valance looked at the map, and nodded. ‘Then let’s hurry if we’re going to beat them there.’
This should have been a heaving, thriving structure. At least its emptiness made progress easy, so long as they waited a minute for Thawn to flag and open each door, insisting on thoughtfully sealing it behind them. Valance was less sure on that part, in case they needed a speedy getaway, but they also didn’t need more D’Ghor landing and coming up the open way behind them. The Hazard Team took point as they proceeded down the wide corridors made for heavy lifters loaded with ore, or large equipment moving about, and the Elgatis Refinery boasted turbolifts that could easily contain the eleven of them.
‘This lift,’ Thawn said at their third swap, ‘will take us straight to ore processing. So I’m notifying the staff we’re coming. D’Ghor look like they’re about five minutes away.’
‘Do you have any idea how many there are?’ asked Valance as they trooped into the large cargo turbolift, which at once brought them rushing through the dank belly of the well-worn refinery complex.
‘D’Ghor?’ She bit her lip. ‘Somewhere in the region of two-dozen.’
Rhade cleared his throat. ‘If any of the refinery team can fight and we’re in a defensive position, that’s not as bad as it sounds,’ he said.
‘These are miners, Lieutenant,’ Valance reminded him. ‘This may be a frontier facility, but to match the D’Ghor’s numbers we’d need a dozen of the refinery staff able to shore us up competently. We’re anticipating closer to forty people here.’
Rhade subsided, chastened. ‘Then we’ll just have to fight hard.’
I would rather, reflected Valance, not fight at all. But if they had to evacuate that many civilians, get them all down to the King Arthur, the D’Ghor being this close would not make that easy.
Thawn piped up to break the gloomy tension. ‘Here we are.’
There was one good thing about their welcome as the lift doors to the ore processing centre slid open. The staff did have guns.
On instinct, several of the Hazard Team half-raised their rifles, but Valance had lifted her hands and stepped forward, wishing yet again she didn’t have ridges when she was trying to deescalate. ‘I’m Commander Valance, USS Endeavour. We’re here to get you to safety. Is Foreman Compton here?’
The ore processing centre was a large control room, most of the panels on it still dark. Straight ahead were wide windows overlooking the main foundry chamber, the storage facility one of the natural caves of the asteroid protected by a magnetic field. Even from here, they could see the belt stretching beyond and, in the distance, brief sparks of light Valance thought might be Endeavour and the Kut’luch’s roiling battle.
To their right loomed large double doors, shut and sealed and with four of the refinery staff keeping their weapons trained on them. The other four inside lowered their weapons as they realised the new arrivals were Starfleet, and a stringy human with a patchy, greying beard holstered a pistol. ‘I’m Compton. You all took your time.’
‘The D’Ghor aren’t just outside this room,’ said Valance, stepping forward and gesturing for the Hazard Team to secure the chamber. ‘They’re in the belt as well. My ship’s engaging theirs as we speak. Is this everyone?’
Compton shook his head and jerked a thumb at a hatch on the other side of the main doors. ‘I’ve got thirty of my workers back there in, well, a storage room. Some are injured.’ He sighed at her expression. ‘D’Ghor bastards decloaked almost on top of the facility and immediately opened fire. Just one shot, right at the docking bay our biggest freighter’s been sat waiting for us to evac on. No idea if she can still fly, but we didn’t have time to put out fires or clear a path, and some folks were near the blast. Between that and a battlecruiser being out there, we decided to hunker down instead of run.’
‘You were right to,’ said Valance. ‘We’re only minutes ahead of the D’Ghor who’ve boarded. We have to get you to our runabout and go.’
‘You mean leave here and fly on a runabout into a live firefight?’ said Compton sceptically. He nodded at the turbolift. ‘And that won’t hold everyone.’
Valance looked over, and her heart sank as she realised he was right. They could fit a dozen people in there, maybe fewer with the injured. Then a minute’s journey for the lift to go as far as it needed to, and another minute back. There was no way everyone would be out before the D’Ghor arrived.
She gestured to Compton to wait, and headed across the control room to Rhade and Thawn. ‘Lieutenant Thawn, how certain are you all the boarding party are together?’
Thawn shook her head unhappily. ‘I’m not.’
‘We can’t get everyone out of here before the main group arrives, and if we send away who we can, they’ll need defending, giving us fewer hands here to protect the majority.’ Valance looked at Rhade here. ‘Or we consolidate our forces here, and if the D’Ghor win, everyone dies.’
‘Even if we split up, if the D’Ghor win, everyone probably dies,’ he said levelly. ‘They’ll have access to here and the lift and stand a good chance of running them down. If we split up and we win, any routed D’Ghor will be wild in the facility with under-protected civilian groups out there.’ Rhade shook his head. ‘I suggest we forget evacuating. From here we can hold a defence. If we can’t eliminate the D’Ghor, we only need to protect this location until Endeavour prevails and brings reinforcements.’
Valance watched him for a moment, then let out a deep breath and nodded. ‘Agreed. Prepare the team a defence, Lieutenant.’ She turned back to Compton and the improvised security detail he’d put together, none of whom looked particularly qualified with their old-fashioned phaser and disruptor rifles. ‘We’re going to protect you from the D’Ghor here, and move only once the refinery is secure. If any of you want to help fight, you can hold a rear line with your weapons along that bank of controls.’ She gestured accordingly, then let her gaze across each of them. ‘But understand: the D’Ghor are a serious enemy. We’re Starfleet, and it’s our job to protect you. You are letting nobody down if you stay out of our way and move to the storage room with your colleagues to protect them from there.’
Compton scoffed. ‘If the D’Ghor break in there, we’re already screwed.’ He rolled a shoulder at the refinery staff. ‘Come on, niblets. Let’s shoot Klingons like it’s the good old days.’
Valance tried to not stare at him for that, but it seemed enough to make the armed civilians fall in line. She sighed and turned to Thawn. ‘That offer goes for you, too, Lieutenant.’
The young Betazoid looked pale, but shook her head. ‘I knew the risks of this mission.’
‘You didn’t volunteer, I selected you for it. Have you ever been in a real fight?’
Thawn hesitated. ‘I’ve been on a couple of away missions that went wrong, but… not really, no, Commander. But Compton is right; if the D’Ghor get past this room, it’s already over. I’m more trained than these civilians who’re volunteering to stay. How do I go hide in the back room?’
Valance wanted to tell her that pride had no business here, that she was a systems operator who’d been trained at self-defence half a decade ago, and that what was coming was ten times worse than any simulation or rowdy away mission. But she knew she didn’t have time, and just gave a stiff nod. ‘Then stay by me, and watch my back.’
Rhade had been deploying the Hazard Team, and was looking in her direction when she turned. ‘Ready for action, Commander.’
‘Then assume positions,’ said Valance. ‘And make ready for enemy contact.’
The thud at the door of the D’Ghor starting to break through came less than a minute later.
* *
‘I’m having to stick to phasers,’ Kharth said as Endeavour shuddered under them. ‘Too many small asteroids for torpedo use.’
‘Keep doing what you’re doing, Lieutenant,’ Rourke said, gripping his armrest. ‘We’ve got them on their heels.’
‘Their gamble isn’t paying off, Captain,’ Airex confirmed. ‘Most of the asteroids here are small enough that our navigational deflectors are compensating.’
‘Yeah, we’re good,’ said Drake, sounding confident. ‘Only a ten percent loss in maneovurability compared to the less-dense bits.’
‘Again, steady as she goes,’ Rourke reminded. ‘Update on the Kut’luch?’
‘Their shields are down to ten percent,’ said Kharth. ‘Helm, if you bring us about their aft, I can focus fire on their impulse engines, stop them from even thinking of getting away.’
‘Clip the wings and we can finish them,’ said Rourke, nodding. ‘This is an opportunity for intel.’
‘Piece of cake,’ said Drake. ‘Bringing us around to… huh.’
Rourke cocked his head. ‘I need more than confused noises.’
Airex’s console bleeped. ‘They’re cutting power from all systems to boost their shields.’
Kharth scoffed. ‘That won’t buy them more than a minute if they’re a sitting duck.’
‘Finish them quickly, Lieutenant,’ said Rourke, jaw tight. ‘They’re up to something -’
‘Belay that!’ Airex’s head snapped up. ‘Helm, get us out of -’
Navigating an asteroid belt rich in uridium wasn’t much more difficult or dangerous than navigating any other asteroid belt, so long as one took some standard precautions. Filtered certain high-energy wavelengths out of phasers, ensured energy output from deflectors were low, made some mundane alterations to standard nacelle and impulse engine emissions. Anything, really, which ensured the raw uridium was not exposed to the significant electrical charges it took to react and detonate. Even then, the odd pocket of uridium exploding was something a ship could evade or weather. Except the Kut’luch had slunk into a section of the belt with some of the densest deposits, then killed all systems in order to boost her shields.
Almost all systems. Even as Drake obeyed Airex without thinking, even as the viewscreen began to swing as Endeavour turned, Rourke could see the Kut’luch’s ramscoop open to vent as much electromagnetically-charged plasma as it could across the densely-packed asteroids.
And the viewscreen turned white as the uridium all around them detonated.
Rourke’s wrist throbbed as he picked himself up off the deck of the bridge. Lights were dim, the best illumination coming from the weak pulse of an emergency strip at the rear of the room. Smoke billowed from the slagged mess of the operations console, and it took him a moment of squinting to tell what was obscuring his vision, and what was just his head spinning after the blast. Even as he crawled up there was little movement about him; it looked like Drake was the only officer who’d kept or recovered his post, the young helmsman shouting a report that Rourke’s ringing ears couldn’t hear.
When the lights changed as he hauled himself up by the command chair’s armrest, he thought he must have hit his head. Then the pockets of gleaming red scattered across the bridge faded to leave hulking shadows in their place - shadows that lunged.
Once, a long time ago, Matt Rourke had fought Jem’hadar who shimmered out of nothingness with plasma weapons blazing and gave no quarter. It was only that embittered, quarter-century-old experience that had him react before one of the Klingon warriors who’d boarded his bridge impaled him on a mek’leth.
He twisted aside and grabbed the first thing which came to hand, which turned out to be the first-aid kit nestled in a compartment of his command chair. Unwieldy and heavy, it was still good enough to be slammed into the Klingon’s wrist, knocking the strike away. And all concerns of his bridge crew, his ship, his mission, faded away for his world to become one of narrow, vicious survival. Somewhere, someone screamed, and though they could have only been metres away, it could have been light-years for all Rourke could know or care in that instant.
The Klingon was bigger than him, and gleaming lights showed a vicious snarl and streaks of silver in hair and beard. His lunge had been opportunistic, but at Rourke’s fast reaction, at the challenge, the warrior grinned and struck again.
Rourke was beaten on reach and limited in space, so at once broke his own rule when fighting a Klingon, and got close. A duck under the swing brought him inside the warrior’s reach, and he slammed the medkit into his enemy’s chin. As the warrior reeled, Rourke grabbed the d’k tahg knife sheathed at his hip, and brought it up in a vicious jab.
The first blow glanced off heavy body armour, then the warrior dropped his mek’leth to grab Rourke’s wrist with both hands. And now he remembered why he didn’t get up close in a fight with Klingons, as the burly warrior’s superior strength, iota by iota, twisted Rourke’s arm aside. He would not win a contest of pure force.
So he jabbed his fingers in the warrior’s face instead, gripping and clawing as he found nostrils, eyes, twisting his thumb away from teeth. The warrior howled and released him, falling back a step with blood now pouring from an eye, and Rourke let himself draw half an easy breath again. Now he had the knife and his enemy had no weapon.
But before he could push his advantage, or before he could take stock of the site of battle his bridge had become, a second warrior came barrelling out of the smoky darkness at him. And the odds were back to terrible.
* *
‘Get me information,’ Valance said, voice flat yet ringing loud in the control room over the blazing sound of the D’Ghor trying to slag the door’s seal with their disruptors.
‘I can’t see anything from here, and this is ore processing, Commander,’ Thawn said in a panic as she hunkered behind a console, hammering her tricorder’s interface. ‘I’m trying to get through to Harkon, see if the King Arthur’s sensors have picked up anything.’
‘If your ship just got blown up,’ said Foreman Compton in a rather matter-of-fact way, ‘we’re pretty screwed, aren’t we.’
‘There’s no reason to think that explosion took out Endeavour!’ Thawn called back, voice shaky.
‘Sure as hell wouldn’t have done it any good,’ Compton pointed out.
‘If it was that big a blast,’ she countered, ‘then it would have taken out the Kut’luch too, surely.’
Thunk. There was a hiss at the door as one of the locking servos went, and Valance’s gaze was ripped from the smoldering sight of where the asteroid belt had ignited on top of both ships, and torn back to the present. ‘Forget my last. Focus on here and now.’
‘Stand by for contact!’ came Rhade’s clear, level voice. ‘Pick your targets, shoot ‘til they’re down. Remember how hardy Klingons are. Expect them to rush for melee.’
Beside Valance, Thawn snapped away her tricorder and wriggled up to pop over the control bank they were taking cover behind. She hefted her phaser pistol unhappily. ‘I didn’t think I wanted a rifle,’ she admitted.
‘You’re best using what you’re confident with,’ Valance replied, voice low. ‘That’s how you’ll be most effective.’
Thawn shifted her weight. ‘I didn’t think I wanted to be effective in a fight. It suddenly seems a lot more important.’
Then the doors blew in, and anything Valance could have said was lost in the haze of smoke and shooting.
The D’Ghor weren’t completely foolhardy. Just as the Hazard Team opened with phaser fire, so did the D’Ghor with their disruptors. But where Starfleet held position behind the makeshift shelter of the ore processing centre’s control banks, the Hunters charged after the opening salvo.
It was madness by any definition of tactics Valance knew. A breach like this was tough work for the attacker, Starfleet in a relatively entrenched position, the D’Ghor funnelled through a narrow access point. The answer still wasn’t, by her training, to brute-force the breach. The heavy fire from the Hazard Team showed why, as warrior after warrior charged, shooting wildly, trying to close the distance - and fell, one after another, to precise phaser blasts.
But not all. Even with their advantage, their steady shooting, there were still so many Klingons. One grabbed the warrior before him as he was hit, dragging him forward as a living shield, taking blast after blast as he advanced. Valance hefted her rifle, tried to aim for the head, but her shot went wide.
The warrior hurled his fallen foe over the makeshift barricade then lunged, flying into Shikar with full force, mek’leth gleaming. Both went down in a rolling scrap, and Valance’s only relief was that Shikar was next to T’Kalla, the Hazard Team’s best melee fighter. A flourish had T’Kalla’s extendable lirpa in hand, the edge swinging up to catch the Klingon in the neck, giving Shikar the heartbeat he needed to drive his energy baton into the enemy’s gut and blast him.
But it was a chink in the Hazard Team’s armour, however brief, and the D’Ghor kept coming. Two more warriors followed, and even as T’Kalla and Shikar recovered, they were in melee now, a roiling ruck nobody dared shoot into. Valance watched as Rhade made quick gestures, and Otero left his side to race towards the melee, combat baton drawn.
‘They’re being overrun,’ came Thawn’s strangled assessment beside her.
Valance’s initial reaction was to dismiss the young Betazoid’s assessment as inexperienced. Then two Klingons barrelled into Seeley and Kowalski, and now she didn’t have as many clear targets as she’d have liked. With gritted teeth, she slung her rifle and drew her mek’leth. ‘Cover me.’
The smoke billowing from the breached doors didn’t help visibility, and as Valance tore forward she found herself hoping Compton and his staff didn’t keep firing, now the front line was a mess of Starfleet and D’Ghor. She lunged over a control bank as a stray disruptor blast caught Otero and he fell, armour smoldering at the breaching energy. He did not rise again.
A swing of her mek’leth struck true, slicing into a gap in the armour of a warrior facing off against Seeley. The D’Ghor staggered, and Seeley’s hand-phaser came up, the high energy shot slagging half the armour. Valance grabbed the warrior’s pauldron to slice again, then twisted the body, kicking it at the next warrior, who was dropped by a snap-shot from Seeley as he reeled. The two women barely had time to make eye contact, Seeley barely having time to nod, before Valance whirled to face the fight.
Shikar and T’Kalla were back to back, the big Caitian and the tall half-Vulcan holding their own. Seeley had back-pedalled to take cover beside the fallen Otero, Nurse Voothe bent over him as she watched over them both. Baranel and Kowalski still had their rifles out, both of them adept at close-quarters shooting, propped up by the windows even as warriors bore down on them.
Which left Lieutenant Rhade holding the centre with Petty Officer Palacio. Rhade had his combat baton out, locked as Valance watched in a contest of wills against a bat’leth, before the Betazoid twisted his grip, disarmed his opponent, and then rammed the stun baton in the warrior’s face. But Palacio looked like he’d been jumped with his rifle still out, desperately using the barrel and handguard to parry strikes.
As Valance charged, the warrior knocked Palacio’s rifle aside and ran him through with a mek’leth. And then it wasn’t just the smoke that narrowed her vision.
Her shoulder hit the warrior, and they went down together. The butt of her mek’leth smashed into his face, and she felt a knife scrape across the left flank of her body armour. She ignored it to flip her weapon and bring the blade down into the D’Ghor’s chest, ending him.
She was back up as another D’Ghor bore down on Rhade and drove a knife at his shoulder. Though the strike was blunted by armour, the warrior’s blade came away bloody and the lieutenant fell to one knee. Valance’s mek’leth sliced into the D’Ghor’s thigh, bringing the Klingon down with a howl of pain. That was cut short with an upward swipe.
‘Half-breed!’
Valance whirled as a shape emerged from the smoke. Behind him, Kowalski was a moving shadow wrestling a Klingon as Baranel tried to shoot from his back, hands covered in blood. The edge of this warrior’s mek’leth dripped.
‘Our war-bands will sail to Gre’thor together, half-breed!’
A decade ago, Valance had looked at her every instinct that brought fire and strength, and banished it to somewhere far away where it could never cloud her judgement or muddy her reason. No more would she be the officer whose decisions were driven by guts and glory. No more would she risk anyone calling her ‘the Klingon officer.’
It took only two exchanges of parried blows for her twin hearts to pound hard enough to banish all that good judgement, all those walls of ice. Perhaps it was the surge of battle. Perhaps her people’s blood spraying from the warrior’s mek’leth onto her face. Perhaps the spots still in front of her eyes of the explosion in the asteroid belt that had consumed her ship.
He swung, she evaded, and then she was upon him despite his greater size. Her blows caught his arm, his chest, raking across armour. The haft of his blade was driven into her flank, something bursting with pain in her side. Their blades locked for a moment -
- then his legs swept hers out from under her. Only by an iron grip did she drag him down, too, and they became a rolling mass of muscle and blood. Valance was sure two more blows hit her side, but she barely felt them, by sheer will forcing the warrior onto his back. Her knee planted on his sword-arm, and before he could lash out, her mek’leth came down on his neck.
The smell of blood as he twitched and gurgled filled her nostrils, heady and iron. The world around faded as she leaned down and hissed, ‘I’ll see you there. But not today.’ And brought her blade down again. And again. And again.
* *
While Dathan didn’t know exactly what had happened when the ship rocked and went dead, she knew what would happen next. Which was why she had the CIC doors only half-open, the chamber shrouded in darkness behind her, and went completely unnoticed by the trio of Klingon warriors who stormed down the corridor.
Her first shot blasted a smoldering hole through one’s chest. Starfleet by default kept their phasers at the lowest reasonable energy settings to take an enemy out of a fight, hoping to stun them without killing them. Dathan had no such hopes, and was rewarded with an enemy falling to never rise again.
The others spun, one hefting a bat’leth, the other a rifle, and Dathan had to duck back as a disruptor blast splashed against the half-open CIC doors. That was on a low setting, and for a moment she squinted, confused.
Oh. They’d rather knock me down so they can fight me hand-to-hand. How barbaric.
She heard the thudding footsteps of a charge, and slammed her hand on the door controls to slide them open. Another snap-shot from her phaser downed the rifleman, while the charging warrior with the bat’leth, expecting to need to shoulder-barge the now-open doors, staggered into the darkness. She took a moment more to aim before she shot this one, not because targeting him even in the dark was hard - he was big and loud, after all - but she really didn’t want to hit a control panel. That would be an inconvenience.
Once the were down, Dathan kicked the bat’leth further into the darkness and searched them all, hoping for something useful like a mek’leth. Knives were all she found, and with a scowl, Dathan tucked two into her belt beside her holster. ‘A double blade doesn’t make you tougher,’ she sneered at the one who’d brought a bat’leth.
Sticking her head into the corridor again, there was no sign of movement. A display on the far wall told her to get to the lockdown point, and while Dathan didn’t have much faith in Starfleet to keep her safe, if a large boarding party found her she’d only keep the element of surprise for so long. Especially if bodies kept piling up outside the CIC. Phaser in hand, she set off at a jog, and when she rounded the corner at the next junction she heard the fighting.
Security had barricaded a section of corridor, crew from a few sections sheltering in the rooms guarded. Already they were set upon by charging Klingons, and Dathan realised the trio she’d intercepted had likely been trying to flank the barricade. Without thinking she broke into a sprint, joining the throng of Starfleet lining up to guard their crew. While disgust wound in her gut that some of this Starfleet were so weak they needed their comrades to die for them, the bulk of her venom still turned on the Klingons. Why would scientists, even those trained to defend themselves, be ready to take up arms against this savagery?
The security officer she recognised as Eli Juarez, Kharth’s deputy, clocked her as she reached the crowds. ‘Lieutenant! Get to shelter or grab a rifle!’ he called.
She grabbed his shoulder before he could turn back. ‘A few figured their way around and were coming to flank us. I took them out but there might be more.’
‘Took them -’ Juarez blinked at her. ‘Okay, grab Mytrik and - and two more, and watch our backs!’
Someone handed her a rifle, she wasn’t sure who, and already Crewman Mytrik and a couple of other security officers were detaching to take up position watching the way she’d come. But then a figure in a blue uniform, phaser in hand, staggered out of the doors to the shelter point and Dathan stared. ‘Counsellor, what are you doing?’
Carraway’s skin was obviously pale even in the emergency lighting. ‘Lieutenant, if you’re going to fight, too, I can’t -’
She slung her rifle and grabbed him by the front of his uniform. ‘This is going to get messy. Either you’re with me and we fight, or you go back inside. I can’t fight them and worry about you. You’re just a counsellor.’
He blinked. ‘You’re just an analyst.’ Carraway looked down at the knives in her belt, the phasers she’d grabbed. ‘It’s not your job, either, you’re not rated for this -’
A small part of Dathan considered keeping him here. Maybe the D’Ghor would get him, or she could give him a helping push, and the the realisation an officer who on-paper was barely combat-rated was saddling up for a fight without batting an eyelid could die with him. But she hadn’t been lying when she said she didn’t want to fight and watch his back. The Hunters of D’Ghor made it very easy to divide the universe into an ‘us’ and ‘them’ which made this entire ship of weak degenerates part of her ‘us.’
‘How about this?’ She pushed him gently but firmly back to the doors. ‘You go back inside and I promise we’ll have a session when it’s all over.’
Then a fresh cry came from the way she’d arrived. Dathan turned, unslinging her rifle, to see the D’Ghor coming. And without thinking she took position by the makeshift barricades with the Starfleet officers she’d come here to figure out how to manipulate and destroy.
* *
Someone on the bridge was screaming by the time Kharth was back on her feet.
The problem with defending a bridge against potential boarders who, if shields dropped, could beam right among them was space. Too many security in place, and the bridge became roiling chaos with no chance of telling friend from foe or bringing a phaser to bear on the enemy. For an enemy who craved battle up close and personal, it was a godsend. In the blink of an eye they were in the thick of it, blades slashing as Starfleet reeled to regain control.
A quick glance at Tactical showed both Endeavour and the Kut’luch were drifting. Despite the D’Ghor’s ignition of the uridium being intentional, their ship had not ridden the explosion out well. Already, Endeavour’s systems were springing back to life, and Kharth desperately hoped the boarders wouldn’t get to Engineering.
But that assessment took a heartbeat, and she didn’t have many of those to spare before someone died. Eight Klingons were fighting on the bridge, several already down, though Kharth could see fallen shapes of her colleagues as well in the gloom. Security guards fought three by the door to the conference room. At Comms, Arys wrestled another, and Kharth’s gut twisted as she saw the slumped shape of Lindgren across her console. Drake was still at Helm, flying as best he could with systems springing back to life while turning to take potshots with his phaser at a warrior with a disruptor. One was bearing down on Airex at Science, and the phaser in Kharth’s hand almost swung towards him when she realised Rourke had two Klingons on him.
This took a second heartbeat, which was, really, too many for a Chief of Security to waste. Kharth lifted her phaser and shot one of the Klingons fighting Rourke. But the warrior staggered, reeled - and while Rourke used that moment to stab at the other, the phaser blast wasn’t enough, and both warriors redoubled their efforts.
Standard phaser settings tried to keep a blast at a low enough strength to incapacitate without killing. It was rare that this wasn’t enough to take someone out of a fight. But not impossible when the target was a large, healthy, blood-raging Klingon. Kharth swore as she vaulted over Tactical and bore down on the warrior who’d taken a shot on the highest non-lethal setting, and kept fighting. ‘Captain!’
Rourke had just kicked the half-stunned one back, and Kharth arrived as the other lunged for him. She drove a boot into the back of his knee, then wrapped her arm around his chest from behind as he staggered, pinning him in place. The captain didn’t need telling twice, the d’k’tagh he’d stolen driven once, twice, thrice into the D’Ghor’s torso, and Kharth felt the warrior twitch before he went still.
She grabbed his knife as she kicked the body away, and she and Rourke both rounded on the staggered, but still fighting Klingon. For half a heartbeat the two Starfleet officers made eye contact, and Rourke had to barely give a nod before they launched as one. This time he drove the Klingon down, deflecting a stab with his forearm before he took the warrior’s legs out, and Kharth pounced. Klingon armour was very good, she reflected as her blade slid into the places where it was not.
Rourke helped her on her feet the moment this warrior stopped moving. Then she heard a gurgled cry from behind, and turned in time to see a D’Ghor drive his d’k’tagh into Airex’s gut.
‘Dav!’
She flew over the command chair and to the Science console. Kharth was not one to go toe-to-toe with a Klingon if she could help it, but this warrior hadn’t seen her coming. Her blade sank into his thigh, and as the warrior went down on one knee with a howl of pain, she cut it short with not one but two blasts of that wretched phaser into his chest in quick succession.
Probably enough to kill. But after she’d resorted to knives, it didn’t make much of a difference. And Kharth didn’t care much any more.
Airex had collapsed on his back, clutching his wounds, and she was on him in a moment. Around her she registered the boarders were being repelled, but that seemed very far away. Her hands came to his, trying to staunch the flow of blood that spilt through her fingers, and his wide, desperate eyes locked on her.
‘Dav, come on,’ she hissed, breathing shaky. ‘Stay with me.’
He croaked something inaudible, hands weakening, then tried again. ‘Airex…’
For one ridiculous second she thought he was correcting her. Then she realised, and looked back at the locations of the wounds. Something in her heart pinched. ‘No, Dav - he’s okay, the wound’s too high up, they didn’t get him - forget about the damn worm for a moment, okay? Focus on me, focus on my voice…’
Rourke was shouting orders, and Kharth realised they’d restored control of the bridge. Medics were pushing through, a nurse she didn’t recognise reaching her, flipping their medkit open and gently pushing her hands away from Airex’s wound to bring out a dermal regenerator.
‘I’ve got him, Lieutenant, you can let go…’
‘Kut’luch is turning tail, Captain!’ Drake called from Helm. ‘They’re running!’
Blood ringing in her ears, Kharth shakily got to her feet and staggered to Tactical. Ensign Athaka had moved to the Engineering section, shouting reports of Endeavour’s condition she wasn’t properly hearing. Arys moved to Science, another medic on the shape of Lindgren that Kharth didn’t dare look at.
Only when she set blood-soaked hands onto the Tactical controls to assess Endeavour’s situation inside and out did she realise this was what winning against the D’Ghor looked like.
Petty Officer Voothe was still administering medical aid to the Hazard Team by the time Ensign Harkon set the King Arthur back down on Endeavour’s deck. Valance turned from the cockpit door the moment she felt them alight, barely looking at Thawn. ‘Make sure the medical team knows to bring cadaver pods,’ she called as she left, and slid down the ladder to the belly of the runabout.
They had not evacuated Compton and his people, because the moment they’d re-established contact with Endeavour, shuttles with security and medical teams had been dispatched and the Hazard Team ordered to return. Valance had considered staying on the refinery, but with Thawn a pale mess and Rhade injured, she’d instead left Kowalski to perform any handover and put her duty to the team first.
The team which was a state. Voothe was still hunkered next to Rhade, dermal regenerator hard at work on the vicious cut that had dug through body armour into his left shoulder.
‘We’re here, Petty Officer,’ Rhade was grumbling as Valance descended. ‘I can walk out on my own; see to those who need it.’
Voothe’s lips thinned, but he snapped his tools away. ‘I have, Lieutenant. And I’ll hand you directly to Medical.’
‘Do as Voothe says,’ said Valance tonelessly, and looked beyond him to the other four members of the Hazard Team. T’Kalla had popped the hatch, bringing the heavy door down completely to provide a stairway to the shuttlebay instead of expecting them to clamber the ladder in their state. That would be difficult for Baranel, leg already set in an emergency splint, being assisted upright by Shikar. Rhade got up with the help of Voothe and Seeley, the left side of her face still a mask of blood and bruises. Valance waved them all ahead, Rhade limping off with near-palpable reluctance, and they descended to the waiting arms of Endeavour’s medical team.
Except for four blue-shirted officers who boarded after them to retrieve the two bodies. Valance didn’t leave until they were gone, ginger as she herself descended to Endeavour’s deck.
Rourke stood waiting beside the medical officers as they swarmed across the Hazard Team, his uniform and face showing the signs of his own fight. His expression had been neutral as he watched, but then he saw her and his jaw dropped. ‘Good lord.’
Only then did Valance look down and realise how much blood she was covered in. ‘Most of this isn’t mine.’
Rourke tore his gaze from her to the two cadaver pods. ‘Who’d we lose?’
‘Otero and Palacio. No civilian losses. Maybe three D’Ghor survivors; I left Kowalski to help Security secure the refinery. Foreman Compton still can’t leave the facility until they’ve finished their work.’
Rourke worked his jaw. ‘Otero was married.’
‘And Palacio was young. Two losses against what we fought was…’ She almost said ‘good,’ but even the sinking numbness couldn’t let that slip past her lips. She cleared her throat. ‘It could have been worse. What happened to the Kut’luch?’
‘They detonated the uridium on purpose; they couldn’t outmatch us in a fight and hoped to disable both ships so they could board.’ Rourke’s voice was also rather mechanical. ‘We were a tougher nut than they expected. Boarders were repelled, and the Kut’luch ran. They were in a terrible condition too with the explosion, but after the damage to our power grid with their mine, we couldn’t chase them down.’ A muscle twitched in the corner of his jaw. ‘They got away.’
Valance let out a slow breath. ‘Our priority here was saving Elgatis Refinery. We did that.’
‘It would have been worse if not for Drake,’ he continued, almost without thinking. ‘He kept his post even when D’Ghor were swarming the bridge and the Kut’luch was trying to take out our weapon systems. If he hadn’t kept us flying, they might have clipped our wings and picked us apart, instead of turning tail.’
‘Swarmed the - how bad was the boarding?’
Rourke’s gaze went distant. ‘Otero and Palacio make thirteen dead. Not counting the six we lost two days ago.’ Valance’s shoulders sank at the news, but he kept talking, sounding like he was forcing himself to speak. ‘Those were all below in the uridium explosion or the boarding; lockdown points held, but Security took losses. The bridge was…’ He turned back to her and, as if it took a great effort, looked her in the eye. ‘Elsa was badly wounded. And so was Airex. They’re both in Sickbay.’
The strings it felt had been holding her up since the haze of battle had faded, since she’d let go of the D’Ghor war-leader and realised the fighting had ended while she’d killed him, twanged and threatened to break. ‘How badly?’
‘They’re fighting to save Elsa’s left arm. Commander Airex is still critical.’ He reached out, bringing a strong hand to her elbow she hadn’t realised she needed, but her left side screamed with sudden pain at even this very slight pressure. His eyes widened. ‘Let’s get you to Sickbay. That’s not all your blood.’
‘I think I broke a rib,’ said Valance, the words tasting acidic. ‘Did we capture many D’Ghor?’
‘Your three brings us to nine, all in the Brig.’ Rourke began to steer her across the shuttlebay, and Valance didn’t register that Thawn only stuck her head out the King Arthur’s hatch once they, along with the Hazard and Medical Teams, began to depart. ‘We’ll conduct interrogations but I don’t expect them to know much, even if they’d be inclined to volunteer it.’
‘No,’ Valance agreed. ‘If this Kuskir is keeping his base of operations a secret, warriors boarding enemy ships won’t know the location. But they may know the Kut’luch’s next move.’ Her nostrils flared as they reached the corridor. Even down here near the shuttlebay, the ship smelled different, the smoke like scars and blood of all she’d weathered. ‘The leader of the warband on the refinery seemed to have some rank, but I - he didn’t survive.’
Rourke gave her a cautious sidelong glance. ‘We knew the D’Ghor would fight to the death where possible. It’s almost like the Jem’hadar as a commitment, except the Jem’hadar’s discipline makes the D’Ghor a… different kind of horrific. It sounds like it was vicious on the station, Commander. Don’t blame yourself for fighting to win.’
‘Captain!’
Valance felt even more unsteady at the familiar voice, and they both turned to see Cortez jogging down the corridor towards them, sleeves rolled up, engineering kit slung over one shoulder, brandishing a PADD. The engineer slowed down, eyes widening at the sight of Valance. ‘Karana - I didn’t know you’d landed, what the hell happened -’
She lifted her hands. ‘I’m alright -’
‘I’m getting her to Sickbay.’ But Rourke sounded more brusque than reassuring, and let go of Valance to turn on Cortez. ‘What’s our status?’
‘That’s what I came to discuss - I called the bridge but it’s just Saeihr up there, and we need to talk -’
‘Good, then let’s talk.’ He set his hands on his hips. ‘How soon can we be underway?’
Cortez stared. ‘Hours, sir. Maybe a day. Our impulse engines are shot, right now we can’t do better than Warp 3, and I’m having Connor move us at a snail’s pace to get out of the belt with our navigational deflectors in the state they’re in. We’ve got multiple deck breaches, including the repairs I did to Deck 7 which blew with the explosion, our lateral sensor array is still offline…’
‘Warp 3’s good enough,’ he said. ‘The Kut’luch probably can’t make that, and definitely not if they’re cloaked.’
‘Sir, you want us to go after them? We’re in no state for a fight.’
Rourke took a step forward, and the diminutive Cortez had to crane her neck to look him straight on. ‘They’re wounded,’ he said, voice a low rumble. ‘And on the run. We catch up to them in open space, it’s only a few barrages of torpedoes and they’re done for.’
‘You think,’ said Cortez, brandishing her PADD. ‘Sir, we can’t get much power to the deflector, and we have sections of the ship that are exposed or have pretty much all armour stripped away by now.’
Valance felt her head spinning as the fading adrenaline continued to reveal every one of her scrapes, cuts, bumps, and probably-broken ribs. But neither appeared to have remembered her as Rourke shook his head. ‘If they’re given a chance to go to ground before we catch them -’
‘If they find even one friend by the time we catch up with them - sir, we’re in no condition for a fight! I didn’t like us going into a fight after the mine, but I knew Elgatis was an emergency!’
‘You patched us up then,’ Rourke rumbled. ‘And you’ll do it again. This Gaveq has killed a lot of people, and if we let him through our fingers now he will do it again. Do you understand that, Commander? Can you step up when I need you to, or do I have to go tell Lieutenant Adupon?’
Cortez rocked back, but her eyes narrowed at the implication. ‘It’s because I’m qualified that I’m telling you this, sir. Commander?’ This last was issued at Valance, the engineer cautious to keep her tone level, but clearly entreating the XO to weigh in.
But Valance hardly heard her. She pressed a hand to her side, winced, and turned away. ‘I… need to be in Sickbay.’
‘I’ll get you there, Commander,’ Rourke said, but jabbed a finger at Cortez as he left. ‘They slaughtered civilians. They drew us here for this fight, they would have killed everyone in that refinery if we hadn’t stopped them, and they killed thirteen of our own. We’re ending this.’
Cortez faltered. ‘Thirteen? It was eleven…’
But Rourke had taken his statement and her reeling as the end of the conversation, and Valance hadn’t made it many stumbling steps down the corridor before he caught up with her, the hand now at her back to steady without putting pressure. ‘One foot in front of the other, Commander,’ the captain said, voice again that low, intense rumble. ‘We’ll get you patched up. Then we’re getting back into the fight.’
Sickbay had moved from controlled chaos to the dull hum of steady activity, as Doctor Sadek and her team rotated through the dying and critical to the wounded unlikely to suffer long-term consequences, however unpleasant their circumstances. It was only now that Kharth dared venture in, and not just because she’d spent the past hours with Drake on the bridge trying to hammer out a likely heading and destination for the damaged Kut’luch. She knew better than to be another body taking up space.
And still Sadek clocked her the moment she arrived, the CMO stopping on her whirlwind tour of biobeds stacked with bloodied, beaten officers. ‘He’s at the back,’ she said without missing a beat. ‘Don’t get in anyone’s way.’ Had Sadek been anyone else or the crisis any lesser, Kharth might have been defensive. Instead, she just nodded and shrugged past the medical staff further into Sickbay.
She only stopped because she almost walked into Ensign Arys, stood at the foot of a biobed and not moving when she’d expected him to. ‘Ensign, what’re you…’ But her voice trailed off as she looked to the bed, and her gaze brightened. ‘Lindgren.’
Elsa Lindgren was a rather pale bundle, her shoulder strapped up in a case-like isotropic restraint. ‘Hey, Lieutenant. I hear we won.’
Kharth pasted a tight smile as she remembered scrubbing Dav’s blood off her hands in the bridge’s bathrooms. ‘Kicked the Klingons off the ship and sent the Kut’luch packing. We’ll run them down and finish the job. How’re you?’ Her gaze flickered to her shoulder.
‘Uh, drugged up, so everything seems pretty good.’ Her smile was thin but sincere. ‘Doctor Sadek says they managed to save my arm. Apparently it was almost carved off, but the really good news is that I don’t remember any of it.’
Arys shifted his feet. ‘That’s for the best,’ he rumbled.
Lindgren sighed. ‘Lieutenant, will you tell Tar’lek to stop fussing?’
Kharth looked between them, eyebrow quirked, before settling on Arys. ‘Does she know you saved her life?’ Arys froze, and had she been in a better mood, she might have teased him more. She turned back to Lindgren. ‘You were set upon pretty quickly, but Arys was right there. Stopped them from finishing you off.’
Arys flushed again, his voice low. ‘I wasn’t there for the captain, though.’
‘I reviewed the bridge assault footage.’ In an obsessive, compulsive manner where her only conclusion was that she should have recovered from the explosion sooner. ‘Captain Rourke had his fight under control. Lieutenant Lindgren was about to be murdered in front of you. And then that warrior would have moved on anyway. Even ignoring that you had a split-second to decide - your decision was right.’ She clapped him on the shoulder and stepped back. ‘Enjoy being the hero.’
She had no idea what the situation was between the two of them, and didn’t much care. That was now their problem.
Her problem lay on a biobed near the private rooms for serious treatment, and Kharth’s breath caught as she took in the pale sight of the wounded Davir Airex. He looked smaller than she thought she’d ever seen him, reduced without his height and his presence. Still. Silent. But not alone.
Kharth’s gait was ginger as she stepped up to the biobed. ‘Is there a prognosis?’
Valance looked like she’d been through hell and hadn’t had much time to scrub up. She was still in the under-layers of her combat gear, patches of skin paler from where her wounds had been treated, barely cleaned and tidied. She did not look at Kharth, merely giving a stiff nod. ‘He was stabbed twice. Once in the stomach. The other punctured his lung, which collapsed. He lost a lot of blood. Sadek was working on him herself for a while -’
‘Prognosis,’ Kharth pressed, hearing the detached tone in Valance’s voice.
She faltered. ‘He’ll be alright,’ she said at length. ‘He’s sedated and they want to keep him in for a few days. Then time off-duty to rest.’
‘Time to rest. Are we allowed that?’ Kharth sighed. ‘Do you know when he last spoke to his mother?’
‘His mother? Why?’
Kharth frowned. ‘They talk weekly. She’ll worry if he misses a call; she should probably be told what’s happened and that he’s going to be alright if he’s going to be in here for another few days.’
Valance turned to her, gaze quizzical at last. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s not close to his parents.’
‘That’s ridiculous, he’s always… You’re saying he dropped out of contact with them?’ Her gaze snapped back to Davir Airex, silent and still on the biobed, before her focus fell to his abdomen. ‘What did that damn worm do to you, Dav?’ Valance didn’t say anything, folding her arms across her chest, and again Kharth sighed, glancing at her. ‘If Doctor Sadek says he’s going to be fine,’ she said at length, ‘then he’ll be fine.’
Valance shifted her weight. ‘I know. He’s strong.’
‘He’s a stringy nerd, I mean Sadek knows what she’s talking about.’ But that seemed to kill whatever companionable cooperation had snuck up on the two women, and they fell into silences of their separate contemplation, their separate fears.
This was how Cortez found them some time later, sliding up in between. She took Valance’s hand, but still reached up to squeeze Kharth’s shoulder, a bridge in the rift. A quick glance showed the bags under her eyes, the exhaustion tumbling off her in waves, but still she asked, ‘How is he?’
‘He’ll be alright,’ said Kharth. Valance was still watching Airex, jaw tight. ‘How’s the ship?’
‘I want a week in drydock,’ Cortez sighed. ‘More realistically? Three or four days somewhere safe. I need to at least forty-eight hours on low power to rebuild those plasma conduits. I’m going to get some rack time, but I thought I’d find you here.’
That last was obviously more to Valance, who didn’t reply. Kharth grimaced. ‘That’s a smart move,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
She didn’t particularly want to be here, at Airex’s bedside. She wanted to be here even less with the brooding spectre of Valance, who somehow radiated a territorial air over the man he now was, a physical representation and reminder that her history with him, or at least with Davir Hargan, was over. Work still pressed, but at least it gave her focus, and a few hours to roll back the blazing exhaustion would get her back fit enough.
But she heard Cortez say something quiet to Valance as she left, and the engineer caught up at the Sickbay doors, following her into the corridor. ‘Alright,’ said Cortez, ‘so I don’t want to drag Karana into this because God knows I want her to get five seconds of winding down after whatever the hell happened on that refinery. But you gotta help me, Sae.’
‘I have no idea what I’m supposed to help you with if you won’t go to her.’
‘The captain’s gone mad,’ Cortez said flatly. ‘He didn’t listen to me, and I’m not going to ask Karana to sing the same song unless I absolutely gotta. But he trusts you, he listens to you, especially as a tactical officer. We should talk to him.’
Kharth stopped, turning to squint at her. ‘About what?’
Cortez stared. ‘We can’t go after the Kut’luch. Are you kidding? Right now if we run across so much as a stellar road-bump we could blow another plasma array. That on its own could sink us, let alone if we’ve got a goddamn battlecruiser on top of us.’
‘The Kut’luch is nearly dead in the water, she’s limping. We may not get another chance like this to finish her off.’
‘Or get finished off. If she gets one good shot in, if we make one mistake, we could be toast.’
‘First, I disagree with that tactical appraisal. Second - we won’t make a mistake.’
‘Yeah, ‘cos everyone’s so bright-eyed and bushy tailed!’ Cortez waved her hands up and down the corridors. ‘Or what if they pick up a friend? Are you kidding me, Sae?’
Kharth straightened. ‘The captain said that we keep hunting. So I hunt.’
‘You can’t…’ Cortez shut her mouth, lips thinning, before she tried again. ‘Sae, I don’t know what happened between you and Airex, I don’t know what your history is, I don’t understand why it seems to have screwed you up this badly. But you can’t let him being hurt override your judgement -’
‘This isn’t about Dav,’ said Kharth, and was surprised to find she didn’t think she was lying. ‘And don’t imply I’m being that unprofessional. Captain Rourke gave us our orders.’
Cortez’s shoulders slumped. ‘They’re not reasonable orders.’
‘That’s not your judgement to make, and it’s not my judgement to make. And if they were as outrageous as you claim, why the hell has Valance not done anything? If the Kut’luch gets away, we have to live with it. Others won’t get that luxury, and we’ll never know them, and we’ll never see them.’
‘Since when were you this stickler for orders? Since when were you giving Rourke the benefit of the doubt?’
‘Since when weren’t you? And I can be mad at the captain for Rhade and for Dathan, but that’s small stuff. That’s everyday stuff. This? This is a hard, hard choice he’s making, to finish our duty in the face of overwhelming odds. We’re his senior staff. What are we to do except make the whole damn galaxy bend if our captain asks us?’ Kharth shook her head. ‘This isn’t your research lab, and I know you know your stuff better than that, Isa, but it’s time for you to buckle up and be a miracle worker again.’
‘I don’t -’ Cortez hesitated. ‘What if I’m all out of miracles, Sae? We can’t willpower our way through impossible situations.’
‘You did.’ Kharth watched her a moment, and tilted her head. ‘Rerouting a plasma conduit when it could have killed you. You might have died anyway, passed out in those temperatures. Shouldn’t have been done, nobody thought it would be done, and instead you saved half the ship. The universe doesn’t have a finite amount of luck, Isa. We make that luck.’
Her gaze was guarded. ‘Everyone has limits. Captain Rourke knows it.’
‘Captain Rourke,’ Kharth said as she stepped away, ‘won’t ask what we can’t give. So it’s on us to deliver.’
‘That’s not how that works!’ Cortez called as Kharth left, heading down the corridor. But she didn’t push it, and she didn’t argue more, and Kharth knew she’d got her. Just for a little bit more.
And all they needed was a little bit more.
If Sickbay smelled of sterile victory, the main Security Office smelled of exhaustion and blood. It was down here that some of the heaviest fighting had happened, the D’Ghor boarders descending on where they must have detected the biggest gatherings of life signs across several decks and sections as the offices became a lockdown point for dozens of crewmembers, guarded by her team.
While approximately half of Endeavour’s losses had occurred when the uridium explosion had rocked the ship, most of the rest had been Security officers, her officers, giving their lives to protect their shipmates. Blood still stained the carpets outside, the barricades pressed against bulkheads, but the offices themselves were now quiet. After all, now was time for them to stand down and rest or get patched up.
None of the few officers still on duty were unscathed. But if they were still here, double-checking the headcounts and the munitions use and the deck clearances, their injuries were minor. Kharth entered an office of people with small cuts and bruises, scuffed uniforms, and exhausted eyes, but it was not time yet to rest. That came when the Kut’luch was down.
Crewman Mytrik looked up from the display of the multiple ship decks she was studying with a tired expression. ‘Lieutenant; all decks clear, all boarders rounded up and Lieutenant Juarez is getting them stowed away in the Brig.’ She paused. ‘And, uh, you should probably stick your head in the Armoury locker room.’
Shit, thought Kharth distantly. I’ll need a new Armoury Quartermaster. But she could fret about Otero later; those were feelings she didn’t have time for. Mytrik’s rather awkward tone meant she didn’t ask questions, instead heading as directed through to the Main Armoury and the locker room beyond where security officers could suit up in gear ahead of contact. It was empty now, everyone either settled in to stay geared up or already signed off.
Almost empty. Kharth had to walk the rows of lockers before she found what Mytrik was talking about. Or, rather, who, as she reached a distant corner of the cold, metal, dark chamber, in this beating heart of ship’s security still far from the hubbub and aftermath of battle, to see the small shape of Rosara Thawn folded up on a bench beside a dumped pile of her gear.
She had her knees up on the bench, her head in her hands, and Kharth made sure her footsteps rang out as she approached. She reached the pile of gear and leaned down to pick up the armoured vest. ‘Someone will have to tidy this up after you,’ she said, uncertain how else to start.
Thawn dragged her hands down her face. Flyaway locks had escaped the tight bun she’d worn her hair in for the mission, and the grime and dust on her pale features were streaked with tear-stains. She didn’t look at her. ‘I’m sorry, Lieutenant; I’ll tidy in a minute.’
Kharth sank onto the bench opposite with an ache she hadn’t realised had made it to her bones. ‘How long have you been here? King Arthur was back hours ago.’
‘Oh.’ Thawn went still. ‘I didn’t mean to get underfoot. It was quiet in here. I had to return the gear and I sat down and…’ Her numb voice trailed off, then the unseeing eyes focused as they locked on Kharth. Her voice wavered. ‘Show me how to be angry again?’
Kharth’s brow knotted. ‘I didn’t show you how to be angry. I showed you how to channel it. Use it.’
‘Oh,’ she said again. Then, ‘I should be angry, though.’
‘What happened? I know the fighting on the refinery was vicious…’
Thawn shook her head softly. ‘They just came for us. They had to know most of them would get shot, but they didn’t care so long as they broke through to fight us, to get up close, to get in our faces…’
Kharth saw her gaze threatened to go back there, to whatever horrific sights on the Elgatis Refinery still called her away, and leaned forward. ‘Lieutenant. It’s over, you got through it. You fought them and you won.’
‘I didn’t…’ The faintness faded, and again Thawn looked at her. Detached horror became all more present in those dark eyes. ‘I shot at them as they charged. Stuns. That wasn’t enough too many times - why wasn’t that enough -’
Kharth’s gut tightened in recollection, and she shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It should have been.’ She scootched to the edge of the bench, and reached to put a hand on Thawn’s knee. ‘You don’t need to be choked up because you didn’t crank up your phaser settings to kill them, Lieutenant. That’s not something you’re trained for, and especially not if you risked shooting into melee -’
But Thawn shook her head wildly, legs drawing up in a move that pulled her away from her touch. ‘I didn’t… I was with the commander, but then she went in and the fighting started to spill over into a melee, and I…’ Her hands came to her face, not for more crying but as if she could push back the surging memories, shove them to some absent and distant place. ‘Great Fire, I just ducked behind cover as they were coming, and I clutched my rifle, and I - and I hid…’
‘You…’ Kharth straightened. ‘The D’Ghor overran the Hazard Team’s front lines. Some of them could have got past to the civilians fighting. To the civilians hiding.’ Her voice shook. ‘Otero and Palacio died. Baranel and Rhade are in Sickbay, and so many others are in Sickbay, and you, Lieutenant, you hid?’
Thawn shrank back. ‘I froze,’ she stammered. ‘I didn’t know what to do -’
‘Shoot them!’ Kharth was on her feet before she’d thought, her fury now enough to fill the locker room and seep into every dark corner Thawn had thought to hide in. ‘You’re a Starfleet officer with a damned phaser rifle and you’re trained to use it! You weren’t sent there on a scientific field trip! You weren’t there to be babysat by these officers - by my people - so you could crawl under a desk and hide and wait as they fought and bled and died!’
‘I’m not a combat officer,’ Thawn gasped, the edge of her voice nearly hysterical by now.
‘And what if you’d been on the bridge?’ Kharth thundered. ‘When the captain was attacked, when Lindgren got hurt, when Dav got impaled; would you have hidden then? Or would we have been lucky enough that your station overloading would have spared us your useless hide?’
If anger did one thing, it spurred whatever instincts that had made Thawn come here to hide now tell her to flee. She crawled to her feet, and bent down to grab her gear. ‘I’ll - I’ll stow this and go -’
‘I’ll do it,’ Kharth snarled. ‘You just get the hell out of my sight, Lieutenant.’
That sent her fleeing, doubtless a total state before the whole security office, but Kharth didn’t care, couldn’t care as her foot lashed out to kick the pile of combat gear Thawn had left behind. Body armour, empty holster, forearm brace; pieces all went skidding across the locke rroom floor, and as they flew away Kharth’s next kick was at the solid metal bench. That was a terrible idea, pain at once lancing up her foot, and with spat Romulan oaths she collapsed back on the bench, clutching her leg.
So now it was her turn to surrender to a dark corner of the ship, and hide away until her rage and terror and powerlessness faded enough that she might master them.
Valance’s gaze flickered across Lieutenant Juarez’s face as she entered the Brig. ‘You should get that seen to.’
Juarez rubbed a finger alongside the cut that still split his left eyebrow. ‘When Sickbay’s quieter, Commander. I’m still on my feet.’ Before she could press the point, he’d stepped out from behind the Brig’s main control panel and gestured down the central row of cells. ‘We’ve kept the forcefields opaque and sound-proofed; don’t want them communicating. They’ve been put together in pairs. But we identified who we think is the highest ranked of them, and separated him for you to talk. He’s down in 3-B.’
‘Injuries?’
‘He took four phaser blasts to go down and slept for about twelve hours. They all had to wait for medical help until Sickbay didn’t need the EMH any more. I’m not sending anyone into those cells against members of a death cult.’ Juarez began to lead her down the corridor. ‘EMH did find something in the blood-work which answers a few things, though. Like why some of them took so many shots.’
‘I assumed a combination of high physical fitness and adrenaline,’ Valance said. ‘Klingon physiology is remarkably resilient in the face of battle. We shouldn’t have been surprised some wouldn’t go down to anything less than a lethal shot.’
‘Especially,’ said Juarez, ‘when they’re pumped full of what look like adrenal stimulants. Medical’s got the analysis; couldn’t explain the details if I wanted to, but some sort of amphetamines, I think. Looks like it kept a lot of them going through, like you say, anything less than a lethal shot or blow.’
‘That’s a surprise,’ Valance allowed. ‘Regular use of such drugs takes a toll on the body most Klingon warriors wouldn’t want to pay. I expect the D’Ghor despise the idea of being Stunned, and want to fight to the death.’
‘And don’t expect to live long before they get their blaze of glory,’ he grumbled. ‘What’s going to happen with this lot?’
‘They’ll be handed to Imperial authorities as soon as possible. Don’t worry, Lieutenant, we won’t keep them aboard longer than we have to.’
‘We can handle them. I just don’t know what you do with people like this.’
Valance stopped as they reached the cell, expression neutral when she looked at Juarez. ‘I can take it from here.’
He hesitated, but reached to key his code into the forcefield to turn off the visual and auditory blockers. ‘Here if you need me, Commander.’
She only gave him a nod as he left. Then her eyes turned to the cell. ‘I’m Commander Valance,’ she said in a low and level voice. ‘First Officer of the USS Endeavour.’
The Klingon within was sat cross-legged, though she could still tell he was not one of the larger or more muscular warriors she’d met. But he was older, his face lined, hair streaked with grey. She might have wondered how they’d identified him as a leader were it not for his baldric, and the trophies which hung from it. Many of them were shards of metal, which at a glance she assumed were from ship hulls or the armour of foes. But there were also an awful lot of teeth.
Pale eyes opened to fix on her. ‘Atal,’ came the cool, calm voice. ‘Son of Vorka. Are you truly no warrior, then?’
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘As I said. I’m the XO. What is your position in service to Gaveq?’
‘I lead one of his war-bands. I led the war-band here.’ Atal’s gaze raked over her. ‘I do not know where Kuskir is.’
‘There are very few ways this ends, Atal, son of Vorka,’ she sighed. ‘But if you want a better option than being surrendered to the Empire, you can tell me everything you know about the D’Ghor operation in Archanis. From what you know about other ships, to what you know about the Kut’luch’s designs and likely next step.’
‘The alternative to the Empire is a Federation cell forever,’ he pointed out. ‘The Empire will give me death.’
‘They might -’
‘In their eyes, I am already dead. In their eyes, I am nothing. Which is why I give myself to D’Ghor. To Gaveq.’ His head tilted. ‘Is that why you give yourself to your captain? To Starfleet?’
‘My service is not like yours.’
‘A warrior may lend their blade to the Empire, but they fight for themselves. Their honour is for themselves.’ Atal shrugged. ‘We Hunters have nothing for ourselves.’
‘You have your blood-thirst,’ she pointed out, hotter than she meant. ‘You have a lust for battle and all you do is feed it.’
‘Some of my brethren. Yes.’ He shook his head. ‘Some would say they are free, and that with honour stripped away they are closer to the true hearts of Klingons. Others would say that by blood they will earn not Sto’vo’kor, but great renown in Gre’thor. The truth is simpler: All we are, are shells into which the D’Ghor pour their will. You are Klingon. Do you hold a warrior’s heart, a warrior’s honour?’
‘I am a Starfleet officer. Where is -’
‘You came to me, or were sent to me, to talk Klingon to Klingon,’ Atal snapped.
‘Perhaps.’ Her jaw tightened, because she knew now was not the time to dwell on that. ‘But I am an officer, not a warrior.’
‘Then you are a shell. Flesh and blood and rage and war, as any Klingon. But without a warrior’s heart or a warrior’s honour, you have nothing of your own - only the cause you are sent on. Starfleet. D’Ghor. Does it differ? Not to the Ferryman, who’ll take us both - shells, both of us - to Gre’thor. Sto’vo’kor’s gates open for warriors - their glory, their honour. Not the Empire’s. Not Starfleet’s.’
Valance hesitated. Then she rolled her eyes. ‘You slaughtered the people of Talmiru. We helped them. The difference is -’
‘You didn’t help them for long. And then you came after us. To kill us.’ Atal unfolded his legs and stood, long-limbed and more graceful than she expected a Klingon to be. ‘That is how this will end. We’re already dead - were already dead when the Empire banished us - and now all we wait for is the knife. And still, if all I am is a shell, I will not break myself and tell you what I know of Gaveq, of Kuskir. Truthfully, there is little I know. I am a hunter. I am sent to kill.’
Her heart tightened. ‘Any conversation you have had with Gaveq on his next move, any interaction you’ve had with anyone on any other ship. Tell me, and I will -’
‘What? Send me to a Federation cage forever? No.’ Atal took two swift, graceful steps to the forcefield. ‘However…’ His gaze flickered to the phaser at her hip. ‘Grant me a blade, and the freedom to conduct the Hegh’bat. And before I plunge the blade into my heart, I will tell you what I know.’
Valance took a step back. ‘The Hegh’bat is suicide for those who -’
‘Cannot stand and face their enemies as a warrior. I will never again be let free of this cage. It is as much an impediment to restoring my honour as infirmity.’ He tilted his head. ‘You win doubly, Commander. Starfleet learns what it wants. And your Klingon heart is fed by the satisfaction of watching me die.’
‘I don’t want to watch you die,’ Valance lied.
Atal scoffed softly. ‘You have my terms. Did you think I would abandon all I have left because you asked, Commander?’
‘I had thought that as a warrior, you might take the chance for one last honourable deed before your end,’ she said quietly.
‘I may fight. My brethren may fight. But we are not warriors.’ Atal swept a hand down the long line of Brig cells. ‘We are shells, with nothing but what the D’Ghor made us. Why would I sacrifice all that I have left for anything short of a chance at Sto’vo’kor?’
‘You know Starfleet will never allow you to kill yourself in one of our own cells.’
‘Not Starfleet. Perhaps a warrior.’ Atal stepped back, and in one languid move sank back to his cross-legged position on the deck. ‘But I see you are but a shell, Commander. I suppose I will see you in Gre’thor some day.’
With that he shut his eyes, and Valance stepped back with a curled lip. The bitter taste was back in her mouth, that numb adrenaline, and there was more of a stalk to her gait than she’d intended as she left. Juarez took one look at her storming past him, and he did not stop her.
She stopped in the corridor, and would have paused to gather her wits and catch her breath had her combadge not chirruped. ‘Bridge to Commander Valance,’ came Rourke’s voice. ‘Any luck down there?’
Valance rested a hand against the bulkhead and gave herself two thudding heartbeats of respite before she replied. ‘Negative, sir. They’ve no reason to talk.’
‘It was a long shot. But you’d better get up here.’ Only now did she hear that tired tension in her captain’s voice, and it made her straighten. ‘We’re still a couple hours out on the Kut’luch… but it looks like they’re not alone.’
‘Captain.’ Kharth’s tone was tense as she looked up from Tactical. ‘There’s a ship on an intercept course that appeared from nowhere. Likely decloaked. Looks like a Bird-of-Prey.’
‘I see it,’ Drake butted in. ‘Heading 327-mark-215. Probably came from across the border, pretty bold to uncloak so brazenly if it’s D’Ghor.’
Rourke pushed himself to his feet. ‘Or they want us to see them and change our course. Hail them.’ There was a faint pang as he looked to his left to see Bekk at Comms when he still expected Lindgren at a time like this.
The Ferengi shrugged a moment later. ‘Yeah, no response, sir.’
He looked back at Veldman at Science. ‘Do we still have the Kut’luch’s trail?’
‘If it is the Kut’luch, we’re only a couple hours behind them, sir,’ she said. It was not for sentimental reasons that, as he’d missed Lindgren, he missed Airex. His Chief Science Officer’s commitment to being right would have made him sound much more certain about an uncertain gambit, while Lieutenant Veldman sounded perfectly prepared to admit they could be chasing a mere sensor ghost.
‘If they sent company, that means we’re onto them,’ Rourke decided, sitting back down. ‘Red alert. Alter course to intercept, Helm. If they want our attention, let’s dispatch them quick and clean.’ He caught Valance’s steady look and gave her a brusque shrug. ‘There are worse things to be than aggressive when wounded. Hit them hard and fast, and they lose any advantage.’
If it went wrong, of course, he was careening a badly-damaged Endeavour into an enemy vessel of unknown status or strength.
He pressed the comms button on his armrest. ‘Bridge to Engineering. We’re about to hit a Bird-of-Prey; I’m going to need as much power as you can give me for a burst.’
Cortez’s disapproval was near-palpable even over comms. ‘We’ll do what we can, Captain.’
‘I expect nothing less.’ He cut the line and looked to Kharth. ‘Weapons free once we’re in range, Lieutenant.’
It looked like Rourke was right: the Bird-of-Prey had not expected Endeavour to turn into them for a direct challenge, not when they had a target to hunt and not when wounded. So Kharth’s opening salvo of phaser fire hit the newcomer hard, blasting a dent in their shields and forcing the D’Ghor to break off its direct approach.
‘They’re cloaking,’ reported Kharth, sounding like she wanted to swear.
‘Keep up the approach, Mr Drake,’ said Rourke, trying to sound level. In their condition, a cloaked ship could prowl about Endeavour and pick on whatever weaknesses in their shields and hull it wanted. ‘Don’t give them an easy time to manoeuvre around us.’
‘Issuing a few phaser blasts to try to drive them away from our weak points,’ said Kharth. ‘But I don’t want to drain our power array too badly.’
‘Science, get me estimations of their cloaked trajectory.’
‘Trying, sir.’ Veldman sounded a little reproachful. ‘But we’ve not got a lot of data on this ship and their engines seem in good enough condition to have very low emissions.’
You’re asking me to see through invisibility with no prep-work, Rourke internally translated. At least it was better than the wounded pride he’d have received from Airex. But before he could summon a retort, the ship bucked at the recognisable rumble of taking fire.
‘They’re -’
‘I see them,’ Kharth snapped over Veldman. ‘Locking on with phasers.’
‘If they try to cloak,’ said Rourke, ‘don’t be afraid to keep taking potshots. It just takes one to hit them when they’re unshielded to give them a really bad day.’
‘We’re gonna have a bad day if this keeps up,’ spat Drake.
Rourke gritted his teeth at the next burst of weapons fire as it raked their shields and rocked the ship. ‘Stay with them, Helm.’
‘Trying, sir - but our sensors aren’t making it easy to project their trajectory,’ Drake grumbled, and the deck surged as inertial dampeners took the briefest of moments to kick in fully at his manoeuvre.
‘Direct hit with our last phaser blast, sir,’ said Kharth crisply, ‘their shields are weakening, but - damn it.’ She hammered Tactical. ‘They’ve cloaked again.’
Valance’s lips thinned. ‘Do they mean to take us apart piece by piece?’
‘They mean to try.’ Rourke scowled, then hesitated. ‘No,’ he said as realisation sank in. ‘They mean to delay us. Lieutenant Kharth, focus on their engines. We don’t need to finish them; they just need to fail to keep us from chasing the Kut’luch.’
‘Aye, sir,’ said Kharth, but he could hear her caution. It was one thing to give the order. It was another thing entirely to carry it out on an enemy who was happy to be elusive if it meant taking their time.
‘Set shield power,’ he added, ‘to a randomised rotation. Don’t give them the luxury of one consistent weak spot that they can slink around to target in cloak.’ Cortez would have a field day with that drain, but she’d have a worse time if their shields were breached.
Drake swore a moment later. ‘They’re decloaking, sir, but sixteen kilometres off our starboard.’
Kharth groaned. ‘Still playing.’
Rourke clenched his fist. All this power I’m sitting on, and still I can’t finish a quick fight against one lousy Bird-of-Prey -
‘Sir?’ Veldman’s breath audibly caught. ‘Second Bird-of-Prey decloaking.’
* *
The purple painted hull of the Vondem Thorn stood out in a stark contrast to her original paint scheme and that which the D’Ghor bird of prey sported. As the ship’s outline shifted back into detectable wavelengths, she slid directly into a pursuit of the D’Ghor ship, accelerating from what had been a reduced speed.
The ambush wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough as the green bolts of the starboard disruptor lashed out at the D’Ghor ship’s shields, following by the harsh yellow-orange beam of the port phaser finally smashing through the shields, just in time for the ship to swerve off of it’s attack run on the Endeavour and more importantly to avoid any further damage.
Unfortunately the beam carried past where the D’Ghor had been and slammed against the shields of the Endeavour in a glancing hit before ceasing. It clearly wasn’t the sophisticated tracking beam setups of a modern Federation starship, but a mostly fixed direction beam system with a clearly limited range of motion in the emitter head.
“Trid, keep on them,” Sidda said as she gripped the arms of her command chair as the Vondem Thorn swerved into the chase, weapons giving a few more barks of fire at the fleeing ship before it slipped under its own cloak.
“They haven’t jumped to warp just yet,” Gaeda said from his station, monitoring the ship’s sensors for the very faint signature of a cloaked ship disappearing into warp. One couldn’t tell the direction or speed, just that it had happened in the momentary flicker of warp and cloak fields interacting.
“Cloak the ship. Trid, reduce speed and line us up for a second ambush. Let’s see if these people are idiots.”
“Aye ma’am,” the bajoran helmswoman said as she took the ship away from the Endeavour in a lazy circle back, reducing the ship’s speed back down and lining up on the stricken Federation vessel.
“Contact!” Gaeda shouted as he flicked what he had to both the helm and tactical. It wasn’t a confirmed sighting but an energy signature he could track. Clearly something wasn’t right on the D’Ghor ship.
No orders were given as Trid spun the ship around and Telin decloaked the ship before unleashing a volley of fire on the co-ordinates. Bolts of disruptor fire disappeared into space, dissipating in the distance, before a few connected solidly with something, the explosion of something under a cloak and unshielded evident for all to see. More fire rained in that location before shots started to miss once more.
“I’ve got an atmosphere trail on sensors,” Gaeda said. “327 mark 18, moving around a bit.”
* *
‘They’re winged,’ Kharth reported, voice taut.
‘D’Ghor ship is leaking plasma,’ Veldman volunteered from Science. ‘The KDF ship hit them hard; trying to track the D’Ghor through cloak but it’s... imperfect.’
Rourke scoffed, him and Valance saying, ‘That’s not a KDF ship,’ at almost the exact same time. He shook his head. ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Helm, let’s keep some distance so our new arrivals have space to fly. Science, give your best location extrapolations to Tactical.’
‘There’s no way I can hit them in cloak without a lot of luck,’ Kharth warned.
‘I don’t expect you to.’ He hammered quickly on the control panel beside his command chair. ‘Sending you a firing pattern now; let’s make the most of our more flexible targeting and try to keep them boxed in. Hopefully serving them on a platter for our friends when they decloak.’
The deck surged as Endeavour drew away from where there’d been the rolling dogfight between two Birds-of-Prey only seconds before. With time less of a factor, they were at their strongest forcing the D’Ghor to come to them, able to use their sophisticated targeting computers to pop at them the moment they decloaked, rather than keeping the up-close slugging match.
Valance leaned towards Rourke. ‘Our friends?’ she echoed quietly.
‘Today I’ll take, “the enemy of our enemy” without judgement,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Besides, you never know. Maybe a border House has decided on a new paint-job.’ She rolled her eyes at the suggestion neither of them believed, but didn’t press the point.
‘D’Ghor ship decloaking,’ Veldman reported.
‘Keep pinning them,’ Rourke called. ‘And let’s finish this.’
* *
“Santa Maria!” Gaeda cursed from the combined operations and science console of the Vondem. Though science would be a stretch. Klingons did science, just not on their warships and especially not on their obsolete, out of date and retired scout ships. Though Vondem Thorn was not any of those things anymore.
His curse had been because of the cavalcade of phaser fire emitting from the Endeavour as she lit up a volume of space that Trid had been about to throw the ship into in pursuit of their prey. His faith in testing the bajoran woman before suggesting her to Sidda was reaffirmed as she rolled and dived the ship out of harm’s way before finding a way to bring the ship’s nose back on track.
“Their decloaking,” he announced as his sensors picked up the tell tale signs mere moments before it because painfully obvious for all. “They’ve got shields back up.” That clearly indicated why they were decloaking. Some shields against random fire were better than no shields, especially when it was clear they were fleeing.
He went to work then immediately on the secondary objective of this fight, scanning the newer ship in detail, devoting the sensors to the task and nearly blinding the ship to anything not super-obvious as he searched them for his prey. It only took a few seconds as he knew where he was looking. “Transporter lock!”
“Fire!” Sidda ordered and Telin let rip once more on the fleeing vessel, collapsing it’s shields with the devastating fire of the Endeavour helping as they forced the ship into one of the Federation vessels phaser beams.
His fingers sent the order to the Vondem’s transporter and watched as they system cycled, confirming they’d captured their prize for this fight. “Got it!”
“Torpedo!” Sidda demanded, raising a hand, then dropping it. “Fire!”
The helmsman of the D’Ghor ship had to have been some sort of demon with the way they moved their ship, or dangerously careless and uncaring about inertial compensator delays. A few disruptor bolts, another graze from Vondem’s phaser across the hull, but she was keeping the ship safe until a truly massive orange-yellow beam from the Endeavour’s more modern beam arrays slammed into the ship, blowing out a truly horrendous section of the engineering space.
The ship suffered for it, slowing, spinning, clearly difficult to control. As the pilot brought the ship under control and on a bearing to jump to warp and flee, the torpedo from the Vondem which had been tracking them found it’s target. Matter and anti-matter were unleashed. There was only a vanishingly small amount of antimatter aboard the torpedo, around 10 grams for the ones the Vondem kept aboard ship, but it was equivalent to nearly 429 kilotons of explosive force that detonated inside the D’Ghor ship, ripping the hull apart in atomic fury.
“Stand down battlestations,” Sidda ordered. With just those words and a button push from Telin at tactical, the lighting of the bridge shifted from the dark red to a slightly lighter red. And just on queue the door at the rear of the bridge swooshed open. Gaeda watched as Riven waltzed in, hands carefully reaching out for familiar points as she made her way to Sidda’s side, in defiance of the orion’s order to stay off the bridge.
“Hail the Feds,” Sidda ordered as she reached out without looking to pull Riven close, forcing her to perch on the left arm of the command chair.
“Aye ma’am,” Gaeda said as he punched in the commands as well as sending a message to engineering that T’Ael’s prize would be waiting for her on the transporter pad.
* *
‘Sir, I’m detecting a power surge from the other Bird-of-Prey... I think they might have beamed something on board?’ said Veldman. ‘Maybe a survivor?’
‘You believe that if it gives you comfort, Lieutenant,’ said Rourke, eyebrow raised. ‘Don’t stand down Red Alert; Tactical, keep a targeting profile of our new friends, but don’t lock anything on yet. Let’s not cause any offence.’
Bekk turned at Comms. ‘They’re hailing us, Captain.’
‘Lieutenant Veldman, scan the wreckage and see if there’s a hope in hell of salvaging anything from the computer core,’ said Rourke, before leaning back on the command chair and turning to the viewscreen. ‘Put them through, Petty Officer Bekk.’
His expression was neutral for half a heartbeat. Then he saw the sight of the Bird-of-Prey’s bridge and he hopped to his feet, hands open, expression affable. ‘I’m Matt Rourke, Captain of Endeavour. You have excellent timing.’
“And you have a hole in your ship Captain,” Sidda said, her tone as neutral as possible. “Captain Sidda Sadovu of the Vondem Thorn.” The woman to her side turned her head away from the screen, the better to listen to the conversation.
‘We’ve weathered worse,’ Rourke said amiably. ‘But thank you for your help. That would have taken longer, the way they were dancing around. To what do I owe the good luck of this encounter?’
It was interesting, he reflected. After all these months he’d finally started to learn how to read Valance’s utterly blank expressions. Because he could tell from just a quick glance that despite her face giving nothing away, she wanted to scream, ‘Why are you being chatty to the pirates?’
“You have information that could prove useful to me, I have information that could prove useful to you. House D’Ghor is bad for business all around. Perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement.” The woman at Sidda’s side turned to whisper in her ear briefly and then Sidda spoke again. “At a minimum, we’ll also offer our protection while you make good your damage. No point in letting D’Ghor raiders get a victory.”
The woman once more turned to listen to the conversation rather than look at anyone speaking, brushing hair back behind her pointed ear, further revealing the rather eclectic collection of rogues on the Vondem’s bridge. “We’ll also,” the Romulan woman said, “need a replicator,” her voice musical and soft. There were a few accompanying nods from crew members and a very slight squeeze around her waist from Sidda.
‘Generous,’ Rourke mused. ‘Hold on a moment, Captain. Let me take this discussion to my ready room.’ He lifted a hand to Bekk, and the viewscreen changed for the Starfleet seal. ‘Patch it through, Mister Bekk. Commander Valance, the bridge is yours. Don’t lose the Kut’luch’s trail, and get our systems fighting fit.’
Valance stepped in before he could leave, voice dropping. ‘You’re not negotiating with these pirates, sir?’
‘What, good citizens who saw someone in need and decided to help? And just happen to be sitting on a highly-personalised pile of guns?’ Rourke gave a wry, lopsided smile. ‘Welcome to the Borderlands, Commander.’
She didn’t stop him, but he did jab a finger at Kharth as he left. ‘Make sure you’re ready to blow them to hell if they so much as twitch, Lieutenant.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Kharth in a sing-song voice, and he left the bridge behind for his ready room.
* *
“We’re not being specifically targeted, but they do certainly have an awful lot of sensors looking in our direction,” Gaeda said from this station as the blue casting from the viewscreen and the Starfleet seal upon it lit the bridge. “I’d say they’ve likely got a generalised targeting solution, but nothing specific.”
“Shields or not they’d make quick work of us,” Trid said, turning away from her station. “No point in antagonising them.”
Sidda nodded in agreement with both of her crewmembers statements. “Stand down all weapons Telin. But keep your finger on the cloak. And Trid, be ready to jump to warp. Feds aren’t likely to shoot without reason, so we’ll not give them one.”
“Huh...I’ve picked up a warp tail, faint and fading,” Gaeda said. “Guess they were hunting someone when our friends showed up.”
“Evidence D’Ghor aren’t just raiding but planning some sort of fleet action perhaps? They’ve got escorts for fleeing vessels and likely cloaked screening elements around as well.”
“Likely ma’am.”
Sidda sat quietly for a moment, thinking before she pulled Riven off the arm and into her lap proper. “What did I say about you being on the bridge during combat?” she whispered in the woman’s ear, finding a leg to pinch through well worn pants she was wearing.
“I waited,” Riven responded as she draped herself over Sidda, uncaring for the display everyone on the bridge could see. She then moved slightly so she was at least sitting upright properly, just as the viewscreen snapped back.
There was no Starfleet bridge this time, just the more closely cropped face of a human male and a change of decor to what was clearly an office.
“You aren’t thinking of chasing someone in your state are you?” Sidda asked before Rourke could get a word in.
Rourke’s craggy face creased into a smirk. ‘What’s the saying? You should see the other guy. And the other guy needs killing before he goes to ground.’ His head tilted. ‘You’ve figured it’s worth fighting the D’Ghor directly. You’ve seen what they can do if they’re allowed to go free?’
“I do,” Sidda said, squeezing Riven as memories came back to her. “But killing yourself to kill the other guy is pointless. Yes, you got him, but you’re not around to protect what’s yours from the next guy.” She sighed briefly. “That and don’t you have the men and women under your command to consider as well? I’m sure they agree in putting these D’Ghor murderers down, but dying chasing down a ship that’s going to need repairs of its own is another matter.”
‘I’ve no intention of drawing this out,’ said Rourke. ‘Hunt down this Vor’cha within a few hours. Finish it. Get home. It’s not a great plan, but it’s the plan I have with the options I have. Had.’ He leaned back, and the smirk faded. ‘But they’re slipping away, and here you are. So, why has the bad business of the D’Ghor brought you to this point, Captain? Why have they left you with questions?’
“Kemron IV. Started off as a wildcat mining operation, not an official colony. Been having problems even getting recognised. Well, you can inform your Bureau of Colonisation they don’t need to bother anymore since D’Ghor bastards have wiped the entire colony out. Just under two thousand people living their lives. I want whatever intelligence Starfleet has on these bastards so I can pick and choose my targets. I’m planning on sticking a knife in their side and twisting it at every chance I can get and one other uniform mannequin in your fleet has turned me down. I plan on being such a colossal pain in the ass they have to pull back and start guarding their rear lines. I’ll strike where I feel like, take what I want and if you can tell me where best to hit them.” Sidda’s voice had taken a hard edge as she spoke.
There was also a data packet sent as she spoke, detailing their findings at Kemron IV as well as itemising what they had left behind, but not what they’d taken. As well as a warning about a few bobbytraps they’d left behind, should D’Ghor pillagers stop by to pick up some loot.
Rourke’s gaze flickered, obviously scraping across the data as it appeared on a section of his screen. His eyes were harder when they returned to the bridge of the Vondem. ‘I’m not giving you all intelligence that Starfleet has on the D’Ghor,’ he said levelly. ‘My arse would be in court-martial quicker than you could spit. But.’ He leaned forwards. ‘Narrow it down for me. Pick a region near the border. One you know well.’
“The Archanis sector,” Sidda responded dryly. “I don’t galavant around the galaxy captain, so my crew and I are very familiar with the region.” With a wave of her hand, some more information was sent across to the Endeavour, this time but a sample of what she had at her disposal. “I can naturally trade your intelligence for mine.” It was a sample of the information she had received from Ayer’s Rock, a burst of a few days worth of snooping, sent in such a manner to hide the transmitter as best as possible. “Surely an equitable trade can be achieved and I’m sure your own commanders would appreciate another source of intelligence.”
‘All of Starfleet’s knowledge on the D’Ghor spanning the entire sector, for even the most robust breakdown of what you’ve picked up over the last few weeks, isn’t equitable.’ He clasped his hands together. ‘In practical terms, there’s something you specifically want from me, something that seems personal to you: information to hurt the D’Ghor. So for me to give you all of that, what I want specifically isn’t just one more ship out there fighting them.’ He shrugged. ‘You knew I was chasing someone; you’ve picked up my quarry’s trail.’
“You speak like my mother, always wanting to entice me into revealing things she knows good and well are true. I have enough romulans aboard my ship to obfuscate a simple conversation, so perhaps we can speak a bit more clearly?” She was rewarded with a smile from Riven for her comment and a whisper in her ear again.
Technically Rourke smirked again, but it was not the same smile. This curl of the lip, sincere enough to her, held a whole new edge to the affable front of earlier. ‘The Kut’luch is a Vor’cha-class that raided the Talmiru system days ago, and attempted to raid the Elgatis Refinery only yesterday. We stopped them, but they got away. They took a serious hammering in fight, which is why we’ve tried to run them down despite our damage. The Kut’luch is considered one of the most dangerous D’Ghor ships in the sector, and while I have no doubt I could find them again once Endeavour is repaired, I wouldn’t pay the price for that. Whoever they murder between now and then would.
‘So.’ He leaned forward. ‘You’ve picked up their trail. Follow it, and send me word. They’ll need to put in somewhere for repairs, even if it’s a bolt-hole for their own engineers to get to work. Find where they go to ground. I estimate Endeavour needs seven days, at best, if we’re going to slink to a dry-dock and get fighting fit. I don’t need you to watch them the whole time, but I want to set off with your best assessment of where they are and what condition they’re in. Agree to that, Captain, and I’ll even take a leap of faith and give you a briefing packet on Archanis Sector D’Ghor operations here and now.’ His gaze remained level, cold but intent.
“How dead do you want these bastards?” Sidda asked, then looked over her shoulder to the station to her right. Telin looked down at his console then held up a hand with three raised fingers. She waited a moment for him to nod his head in confirmation of his own estimate. “Because we could of course kill them for you. We’ll either need to replace three photon torpedoes, or some of those fancy quantum torpedoes you uniform stuffers have lying around. That or give me a single replicator, medical grade of course.”
She pointedly didn’t tell him why she wanted a replicator, but the uses were varied. The trouble one could get up to with a medical grade replicator, versus the ubiquitous commercial replicators present throughout the Federation were varied.
For a heartbeat, Rourke faltered. It plainly would have been so easy to say yes, a cloud crossing his face. When he straightened, it was as if a great weight had fallen across his shoulders, and at last, his expression that had gone from affable to cold finally reached tired. He shook his head. ‘I can’t equip you with Starfleet weaponry, or a medical grade replicator. But a good try, Captain.’
He lifted a hand to scrub his face. ‘We need to finish the Kut’luch ourselves. So, just the information. And I can see what I can do about other supplies. Some parts for your ship, maybe. Or some minor luxuries.’
“Torpedoes can be luxurious,” spoke Telin from the back of the Vondem’s bridge, earning him a withering glare from Gaeda that he just didn’t see. It did bring a smirk to Sidda’s face though, one the brutish man wouldn’t be able to see. She’d admonish him for speaking up later, but in a gentle way for once. It was truly a beautifully timed interruption.
“One standard replicator, the kind in your quarters. Three tons of replicator mass and I’m sure you can free up an emitter head for a mark eight phaser. Ours is getting a little worn out, what with saving merchants and Federation cruisers.” Riven whispered in Sidda’s ear and she listened before speaking. “And I would like a complete list of all interstellar missing persons reports issued recently by the Romulan Republic. I know the Federation cooperates with them on this front.”
‘As well as all of our information on local D’Ghor operations, delivered up front?’ Rourke gave a soft snort, and shook his head. ‘One replicator. An emitter head. Two tonnes of mass. Delivered only when you get me actionable intelligence on the Kut’luch’s next move. Or you’re flying away from this meeting with an awful lot, and I’m flying away with nothing but faith.’ He shrugged. ‘And I’m not doing a blanket trade of the secrets of our friends. But with more specific information, I can use the time for more specific enquiries about what the Romulan Republic knows, or how desperate they are, for any particular persons of interest.’
“I’m not asking for secrets, I’m asking for the latest public postings. We didn’t have time to update our lists last we visited a Federation world.” She mulled the rest of Rourke’s proposition, then looked over to Gaeda and the man shrugged.
“We could do with the emitter head now. And some parts for the pintle mount it’s on,” the man said. “But it should last another twenty or thirty hours of use.” Which in terms of a weapons life, could be months, or longer, when not in a war. But in a war? A few months max before burn out.
“We’ll expect restock of any expended munitions while getting your ‘actionable intelligence’,” Sidda said as she looked back to the viewscreen. “After all, if we catch this Kut’lach in a dock with her shields down, you wouldn’t begrudge me gifting a few photon torpedoes to the D’Ghor now would you? Or any other ships of theirs?”
‘I can send you the public posting. But no goods until I have a demonstration you’ll make good on this agreement. Until then, the information - which is significant - will be recompense for your work today.’ Rourke tapped his chin with a finger. ‘I’ll arrange what I deem a fair restock of expended munitions on this operation. Which means you don’t get to write a blank check with whatever tale you tell, but I’ve no intention of leaving you out of pocket for this service.’
“Captain, I’m an honest merchant. If I say we used five photon torpedoes, we used five photon torpedoes.” There was a brief chuckle from a few of her own bridge members at that, even a smirk from Riven. “We’ll await your information and then be underway. Make sure you have all you promised ready for me when we return. And we will return.” That last sentence was said with cold, hard determinism. As if by saying it in such a manner, it would be so.
‘I’ll include comms details. Tell me when you have news, and we’ll arrange a meeting for us to deliver your pay.’ Rourke nodded. ‘I’ll put your information together and send it over. Good hunting, Captain.’
“This isn’t hunting Captain, this is extermination work,” Sidda said and with a wave of her hand the signal but, briefly flashing up a symbol on his screen - a purple background with a black ring and stylised thorn inside the ring. The Vondem Thorn would hang around just long enough to receive the information packet promised before she’d slip back under cloak and disappear along the fading warp trail in pursuit of her wounded prey.
* *
Rourke’s shoulders were slumped as he returned to the bridge. ‘Our new friends are gone?’ he asked Kharth.
‘They’ve cloaked,’ she said. ‘Impossible to tell if they’re still around. A ship that old, there’d probably be some bleed, but with the state our lateral sensors are in…’
Drake turned at Helm. ‘Kut’luch is about four hours away by now. From Engineering’s reports, we should set off now if we want to catch up; we can only keep a higher warp factor for so long.’
Rourke’s eyes returned to the viewscreen, back to nothing but the dark between the stars. He padded towards the command chair, not meeting Valance’s eyes as she stood to surrender it. ‘No,’ he said at length. ‘No, it’s time to stop tumbling down this rabbit hole. Set a course for the Haydorien System. Highest safe warp factor, we’ll have plenty of time to rest once we get there.’
Valance dropped her voice. ‘Haydorien?’
‘Old Andorian colony; they have dry-docks,’ Rourke replied quietly. ‘If they can spare us a berth, that’ll give Cortez all the freedom and time she needs to get us fighting fit.’
‘Course laid in,’ said Drake with a bemused tone as Valance nodded and stepped back. ‘If you’re ready to get us out of here, sir.’
He heard the question, and did not have the fire inside to answer it. Not yet. Rourke sank onto his chair, and gave Drake a nod. ‘Let’s get going, Lieutenant.’
Before his eyes, the starscape shifted as Endeavour came about. It was irrational to think that the stars seemed brighter when she faced back to Federation space, so numerous and varied were there, but the moment passed in a heartbeat as she lunged into warp. He’d thought it would feel more like turning tail and running.
Instead, Rourke sat back on the command chair, and for the first time in days felt like he could breathe.
‘Haydorien patrols confirm the system is presently secure,’ Bekk reported from Comms. ‘And the dry-dock has a berth waiting for us.’
‘Coming out of warp now,’ said Drake, and Endeavour shook more than she should have as she slowed.
The viewscreen changed from streaming stars to the bright blue hues of Haydorien. Rourke knew he should have found the sight relaxing, but all that changed in him was a low, humming sense of urgency. It was time to rest, but only so they could fight again. ‘Bring us in to dock, Helm.’
Kharth looked up. ‘Sir, confirming the presence of multiple Starfleet ships: Discovery, Shackleton, and the Odyssey. The Odyssey looks like they’ve taken a hammering of their own.’
‘It’s the fashionable thing,’ Rourke murmured. ‘Send them a standard greeting, Mr Bekk, and explain why we’re here. Tell their captains I’ll be happy to talk more once Endeavour’s squared away.’ His gaze swept across the bridge, then he stood up with a sigh. ‘Lieutenant Kharth, if the coast is clear, the bridge is yours to bring us in. Commander Valance, my ready room.’
He caught the guarded, confused glances exchanged by both, women who didn’t like each other and still spared a look to confirm his behaviour was odd. But Valance followed him into his ready room anyway, and he made straight for the replicator for a cup of coffee that he desperately wanted to be whisky.
‘Cortez reckons we can be fighting fit in under a week,’ he said gruffly. ‘Do you think she’s telling me what I want to hear? Or under-promising to look like a genius if we’re underway in five days?’
Valance clasped her hands behind her back, cautious. ‘I think with all we’ve put the Engineering Department through, and considering this is a civilian dry-dock, we should take her at her word. And be prepared for an extra day or two, if only to give the engineers a chance to rest and recover before we’re back in the line of fire.’
He grunted. ‘Haydorien’s nice. Make sure everyone gets at least 24 hours’ shore leave.’ The coffee was piping hot as he took a swig and went to his window, taking a moment to watch the system begin to stream past. ‘Damning thing is that the people who need the longest breaks should use the time to work. Repairs. Drills.’
‘I’ll work out a fair rota. Forty-eight hours for Security before coming back to combat drills refreshed?’
‘And everyone who has transferable skills should spend one shift helping repair work. Even as extra hands. Get the department heads to assess how to best fit them in without giving Cortez more work managing them.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The silence hung between them, an uncertainty of what was wrong and what could be done and how much to say. Without the immediacy of battle hanging over them, the honesty of the past few days evaporated as captain and commander both retreated to safe ground, fortified enclosures of their thoughts and feelings. At last, Rourke turned back. ‘We need a plan.’
‘Aren’t we waiting for the Vondem Thorn?’
‘You disagree.’
She hesitated. ‘I respect that this is your area of speciality, sir. I don’t know the Borderlands. But I think we’ve taken a lot on faith.’
‘If I believe one thing about them, it’s that an operation like theirs wants the D’Ghor gone, and they’re obviously prepared to fight. The worst that happens is they take our information, forget about the Kut’luch, and go give the D’Ghor a bad day.’
‘Or they sell it to them.’
‘The D’Ghor don’t do well with local illicit economies and infrastructures. You know as well as I do that they’re not average pirates, or average Klingons.’ He frowned. ‘You had nothing to report from the prisoners.’
Valance straightened a half-inch, and by now he could see the war of indignation and defeat in her. ‘I’m not a trained interrogator, sir.’
‘That’s why I only asked if you’d talk to them,’ he said carefully. ‘The most important part of questioning is establishing a rapport. Fundamentally, people want to be understood. I asked because I thought you had the best shot at connecting with them on any level. Which is more of a reflection of the D’Ghor being very alien to Starfleet officers, principles, and ideas.’
‘Except for me, sir?’
Rourke blinked. He hadn’t expected this minefield. ‘If you were unsuccessful, I’ll talk with Kharth.’
Her shoulders sagged. ‘Do you think a Romulan Starfleet officer will do better?’
‘I don’t know what will do better. We know very little of their motivations and ideology. I agree that it’s a significant challenge - how do we make a connection with people who revel in murdering innocents because the more depraved they are, the higher their place in hell when they die?’ He put down his mug and braced his hands on the desk. ‘Fundamentally, an interrogation like this is an exchange. You have to give the suspect something they want in exchange for their information. It’s just when you control their environment, you can control those wants, and sometimes it’s as simple as believing the questioning will stop once they talk.’ He glanced back up. ‘So what do the D’Ghor want?’
Valance sighed. ‘Nothing we can give them, sir. Unless you’re prepared to sanction handing a d’k’tagh to a prisoner, on his word he’ll tell us whatever he knows before he ritually commits suicide in one of our cells.’
‘We’ll call that Plan B,’ Rourke said wryly. ‘No, they don’t get out that easy.’
‘They know it’s over, sir, at least for them. We’ll hand them to the Empire, who’ll probably execute them as honourless traitors, which Starfleet wouldn’t normally do but we transparently have no idea what to do with them. Their hope of death in battle is gone. Their chance at continuing to serve the D’Ghor is gone. We won’t free them and we won’t give them a more honourable death than the Empire. What can we possibly give them that they want?’
‘They want death or blood or honour,’ he murmured. ‘And we can’t give them death or blood. How do you give a warrior back their honour, Commander?’
‘They’ve been discommendated by the High Council -’
‘But for one of them, honourable suicide is enough to make a deal. So there is a personal element to their honour.’ He frowned at nothing, thinking. ‘Is there anything we can do to restore their honour? Even partially? If they recover some honour and we don’t hand them back to the Empire to be further dishonoured, that’s… surely better than nothing?’
‘They didn’t lose their honour down the back of the sofa, sir,’ said Valance a little flatly. ‘It’s not something we can give. It’s earned and it’s found.’
‘But not always by grand actions, or then how would this ritual suicide work? That’s an innately personal act. I assume it would still apply if nobody ever knew that was how a warrior died.’
She sighed. ‘And there you approach the question if Klingon honour is something one holds inside, or something created by how one is perceived. I don’t know, sir. Different Klingons have different opinions.’
‘But this warrior has to think it’s partly personal. If he’ll take dying alone in a cell with only Starfleet to see him.’
Valance watched him a moment. ‘I don’t know what you want from me, sir. I’m not an expert in Klingons, I just know how to talk to them. I spent some of my youth on Qo’noS, and I was in the exchange program for two years.’
‘So honour, for you, is internal.’
She straightened, but he could see the tension there and realised he’d misstepped. ‘Honour, for me, is something Klingons think about that is irrelevant to my life as a Federation citizen and Starfleet officer.’
Once he might have backed off and apologised. But her indignation hit the cold lumps inside him left by Elgatis, and he squared his shoulders, too. ‘Well, that’s horseshit, isn’t it, Commander.’
That staggered her. ‘Sir?’
‘I sent you months ago to find leads on the Wild Hunt and you came back befriending a local Klingon gang after honour-duelling a Mo’Kai agent into giving you the information you wanted. The Hazard Team’s reports from the refinery are polite, but I can read between the lines, Commander, and those gaps are screaming that you fought like a Klingon. You lived on Qo’noS and you served as a Klingon officer and frankly, Valance, I don’t give a damn what sort of family issues or cultural disconnect you’re working through.’ He jabbed a finger at her. ‘I wouldn’t have half the information on the D’Ghor I do without you, and especially not on how our prisoners are thinking, and you don’t get to bail on this issue because it makes you personally uncomfortable.’
She had been squaring up as he had, but halfway through his words she’d gone very still. When Valance spoke, her voice was low and cold. ‘Don’t make assumptions about my family or my life, sir. It’s not your place.’
‘Any assumptions I’ve made are based on your behaviour, Commander. And that behaviour suggests you have a perfectly decent understanding of Klingon culture and honour. You just choose to set yourself apart from it, like you chose to cut yourself off from what you saw as your Klingon traits because you thought they made you a worse officer.’ His chin tilted up. ‘Remember I am the blood-brother of the son of a Klingon house. Torkath thinks you’re a warrior, and that’s good enough for me. Right now I don’t need a cold first officer to write my rota and tell me when to pull back. I need someone who’s going to get inside our enemy’s head and tell me how to break them.’
‘I don’t know what you want from me, sir,’ said Valance flatly. ‘I can’t conjure honour for this D’Ghor out of thin air.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Klingon culture is rife with ritual and protocol exploring a personal sense of honour. There has to be something, Valance - an act of atonement? Can I bring Torkath here and try to get him to forgive just one D’Ghor if it’ll make them talk? We have a week, Commander, find me something.’
Her gaze went distant as she looked away, and while his chest was heaving, Rourke knew he’d pushed her to a place which had nothing to do with the two of them. At length, she said, ‘There is one thing I can think of.’
‘Tell me.’
‘The Niy’It. The Long Walk. A physical and spiritual journey of cleansing, reflection, and personal understanding.’ Her voice was now toneless. ‘It is an opportunity for the honourless, or at least the lost, to shed themselves of guilt or distraction or burdens and find clarity. They undertake a long trek through perilous terrain with no weapons or supplies for four days and four nights, and meditation rather than sleep. It is not exactly a recovery of honour, but a chance to discover… a turning point. For when a warrior cannot find the wood for trees, so to speak.’
Rourke nodded slowly. ‘I assume we couldn’t just do it on the Holodeck.’
‘The safeties would have to be off. And I’m not sure we can rely on Endeavour’s power-grid or gravity plating being perfectly stable for all that time; if he had even the slightest suspicion it was a controlled environment, it’d be pointless.’ Valance shook her head. ‘We would have to find a remote location in the system. A subdermal equivalent to a combadge could be injected. With a shuttle in orbit, he wouldn’t be able to run.’
‘We can’t dump even the most cooperative D’Ghor on a moon on his own and assume he’ll just enact this Long Walk and tell us what he wants. He’d have to be accompanied.’
‘He can’t have a guard, sir; that defeats the object. The Long Walk is only for the honourless.’ It was as if she had to drag her eyes back to meet his gaze again. ‘We would have to offer him the Long Walk as a means of recovering some measure of honour, or at least a commitment to help him in whatever clarity it gives him if we can. In exchange for what he knows about Kuskir or Gaveq.’ Valance drew a deep, shuddering breath. ‘And if that’s the case, the only person who can go with him is me.’
It was a good day.
Even if Dathan Tahla had not been a spy, she wouldn’t have shown her good mood. She was from a culture where keeping your cards close to your chest came as easy as breathing, and had thrived under the double-edged blade of being overlooked and underestimated. It was the most amateurish of mistakes to show something had pleased her, and doubly so when the reason was that she had an advantage over someone.
Bulkheads along Deck 15 were still scored with phaser and disruptor fire. A bloodied smear had dried on a junction corner as only a day ago an injured officer would have staggered past. She walked by crewmembers whose uniforms were still worn or torn, often sporting cuts and scrapes so minor nobody in Medical had yet had time to patch them up. They had only just docked and would soon enough have time to recover, but most looked tired, some looked morose, and everywhere she walked bore the exhausted, bloody air of defeat.
She would have thought that madness under normal circumstances. They had driven off brutish scum. That they’d escaped was immaterial; there were always more brutes. But now, today, Dathan could barely stand it, the hint of decadent weakness, like these Starfleet officers had looked into the heart of darkness for only the first time.
This had been nothing. True darkness would break them.
She had to measure her gaze more when she stepped into the turbolift to find Carraway inside. While he was still a bit dishevelled, he looked like he might have slept and washed. She didn’t know if she wanted to commend him for his pragmatism or sigh at how he carried lesser burdens but presumed to tell everyone how to bear theirs. Neither option was appropriate, though, so she chose a tired, polite smile. ‘Counsellor. Bridge.’
‘Lieutenant.’ His smile was still irksomely kind. ‘You doing alright?’
‘I wasn’t hurt, and I don’t think I’d met anyone we lost,’ she pointed out.
‘You still fought in vicious hand-to-hand combat and were ambushed by several Klingons on your own in the corridors.’
‘I know we made an agreement,’ she said dryly, ‘but I didn’t think you’d want to hold a session on the lift.’
Carraway chuckled and looked down, bashful. ‘No.’
‘Not to mention,’ she said, turning to face him, ‘you had a rather difficult time.’ It wasn’t that she cared, Dathan reasoned. But suggesting that she did made her less suspicious, and people often preferred to talk about themselves anyway. It would get her through a turbolift trip.
‘Yeah,’ he allowed, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes when he looked up that she found startling in its acceptance. ‘I’m not a soldier or a security officer. I’ve barely been in a fight. Once a year I go down to Security and run through the basic tests I need to stay rated for a starship assignment.’ He shrugged, but then his gaze went shrewd. ‘You know how it is.’
And by pretending to care, Dathan realised she’d let him outmanoeuvre her. Her gaze flickered to the ceiling. ‘Computer, halt turbolift.’
Carraway drew a deep breath. ‘I’m not looking to push you, Lieutenant.’
‘It’s not what you think,’ she said, more calmly than she felt, and aware she was speaking to fill time until she figured out what she’d say.
‘I understand that there are some things in your line of work that you can’t talk about.’ He spoke like she was some startled creature that might bolt if he didn’t keep her calm. ‘And that’s even harder if your official records list you as an analyst and not a field-rated Intelligence Officer. But I’ve got higher clearance than I bet you think, exactly so I can talk to officers like you about things they can’t talk about with anyone else.’
He knows I’m a spy, Dathan realised with wonder. He just thinks I’m a spy who works for Starfleet. She sighed, and let a dose of her genuine relief sink in. Lies were always best when they hewed close to the truth. ‘Counsellor, my situation in Starfleet is… complicated,’ she said honestly. ‘You’re correct. I’m more than my records say I am. I’ve had experiences that aren’t in my personnel files. But I do receive counselling for this.’
His kind smile returned. ‘Okay, Lieutenant. I’m not really worried; you do what you gotta to get through these few weeks. Just know that if you want to talk, I can listen. More than anyone on this ship except the captain, and I imagine you don’t want to talk to him about this.’
‘The captain…’ Dathan sighed. ‘No. But I do need to speak to him.’ She tapped the turbolift control panel, and it hummed to life again, rising through the ship. ‘But. Thanks.’
‘It’s my job.’
‘Your job that’s about to get easier if we’re getting downtime now we’re at Haydorien, right?’
‘It’s the right call,’ said Carraway with visible relief. ‘I’d rather counsel people through their guilt than through their grief.’ The turbolift slid to a halt at Deck 2, and he inclined his head as he stepped out. ‘Good luck with the captain.’
Today was getting better and better.
This was the first time she’d been to the captain’s ready room, the windows beyond the desk showing the surface of Haydorien Prime peering through the gaps in the dry-dock’s frame. Rourke had shown little interest in her presence, which she’d told herself was convenient because it gave her space to get established on Endeavour before dealing with him, a man whose history with Beckett would prejudice him against her. But the truth of it was that she was happiest not being in the same room with that hulking frame and those square features, especially not alone, even in this universe.
That he looked tired was little comfort. In her memories, that was when he was at his pettiest and most dangerous. But Captain Rourke waved her to a seat as she came in and sat up, at least managing to fake a courteous expression. ‘Lieutenant. We’ve not had much chance to check in. How’ve you been?’
They’d had the chance. Just, apparently, not the will. But Dathan sat and clasped her hands like a meek analyst and gave a tight smile. ‘Settling, Captain. Your staff have been most supportive as I’ve worked.’
‘I only hear good things,’ Rourke said with a nod. ‘Commander Airex praised your assessments that led us to Elgatis in the first place.’
She suppressed any hint of wry amusement at that notion. ‘I believe Commander Airex had already reached those conclusions without me.’
‘Maybe. Second opinion doesn’t hurt in this line of work, when we have to fly out ourselves to face the music instead of just make recommendations.’
While it was good that he thought her merely a backseat analyst, a jibe from him was still more unsettling than she’d have liked. ‘I’m sorry that it didn’t really pay off.’
‘I disagree. We were successful at Elgatis.’
‘In saving forty people. But the Kut’luch got away.’
Rourke’s eyes on her were level. ‘If you want to present that assessment to Admiral Beckett and see if he’ll put someone else on the job, be my guest, Lieutenant.’
Dathan forced herself to sigh. ‘That’s not really my concern, sir. My concern is more that your conversation with the crew of the Vondem Thorn appears to have included handing over secure Starfleet intelligence briefings. To a completely unknown band of local pirates.’
He tensed and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. ‘Lieutenant, let me make this clear: the hunt for the Kut’luch is my responsibility and my priority. Endeavour is in no condition to continue chasing that ship into increasingly unknown territory. And so I will make whatever deals or compromises I deem necessary to make sure that ship does not disappear on us.’
She forced herself to meet his stern gaze. ‘So you did make a deal, then, sir? All of that intel in exchange for them hunting down the Kut’luch?’
‘For a lead on the Kut’luch. We’ll finish the job.’ He shrugged with an indifference she knew was feigned. ‘And all it’s cost me is arming a group with a vested interest in the local community the means of fighting back against the D’Ghor. It’s far from ideal, and I would rather operations like the Vondem Thorn didn’t exist - but they do. They’re here. And we share an enemy for now. If you want to report that to Beckett so he can drag me up before a disciplinary panel, be my guest, Lieutenant. All I ask is that you wait until the D’Ghor are done -’
‘Sir, I think you misunderstand me.’ She made her expression sink. ‘I’m not here to threaten to report you to Admiral Beckett. Not for what happened at Elgatis. Not for what happened with the Vondem Thorn.’ Dathan shook her head. ‘I came here to assure you that I’m not going to raise this with the admiral. That I understand what’s happened and why, and that the mission comes first.’
Rourke’s eyes turned cautious. ‘That’s not what I’d expect of a staff officer of your history, Lieutenant.’
She bit her lip as she calculated. ‘Sir, as I’m sure is becoming increasingly apparent, my records don’t tell a full story.’ There was a surge of satisfaction at the thought that this wasn’t a lie. ‘I’ve been in Starfleet Intelligence long enough to understand the price of doing business. That decisions in the field need to be made based on the practicalities of a situation, rather than wider policy or principle.’
There was a long pause as he watched her, and she tried to not squirm. In her recollection, this was a prelude to rage, but when he spoke he sounded thoughtful. ‘You didn’t want to come here, Lieutenant Dathan.’
‘I joined Starfleet to make a difference,’ she lied. ‘I’ve believed for months that I can make the most difference by advising the Director of Fourth Fleet Intelligence. So no, I didn’t appreciate being transferred to a front-line starship, having an impact on a smaller scale. But first, I’m here, which means supporting you in this hunt for the Kut’luch, sir. And second…’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘It’s been a while since I made this sort of difference. It has a different sort of meaning.’
‘It does,’ he said softly, still watching her. ‘You’ve worked for Beckett for a while?’
‘Only six months. I was on the staff at Task Force 58 before that.’
‘I don’t know if you’ve realised that this is what he does, Lieutenant.’ Rourke sounded careful. ‘He selects promising officers, gets them close so he has a measure of them and so they feel patronised, then sends them off into the galaxy on seemingly “better” assignments. Ostensibly to reward talent, and in practice to develop a loyal network distributed about the fleet.’
‘I had noticed that, sir. Nobody has been in my role for very long. He regularly has me seek updates from relatively junior officers who have first-hand accounts from across Starfleet.’ She tilted her head. ‘You’re saying I might have out-lived my usefulness.’
‘I don’t know. The admiral and I have a history. I can’t pretend it doesn’t colour my perspective. You wouldn’t be where you are if you weren’t very good, but I know he’ll expect you to report back about me. And he may not be impressed if you don’t.’ He shrugged. ‘Normally I don’t have a great deal to hide. But the D’Ghor…’
‘Are something different.’
‘I suppose that’s what everyone says about the circumstances that force them to break with principle and protocol. When these are the times we need to hew hardest to our ethics. I’ve had to choose my poison. Don’t think I’ll sleep easy with the decision, Lieutenant.’
‘I’m not in a position to challenge you to explain yourself to me, sir.’
‘You are when you’re saying you won’t report this to Admiral Beckett. If he finds out anyway, he won’t be impressed.’
She frowned. On the one hand, the situation with the Vondem Thorn had provided her with the perfect trump card. She’d come to use it to show her principles and loyalty to Rourke, and it was working a treat. His warning about Beckett replacing her soon enough rang true, and was consistent with suspicions she’d had for several weeks, and she had to be sure that once she left his office she was still somewhere useful to her true loyalties. But burning bridges with a resource such as Beckett was risky.
‘However,’ Rourke said, hunkering down a little to meet her gaze, voice going softer. ‘He’s not the only one who rewards loyalty. I happen to value it, and I happen to particularly value principle. If you’re saying you’re all-in on Endeavour’s mission, Lieutenant, then I can assure you: Endeavour is all-in on you. We owe you our successes so far, after all.’
The satisfaction should have just been professional. She’d played her hand perfectly, and knew broaching the question of Endeavour’s knowledge and intentions on her true comrades and superiors would be much, much easier when the time came. Her first duty as a spy was to secure trust, and the evils of the D’Ghor were a magnificent opportunity to appear principled and committed while obfuscating her true priorities. But Dathan did not like the more personal satisfaction at Rourke’s words. Nevertheless, perfectly-honed survival instincts that demanded she seek approval and protection from her cohort positively purred with relief.
So she kept her gaze more studied than she might. ‘The mission’s not over, sir. Endeavour can be all-in on me if I actually help us get the Kut’luch.’
He nodded thoughtfully, and sat back. ‘As you say. But I appreciate your candour. All I ask is for you to carry on in that vein, Lieutenant.’ Rourke shrugged. ‘After all, sticking together is the only way we’ll get through this.’
‘This is crazy,’ said Cortez flatly, arms folded across her chest as she stood in Valance’s quarters and watched her pack. ‘You’re going on a hiking trip with a D’Ghor lunatic, on a moon in a system that is a prime target for attack, with only a shuttle in orbit manned by two kids for backup!’
Valance frowned as she straightened. ‘Vakkis is twenty-nine.’
‘So not the point. You don’t have anything to prove, you know?’
‘I don’t think that,’ said Valance unconvincingly. She zipped shut her bag, and Cortez’s head spun as she saw how small it was. But of course it was small - this Long Walk was supposed to be done with no supplies or weapons, so all Valance had was anything she wanted for the trip there and back. ‘I think that we need to know what Atal knows, and I’m the only person who can do that.’
‘I know I tried to say, “Hey, you can be a Klingon officer without being the Klingon officer,” back at T’lhab,’ said Cortez carefully, ‘but a spiritual quest for lost or dishonoured warriors to find their way? Is that really something you want or need?’
‘This isn’t about me.’ Valance slung the bag over a shoulder. ‘This is about doing what’s necessary for the ship and for the mission.’
‘So you don’t believe it?’ Cortez set her hands on her hips. ‘You don’t believe you’re lost or dishonoured? You’re going to try to relate to this deranged D’Ghor by only pretending to participate in a cultural practice? Pretending to be a Klingon -’
‘I am a Klingon!’ Valance snapped. ‘Half-human or not, I am the daughter of a Klingon House and I have served on a Klingon ship and I have committed to fights for Klingon honour, and however much I hate it, it is a reality I can’t ignore!’
Cortez drew a deep breath. ‘I was going to say “a Klingon warrior who lives and dies by honour,”’ she said carefully. ‘And you’re certainly not that. You live for Starfleet first and foremost. Don’t you?’
But Valance had subsided as quickly as she’d snapped. ‘Maybe that’s why I’m fit to go on a Long Walk,’ she muttered, and headed for the door.
‘Hey.’ Cortez reached out to catch her arm, though Valance was slow to stop and that dragged the engineer around and a couple of paces. ‘I’m not judging. I’m worried. Even if you know exactly what you’re doing and are comfortable with that, this is still dangerous. Rourke wants answers and you’re wired to want to give them to him.’
Valance did hesitate there. ‘We need a next step.’
‘Sure. But why do you have to be the one to give it? I’m going to be up to my eyeballs in Endeavour’s guts for days. That’s days for Dathan or Kharth to do some analysis, for someone else to give us a lead, or for Rourke’s goddamn bribery of pirates to show something up. Don’t do something risky because he can’t stand being helpless.’
‘Maybe I can’t stand being helpless, either.’ Valance’s gaze dropped. ‘And maybe Atal doesn’t know anything useful, and maybe he won’t tell me. But I have to try, because what’s the point of all this, what’s the point of being me, being Klingon, if I can’t use it to get answers and save lives? And I have to try, because…’
Cortez frowned. ‘You know it doesn’t matter if some Klingons, especially some brutal raiders, think you’re also dishonourable or whatever, right -’
‘Except they’re right. Don’t ask me to explain it, because it won’t make sense to you; the Federation, you - we - it’s all about commitment to the whole, to the community.’ Valance sighed, lifting a hand to brush back a stray lock of Cortez’s hair, which had been in open rebellion for the long days of Endeavour’s repair. ‘I’m not saying I need this Long Walk here and now. I’m doing this for the mission. But there’s a reason I can do this.’
‘He’d better,’ said Cortez quietly, ‘hand us Kuskir or Gaveq on a goddamn plate by the time you’re done. You be careful, okay?’
‘Better than that,’ said Valance, and leaned down to kiss her gently. ‘I’ll be back.’
‘Smooth,’ said Cortez, pretending that hadn’t made her toes curl. ‘Almost worthy of me.’
Cortez let her leave then, because she much preferred saying goodbye in private than trooping down to the shuttlebay to have an awkward farewell in front of Ensign Harkon, who’d be flying the shuttle, and Lieutenant Vakkis, the Brig Officer there to help handle Atal.
But she actually had five whole minutes of nothing to rub together, still waiting on the staff at Haydorian Prime’s drydock to get back to her on the itinerary for repairs and refit of Endeavour. Cortez had promised all of her engineers some downtime over the week or so it would take to get fighting fit, but she knew her own shore leave would wait until somewhere around the third quarter of the process - when everything was underway, but before crunch-time. And if she was lucky, she distantly hoped, Valance might be back by then.
It was still time to return to her quarters and grab a quick shower ahead of her meeting with the dockmaster. So her hair was still damp when she emerged back on the corridors of the senior staff quarters on Deck 2, and turned a corner to see Drake sauntering towards the turbolift with a big carry-all. He looked bigger in civvies, sporting a battered leather jacket that screamed ‘spacer’, or perhaps had more of a swagger than she was used to when he was in uniform.
‘Connor!’ she called, jogging to catch up. ‘You pulled a long straw and got shore leave?’
He gave a lopsided smirk that, she thought, lacked its usual warmth. ‘No need for Helm staff until the second phase of repairs, right? Consider that my twenty-four hour break in my snow-speeder racing plans, lightly dotted with high-altitude chalet drinking.’
‘Nice,’ Cortez said, sincerely jealous. ‘Bet Haydorian’s got a lot of that.’
‘You should join us if you’ve got five minutes. Half the crew’s occupying a tourist town on the north continent, Lissa.’
‘Normally I’d love the idea of throwing myself down a mountain at high speeds to relax,’ she said, still sincere. ‘But right now I’d kill for the saunas and hot-tubs side of a snowy holiday.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Still, you deserve a break. How’re you doing?’
Drake snorted as they reached the open turbolift doors, both stepping inside and inputting their respective destinations. ‘Since I got treated like disposable meat by Thawn, chewed out by Rourke for things that weren’t my fault, and didn’t get so much as a “thank you” for saving the ship by keeping my head and my station while Klingons tried to kill me? How am I doing with all that, you mean?’
‘Put it like that, a guy deserves some time off,’ she allowed.
‘Put it like that, a guy’s been a damned idiot.’ He shrugged. ‘Starfleet really is like everyone else when it comes down to it, huh? It’s all about yourself at the end of the day.’
She squinted. ‘Is it? It’s been a rough few weeks…’
‘And haven’t you been told that nobody cares about your professional opinion, so long as you can keep this ship going into bigger and bigger ego trips to meet Rourke’s insecurities?’
‘I wouldn’t put it like that,’ she said. Partly because she was aware of their significant disparity in ranks, and no angry junior officer needed the ship’s fourth-in-command mouthing off about the captain like that.
‘Listen, Isa. I know you’re one of the good ones, I know you don’t lose your cool just because you went forty-eight hours without a hot meal or a shower, and I know you’re not just perky because you want something.’ He clapped her on the shoulder. ‘But where I grew up, it was always clear “niceness” was something people only had if they could afford it, and most of the time they couldn’t. And that’s when folks show you who they really are.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘I was naive, that’s all. Thought Starfleet was different. It is in that I get that hot meal and shower. It is in that I get to see the universe more, I get to handle giant hunks of speed and engineering genius and do things nobody else gets to do. It is every bit as cool as I thought it was.’ He shrugged as the turbolift slowed. ‘But when folks show you who they are? Believe them.’
‘Believe them?’
‘Everyone looks after themselves, first and foremost. I forgot that for a time.’ The doors slid open at his stop, close to the docking ports, and despite his cynical words, Drake sauntered out into the corridor and flashed her a smirk over his shoulder. ‘Had a good reminder to look out for me. Hope to see you on the slopes, Isa.’
‘Sure. Have fun!’ But Cortez sighed as the doors slid shut and the turbolift resumed its travels, and rubbed her temples. ‘Definitely gonna be no negative fallout from that.’
* *
All but the most seriously wounded had been discharged from Sickbay, so Rourke’s first visit down was both quieter and more haunting than he’d expected. There was an odd space between Sickbay on a normal day, where neither death nor blood hung in the air, and Sickbay in a crisis, where there was at least anger or fear - energy - to keep him moving through the horrors. Instead he was faced with officers immobilised on biobeds, or exhausted and drained as medical staff saw to them. Here, the wounds were not yet scars, bright and raw even if they were not bloody, painful and recent on the inside as much as the outside.
He kept his gaze level as he approached where Lindgren sat upright, seemingly back in one piece, and Sadek carefully rotated her left arm.
‘Tell me if it hurts at any point,’ Sadek was saying as she slowly tested recovery.
‘It feels weird?’ Lindgren said, frowning, and Sadek stopped. ‘No, it’s okay, Doctor. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just that sort of - intense kind of pressure-point feeling.’
‘That’s the regenerated nerve clusters moving for the first time, as I warned,’ Sadek said patiently. ‘If it’s not painful that’s fine, though if that persists more than a day, I’d want to reassess.’
Rourke set his hands on his hips as he arrived. ‘How’re we looking, Lieutenant?’
‘Captain!’ Lindgren visibly brightened. ‘I’d say I’m hoping to get back to duty soon, but there’s no rush if we’re at Haydorian, right?’
‘You should be fit for duty by the time Endeavour is,’ Sadek said.
‘Should?’ said Rourke.
Sadek shrugged. ‘Barring setbacks. You know I never guarantee anything in medicine.’
‘I understand,’ said Lingren calmly. ‘But once I’m discharged I’d appreciate a decent appraisal of my limits, Doctor.’
Rourke gave a small smile. ‘Planning on joining the staff’s descent to this town, Lissa was it?’
‘Mountain air’s good for recovery, isn’t it? That’s medical science?’
Sadek rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Lindgren’s smirk. ‘I cannot prescribe you freedom to throw yourself down a mountain. Doctor’s orders are to find a vantage point with a lot of drinks that go well over ice, and pass judging commentary on everyone’s antics.’
‘She says “doctor’s orders;” that’s just what she does on holidays,’ Rourke said.
Sadek ignored him. ‘If none of this hurts, Lieutenant, I’m prepared to discharge you. Keep up those stretching exercises - every six hours, remember? And you are under no circumstances to do anything which might get you vigorously thrown to the ground. By which I don’t just mean snow-sports, but also no letting that mournful yeoman of his get happy.’ She jabbed a finger at Rourke. ‘I’ll do the paperwork.’
Lindgren blushed. ‘Noted, Doctor,’ she said as Sadek left for her office, and turned back to Rourke. ‘How’s the ship, sir?’
‘We’ll be fine,’ he said, making sure to be firm in his reassurance. ‘You should worry about yourself and recovery. It was vicious back there, and not just the fighting. I know we think of the bridge as being safe.’
‘In a way. Usually safe from hand-to-hand fighting. But even with the warnings of the D’Ghor, you think you’re ready for it, but…’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, sir. It happened so fast, I -’
‘I don’t expect you to fight off a trained D’Ghor warrior, Elsa. You have nothing to apologise for.’
‘Maybe. But it felt so helpless.’
‘I understand.’ More than you know. But he made sure to catch her eye. ‘But they can’t shock us like that again. Next time - and there will be a next time - we’ll be ready for them.’
‘Even if by “ready for them” means I dive under my post the moment they beam in?’ she said ruefully.
‘If that’s what it takes.’ He forced a smile. ‘You deserve the time off. Make sure you relax.’
‘You should relax, too, sir.’ Lindgren tilted her head, watching him. ‘Everyone knows this is hardest for the captain.’
‘In a way, but… this isn’t my first war, Lieutenant. I’m not saying I’m fine, but I know how to handle this. We’re going to recover - all of us, and Endeavour - and then we’re going to take the fight back to these bastards. Smarter and better.’
And she smiled, because for all of her empathy, Elsa Lindgren could not compete with his forty years’ experience of evasion through a veneer of affability. Then Sadek returned, brandishing PADDs, to pack her off, and the young officer left Sickbay with more of a glint in her eye than she’d had when he arrived.
‘I’m really glad,’ Sadek said quietly, flatly, ‘that she didn’t die on my operating table.’
Rourke’s breath caught. ‘It was that close?’
‘Blood loss,’ said Sadek simply. ‘She was out of the woods pretty quickly, and from there it was just about saving her arm - or its recovery. But it was dicey for a few minutes.’
He looked past her to one of the other few occupied biobeds left, gaze landing on the still shape of his Chief Science Officer. ‘And Airex?’
‘Will mend nicely, but he’s very weak. No judging from the sidelines of snow-sports for him. But I expect the commander to be fighting fit by the time we depart.’ She scrubbed her face wearily.
Rourke put a hand on her shoulder. ‘What about you? Will you be fighting fit?’
‘I just need sleep, and finally people are in a state where I can have it,’ she sighed.
‘I hear you. Once I’ve signed off on the repair itinerary with Cortez and the Dockmaster, I might take a day to pass out. But I don’t think I’ll get the luxury of going planetside. We can get R&R when all of this is over…’ He shook his head, feeling the fatigue in his gut, in every limb, behind his eyes, and he knew it would take more than mere sleep. Knowing that he wouldn’t so much as hint at his exhaustion to anyone but Sadek.
But Sadek’s voice shook a little as she stared at nothing and spoke. ‘We’re going to be more ready next time, right, Matt? I’m not saying you did anything wrong, or you didn’t do enough. We were all as prepared as we thought we could be. But I still know what I’ll do differently next time.’
When she looked at him, there was a dark fear in Aisha Sadek’s eyes he wasn’t used to, and again Matt Rourke remembered that most of Starfleet had no experience of facing savagery like the D’Ghor. He took his exhaustion, wrapped it up in a ball, and cast it somewhere far, far away. Then he squeezed her shoulder, tilting his chin up for the small, reassuring and confident smile he knew made people think everything was fine. ‘Next time we hit them harder and faster. Next time, we do it right. Don’t worry, Aisha. I’ve got us.’
She gave a weary nod and he left, not just because she clearly had work to get on with. But leaving meant he didn’t have to reflect more on what he’d said, more on how he’d lied, and more on the question he’d unwittingly put to himself.
If he had them, who had him?
The Hazard Team hadn’t been assembled for long, which was good, because it meant Otero and Palacio hadn’t had much chance or reason to fill their lockers. Kharth expected that in time they’d be filled with keepsakes and pictures, mementos and totems to remind them of their purpose or from which they could draw strength as the team geared up ahead of difficult missions. But all she’d found were some ration bars and the odd empty wrapper buried at the bottom of Palacio’s, and a picture of Otero’s husband that she’d switched off the moment she found it. Those were swept into a box while standard-issue gear was left inside. The quartermaster could deal with that.
Once Otero’s replacement had been chosen.
‘Damn it,’ she muttered, slamming his locker shut. The nameplate gleamed at her, and it was with a vicious stab of the finger that she deleted the name - Otero, Matías J. - and at once felt guilty for erasing it so thoughtlessly.
‘Lieutenant.’
She closed her eyes at Rhade’s deep voice, granting herself a heartbeat to reach deep and find cold, bitter steel before she turned. ‘Rhade. I’m clearing out the lockers here.’ But she glanced him over. ‘How’re you doing?’
He was as tall and broad as ever, still resplendent in uniform, and had she not known better she’d never have suspected he’d been injured. But his nod was rather stiff, and she presumed he didn’t want to move his shoulder. ‘Fit for desk duty. You anticipated my next move.’ His gesture to the lockers was with his good, right arm. ‘I am sorry, Lieutenant.’
Kharth swallowed a bitter taste. ‘Sorry? You barely knew them.’
‘I knew they were good and brave men,’ he said, then straightened with a flicker of a wince. ‘I know you could hear Otero’s laugh from across a crowded room, and that he laughed often. I know Palacio set up trick shots in the training room to show off before every session, and every session Baranel tried and failed to beat him, and between every session he gave Seeley tips on how to do it. I did not know them well. But I know the holes they will leave. And I know they did not die for nothing.’
‘They did die for nothing, because deaths don’t have meaning,’ she argued. ‘There was no reason, no reason at all, for the D’Ghor to come here. They died for the senseless brutality of the universe, like everyone killed in violence. Just as anyone who dies in an accident dies for the senseless chaos of the universe.’
His eyebrows raised a centimetre. ‘We can do nothing about the universe. Or the hate at the heart of the D’Ghor. We can only respond to the here and now - and in the here and now, they stood firm and they saved lives.’
She hesitated, then turned to Palacio’s locker. His name was deleted from the display just as unceremoniously as Otero’s had been, because she didn’t know if she’d feel worse if she gave him more reverence. ‘We’ll need a new scout and a new quartermaster.’
‘T’Kalla can fill in as a scout for now, and Baranel as quartermaster. I will benefit from your superior knowledge of the crew to select successors.’
‘Successors. That’s a better word than replacements.’ She glared at Palacio’s locker - former locker. ‘I don’t blame you, you know.’
‘To be blunt, Lieutenant, I expect that if you did, I would know.’
She gave a soft snort. ‘I just wish I’d been there. I’m not saying I would have saved them where you didn’t. But I made this team, and on their first serious op without me…’
‘You were where you needed to be. On the bridge, as Chief Tactical Officer, ensuring the Kut’luch couldn’t send wave after endless wave of warriors after us.’
Her jaw tightened. ‘You’re a very reassuring person,’ she said. ‘Please stop.’
The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘I apologise, Lieutenant. I’m aware this is a ship which thrives more on self-blame than moving forward.’
‘There, see - stabbing at our flaws instead of telling us it’s going to be alright. That’s more the Endeavour way.’ She met his gaze unhappily. ‘You should know that T’Kalla hunted me down the moment she’d been patched up, and told me that if I did anything to imply your leadership at Elgatis had been anything less than exemplary, she was going to kick my ass.’
‘I’m sure that was metaphorical, rather than a suggestion she’d assault a superior officer.’
‘I’m sure.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘I guess this is the point I should ask how you’re doing. Seeing as you were the one at the refinery, and still you’ve come here and covered me in reassurance.’
‘We can recognise our burdens are different without getting caught up on whose are worse. And I, too, despise helplessness.’ He sighed. ‘Truthfully, I’m tired. I wish I knew our next step, so I knew what to prepare the team for. Without that knowledge, the D’Ghor return to being phantoms - demons. Unknowable and unknown, except now we’ve seen their savagery.’
‘Maybe that’s it. It doesn’t feel like a win.’
‘In battle, we must take our victories where we can find them. By every metric, this mission was a success, and we must make sure our staff feel that. They have to be the shield for the crew, shelter them from the horrors we don’t expect them to face. They deserve our acclaim and our support. Not everyone can do what they do.’ He tilted his head. ‘That applies to you, too, Lieutenant.’
She looked away. ‘If you want to make transfer requests to replace Otero and Palacio - if you have old comrades you think might do well on Endeavour and in the team - I’ll support those recommendations. If you want suggestions to draw from the staff we have, I’ll make those. But these are your decisions to make. And I’ll back them.’
He nodded, and she knew he understood her - knew he understood that this statement, this gesture, was the acclaim she would give to him. ‘I’ll start thinking. But I’d welcome your suggestions.’
She was halfway out the door before guilt slithered from under a dark rock, and she couldn’t let herself think too much about it as she glanced back and said, ‘Oh, have you spoken to Thawn?’
‘No? We’ve been busy, and -’ Rhade hesitated, and she saw him smother whatever personal concerns arose. ‘No, not lately. Why?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said, no longer caring if that stopped him from thinking, from prying. It would do as a signal that maybe he should reach out to her. It would do as making amends for her own rage and hurt. Of all the things weighing on her, she did not have the time or will to worry about Rosara Thawn.
She’d made sure to clear her schedule after this, but still she’d spent longer in the locker room than intended. Not just because of Rhade, but because she’d been putting off her next move, even though it was a self-imposed duty. So she could pretend to herself this was only professional, or at least formal, she put through the subspace communication from her office.
It took a little time before there was an answer. But then there was the face she’d not seen in years - weathered and a little older, though still keen-eyed, sharp-featured like her son, sat bathed in the late afternoon light of her office overlooking her conservatory, a backdrop of bright and green and life. Qirel Hargan’s features split with a smile at the sight of her. ‘Saeihr! What a pleasant surprise!’
‘Qirel.’ But it was hard to not relax at the wave of warmth and familiarity. ‘I’m sorry to message you out of the blue.’
‘Not at all! With a call from the Endeavour I thought it’d be Dav, but…’ Davir Airex’s mother frowned with apprehension. ‘You’re there?’
Of course he didn’t mention. ‘I’m Chief of Security. Since - I assume he at least told you about the accident a few months ago.’
‘Yes, he did mention.’ Those eyes, pale and blue like her son’s, were more piercing than she’d have liked. ‘I don’t - it’s delightful to hear from you.’
Kharth heard the unspoken question. For all her amiability and warmth, Qirel Hargan was a brilliant professor of xenobotany, making her dangerously intelligent as well as insightful. But despite their shared history, Kharth dug deep to her training for situations like this. ‘I’m calling you because Dav - Commander Airex - has been wounded in battle. He’ll be alright,’ she rushed as fear flooded the other woman’s gaze. ‘But he’s been kept in Sickbay a few days and I thought you might want to know, especially if you were expecting a call from him.’
It wasn’t a lie. She did think that Qirel and Dav’s father would want to know what had happened to him. But she knew she’d conveniently ignored Valance’s comment that they didn’t talk often - that they might not be suspicious if a week or more passed with no word - and she wasn’t exactly sure what she was hoping to get out of this. It was the same sense she got if she had a particularly vicious wound, and poked it out of morbid curiosity. Curiosity was sated, but it still hurt.
‘In battle.’ Qirel’s jaw tightened. ‘I assume this is action against the Hunters of D’Ghor? His last letter discussed your ship heading for the trouble in the Archanis Sector. Is he - you say he’s alright, but…’
‘We were boarded in a fight, and he was stabbed. But Endeavour has an outstanding doctor and he’s truly in the best hands. I’m sure he’ll speak to you when he can, but there’s no indication of long-term difficulties.’
Qirel nodded. ‘Are you alright, dear?’
‘I wasn’t hurt.’
‘I don’t mean - I know you and Dav parted ways a few years ago, but you’re working together now…’
‘Oh, we’re… we’re still broken up.’ It was hard to make that sound casual. Especially to Dav’s mother. ‘We’re just colleagues, we’re not exactly close. But I remember how close he always was with you both, and so I thought I’d… reach out.’
The corners of her eyes creased with sadness. ‘You know as well as I do that he doesn’t talk much to us any more.’
But she sounded grieving, not accusing, and Kharth shrank in her chair. ‘I didn’t know until lately. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t…’ She looked away, corners of her office fuzzy before her eyes. ‘I know he’s different now he’s been Joined. I didn’t know how different until I was assigned to Endeavour. I honestly thought for the last three years that it was just…’
Her voice trailed off, but Qirel shook her head sadly. ‘No, Saeihr. It wasn’t just you. He pulled away from everyone. I won’t go so far as to say he’s a completely different person, though it’s hard to know because we only see him once a year or so. And if he starts talking about something he was always passionate about, or very, very old times, it’s almost like he’s my Dav again. But the rest of the time…’ She sighed. ‘It wasn’t just you.’
‘This isn’t normal for Joining, is it. He warned me that he might be different afterwards, but nothing… nothing like this.’
Nothing in the stars could turn me into someone who doesn’t love you. The memory came roaring out of the dark places she’d locked it away, sharp and intense and painful, and she had to scrub her face to push it back from herself, let alone to stop it from showing her heart plainly to Qirel.
‘No,’ said Qirel Hargan. ‘It’s not normal. And believe me, Saeihr. When the man came home with my son’s face and my son’s memories and my son’s voice, who is and yet is not my son, I looked for any explanation. In our histories, in our people’s extensive research on Joining, even in the history of that thing Airex. This isn’t normal.’
‘Then why.’ Her voice shook more than she’d wanted, and Kharth knew this, this meeting and this validation were what she’d craved and what she’d feared. The confirmation that something was fundamentally wrong, not just with Dav but with the universe. The confirmation that it wasn’t her. ‘He came back and said he needed… time, that he was taking a Leave of Absence and he needed time, and that was… it hurt, but it made sense. But then I didn’t hear from him for a month, and when I did, all he said was that it was over, and…’
‘Oh, my dear, you didn’t deserve this.’ Qirel sighed. ‘I should have reached out to you, but I didn’t know if it was my place. I wish I had answers for you, but I’m just as lost.’ She shook her head. ‘I always thought you were good for him.’
Kharth gave a low, wry chuckle. ‘Really? I thought it was more the other way around. He was… kind, and grounded, and thoughtful, and very… real.’
‘Grounded.’ Qirel snorted softly. ‘That boy had his head in the clouds at any given time. You kept him focused on the world around him, and kept him driven, and…’ But the nostalgia turned bitter at the same time for them both, and she sat back on her chair. ‘You can call me any time you like, Saeihr. Any time.’
‘And you - if you ever want to know how he’s doing and you can’t reach out to him…’ Her eyes flickered up. They hadn’t been like family, they hadn’t been close enough. But there’d been a time when they’d thought they would be family, and had embraced that possibility, that future.
‘That would be very unkind to you.’
‘Maybe,’ Kharth agreed. ‘But there’s nothing about this that is kind.’
* *
The moon didn’t have a designation beyond Haydorian IVc, a remote and wild corner of the system. While the initial Andorian settlers had committed to Haydorian Prime for its cool temperatures, this left more distant bodies even colder and less suitable for settlement. Terraforming processes had included increasing atmospheric density on the selected planets and moons, and records suggested Haydorian IVa had been the first test-bed for the region, as scientists centuries ago attempted to raise the moon’s temperature without unduly blocking out light or the solar radiation necessary for life.
It was a delicate procedure, and one Valance only understood in theory. It did not surprise her that miscalculations happened, though the thought of a mathematical error changing the fate of an entire world was staggering. Such had been the fate of Haydorian IVc, now capable of sustaining life for the founding members of the Federation - and much more beside. The moon was an abundant den of greenery and wildlife, all fast-growing, all quite large. Deforestation for settlement had proved a permanent crusade. Thus was Haydorian IVc only lightly inhabited, settled by those who had built up lives and business in harmony with nature. Thus was a quiet corner of Haydorian IVc perfect for her purposes.
But no amount of reading had prepared her for the rush of heat and sound and greenery that hit her as the transporter beam dissipated. After weeks - months - on starships or, at best, in cities, wildlife surging into her senses was an almost overwhelming feeling. They had been beamed to the lower slopes of a long ridge of hills running like a spine through dense woodland, and here the canopy of leaves and branches above bowed down to greet them. Sunshine was blotted out in patches, casting them into warm shadows as if the forest itself welcomed them into its cosy embrace, all of them co-conspirators of some secret nestled among the trees.
The warmth and smell were humid, and all around came chirrups and startled rustling as the nearby wildlife bolted at their manifestation. But once Valance had with one blink confirmed there were no immediate threats, she turned to Atal, weight already on the balls of her feet as if he might lunge.
But he was not looking at her. Out of his cell he seemed bigger, but he was still thin and long-limbed for a Klingon, more like a reed bending in the breeze than the brutes she’d fought of the D’Ghor. Already his nostrils had flared as he turned to take in the sights and the smells of their surroundings, and as she watched, he looked back to her with a curl of the lip. ‘Perhaps,’ he allowed, ‘this will suffice.’
Anything had to be better than his cell, she reasoned. He’d agreed only warily, and submitted to the injection of his subdermal comms device. She still had her combadge, the only piece of equipment or technology to hand, nestled on the layer of her woodland gear closest to her skin, under her jacket. In orbit hung the shuttle Percival, manned by Ensign Harkon and Brig Officer Lieutenant Vakkis, keeping a transporter lock on them as often as possible and maintaining scans of the area to be sure there were no civilians within fifty kilometres.
But apart from that, they were on their own. Valance turned and pointed up through the canopy towards the ridge-line of the hills, rising up with less dense woodland. ‘We walk the spine,’ she said. ‘It looks like it’ll take significant hiking without any real need to climb. Hard going enough to wear us down.’
‘Necessary, if we’re to gain the focus for the Long Walk. To exhaust and drain the body in isolation from the burdens of the outer world, and then meditate upon the shadows within us.’ Still, he shook his head. ‘But if we are to survive this, then before the hills, Commander, we should find water.’ He looked about the woods and sniffed the air. ‘This way.’
There had been a sneer to his voice as his use of her rank, and she followed with tense shoulders. ‘There are rules,’ she reminded him. ‘You stay in my line of sight unless I give you permission otherwise. We go where I say we go. If you breach any of this, if I think you’re not committed to this undertaking, I’ll comm the Percival and put an end to it.’
‘The Long Walk is an opportunity for me to, if not shed my dishonour, then rediscover some scrap of honour. Or a chance for me to at least perish as I try. I have far, far more to gain here than you do.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘And this will be nothing for either of us if you are not committed.’
‘Why is that your concern?’
He looked ahead, already moving through the trees like he’d walked these woods a thousand times, lithe and deliberate in his movements. ‘The Long Walk is for the lost and dishonoured to find their way. It is not for observers. Otherwise you and I are merely on a walk, and I cannot truly cleanse myself.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘I’m committed.’
‘Truly? Then what is your name?’
‘You know my name. We’re not friends.’
‘And the Long Walk is not for a Starfleet commander. It is to stir the beating heart of a Klingon, so a warrior may find themselves again.’
For a short time, she didn’t answer. He didn’t press, and then the woods cleared and the sound of rushing water reached her, and they stepped through the trees to stand before the narrow river bubbling and bursting away from the hills they would soon climb.
‘There,’ Atal said. ‘We follow this up the slope. Take on water as we do. I expect to endure for two or three days without more if we part from the stream and find no other. You are the same?’
Normally, she got those questions from humans. They wondered how Klingon she was, but it came with the undertone of asking how different she was - how monstrous she was. It smarted less from Klingons, but Valance knew that was likely because she cared less for their approval, and often it came with the assumption she was smaller and weaker. But Atal spoke simply, plainly - a question with no ulterior motive.
She nodded. ‘I can last. If we’re lucky, we’ll follow this long enough to see through to the end without another.’
‘And if not,’ said Atal, turning to follow the river uphill, ‘we will perish, or fail.’
And again silence fell for long minutes. There were no paths here, no easy footing, but the river provided some decent footing without heavy undergrowth or trees, and the slope was still gentle. It would get harder later.
Valance picked her way over roots before she spoke again. ‘Karana. Daughter of Jodmang. Of the House of A’trok.’
‘Very well, Karana, daughter of Jodmang. Let us see what we find in these woods and hills, and let us hope it is ourselves.’
She glared at his back, and wondered how many of her crew he had killed. ‘I still don’t trust you.’
‘You shouldn’t,’ said Atal, without looking back. ‘Until this is over I am still a shell for the D’Ghor, and the D’Ghor demand blood.’
Dathan slammed her palm on the CIC control panel as the holo-display flickered. ‘Damn it,’ she hissed. ‘Can’t you keep power systems stable for one blasted hour?’ Endeavour’s time in drydock was badly-needed, but it meant the engineers crawling all over her like mice on cheese were constantly rerouting systems, especially in the shattered power arrays. Anything that wasn’t a bridge operation had been cutting in and out for the last day.
She gritted her teeth as she realised the last five minutes of work had been lost, and smacked her combadge. ‘Dathan to Cortez.’
‘Uh…’ A muffled noise met her after a heartbeat, and when Cortez did speak, it sounded like she was talking around something. ‘Cortez here.’
‘I’m down in the CIC and the power to my systems keep fluctuating.’
‘Yeah, we’re tryin’ to - hang on.’ Clattering came through the comms. ‘We had to reroute power conduits on Deck 7 down to the array on lower decks while we fix everything up. We’re just patching it back in now. Sorry.’ She didn’t sound very sorry.
‘CIC is an essential system -’
‘Not by any definition I received, it ain’t. Unless it getting turned off is about to kill anyone or the like, it ain’t essential.’
‘Do you want me to track and analyse ongoing D’Ghor movements, Commander?’
‘Don’t care, Lieutenant.’ The rank drop sounded intentional, and Dathan swore internally as she realised her gaffe. ‘I want to get Endeavour fighting fit. I’ve not switched you off once. Now, I need to be in about eight different places at once, and Deck 15’s power systems should be done in an hour or so. Deal with it.’
‘I have to finish reports for Admiral Beckett -’
‘Blame me personally if they’re late, then, and I’ll tell him same as you: I’m currently dangling upside-down in a maintenance hatchway ‘cos the grav-plating here’s going wild and I had to strap myself to a ladder - look. It’s one hour for you. Rest of the week for me. Sorry, Lieutenant, but it is what it is. Cortez out.’
The problem with engineers, Dathan mused, was that they cared less than anyone but doctors about Starfleet protocol and politics. It still left her swearing to herself as she tried to repeat the last five minutes’ work with all intuition or mental momentum lost.
Which was how Adamant Rhade found her two minutes later when he walked in with two steaming mugs. ‘Lieutenant?’
She stopped and peered at him through the holo-projection. ‘Lieutenant Rhade. What can I do for you?’
He raised an eyebrow and lifted a mug as he approached. ‘Coffee. If you recall?’ The corner of his lip curled at her nonplussed expression. ‘I see not. Yesterday, at the end of your shift. We passed in the corridor and said we ought to catch up. It’s almost lunchtime so I thought I’d stop by.’
She only dimly remembered what had probably been some polite comment to fob him off. But despite her aggravation at her work, Dathan knew it wouldn’t do for her to continue alienating Endeavour crewmembers like she’d just alienated Cortez. Assuming a sheepish air, she took the mug. ‘Of course. Thanks.’
‘You sound as if you’re struggling here.’
‘I’m not struggling, I’m -’ She was getting heated, and didn’t know why. While it ostensibly helped to be as useful and competent as possible, Dathan suspected she’d been putting too much of herself into this work, that ancient blazing instinct that she was only safe so long as she had value getting the better of her. These were not the people to whom she needed value.
But she did have to successfully infiltrate them. ‘I have a lot to analyse. Endeavour might be recovering, but my responsibility is primarily to Archanis Sector operations. You shouldn’t consider me just a member of this crew, but a field officer for Fourth Fleet Intelligence.’
He put one mug down on a flat panel beside her, and stepped back to observe the whole map display. ‘That’s a lot of hot-spots. I assume this is hypothetical.’
‘USS Devastator intercepted communications between the D’Ghor and the Orion Syndicate indicating a possible massive upcoming assault. Multiple teams have reported the confirmed warp signatures of D’Ghor vessels. Based on this intelligence and known movements, I’m trying to identify the most likely targets.’ She took the mug and had a swig. Searing hot, but more flavourful than the fare she was used to - like everything on this Endeavour. ‘What I really need is for the sensor array to be finished.’
‘The involvement of the Orion Syndicate’s odd,’ Rhade pointed out.
‘Of course. So I’ve started to map the movements of their ships and highlight their known points of interest. But nothing’s certain.’
He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. ‘You have a theory.’
Dathan hesitated. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘You’re speaking very vaguely about something you’re putting a lot of work into. I don’t think you’d do that if you didn’t have a specific lead or hunch.’
On the one hand, it was discomfiting that he’d read her so plainly. On the other, it gave her license to speak. ‘Alright.’ She set the mug down and reached for the holo-display. ‘I think that all of this attention of our analysis on the Archanis Nebula is flawed. The D’Ghor know we know about it, and even if they have a lot more knowledge of the region, I’m not sure they’re hiding in plain sight. The limited information the Empire are giving us doesn’t suggest they’re sneaking en masse over the border.’
‘If they’re not crossing the border, that suggests they’re already here,’ Rhade said. ‘You think the Syndicate are sheltering them?’
‘I think the Borderlands were once the home of some serious Orion networks. I think they were then Imperial holdings for wars against the Federation and the Romulans. And with the Syndicate operating from the region since before it fell under Federation control, there has been a lot of infrastructure they’ve been able to use.’ She pointed at a cluster of systems at the edge of the sector, just within the Orion Borderlands, though the region was loosely defined. ‘We’ve operated on the assumption the D’Ghor couldn’t be based out of Federation space because there’s no way they could have established a foothold. What if they’ve hired a foothold from the Syndicate?’
‘It’s a reasonable guess. Theory.’ His lips twitched. ‘I assume you’ve sent this up the chain.’
‘I will, once I get some blasted stability in CIC and can properly present my findings.’ She hesitated, and wasn’t sure why she said, ‘Admiral Beckett’s replaced me.’
‘Replaced you?’
‘Technically he just has a new Intelligence Advisor. One Commander Lockhart. I was his Strategic Advisor. I expect she’s doing much the same work. But also I now report to her, instead of directly to Admiral Beckett. Theoretically only for the duration of this operation, but…’
‘You think he won’t need you on his staff afterwards.’
‘Not in the same capacity.’ She had been over-confident. So convinced she would be able to prove herself an invaluable part of the Director of Fourth Fleet Intelligence’s staff that he’d never get rid of her. Even though Beckett was infamous, as she’d discussed with Rourke, for cultivating officers and then spreading them about Starfleet to do his bidding.
‘I appreciate that in the admiral’s office you had your finger to the pulse of many affairs. But would it be so terrible if you stayed here?’
‘As you say, it’s not on the pulse of many things.’
‘But you seem considerably more engaged on the front line. You’re eager to get your hands dirty, so to speak, in ways I expect you cannot from a desk.’
Dathan gave him a sidelong look, and again disliked how well he seemed to read her. Thus far he’d only read her mask, but he’d still picked up on clues she hadn’t meant to send. It meant she’d have to tell lies interwoven with the truth. ‘I’m going to focus on this one assignment at a time,’ she said at last. ‘However… you’re right. I prefer to not be desk-bound. Which is a problem if Lieutenant Kharth is going to hold my combat record against me.’
He tilted his chin up. ‘Reports indicate you fought perfectly ably during the boarding action.’
‘My records and my experience don’t exactly…’ It was one thing to lie about this to Carraway. But Rhade was the closest Starfleet got to a professional soldier. ‘It was never important that they reflect one another before now. But I expect Kharth is going to play this by the book to spite me.’
‘I suspect that right now, Lieutenant Kharth is going to follow the book because she has no reason to do anything else, and hasn’t the time or inclination to look deeper,’ Rhade said with, Dathan thought, unnecessary kindness.
She drummed her fingers on the controls. ‘I expect you have a lot on your plate,’ she said. ‘With the Hazard Team.’
‘My daily duties are all but suspended while we’re in drydock.’ Rhade gave a gentle smile. ‘I would be happy to conduct training with you, Lieutenant. Either to assist in softening the edges in your capabilities, or making sure your records reflect your true skills.’
‘I don’t…’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I’ve not tried to mislead anyone. But there truly are things I can’t talk about, in terms of my experience and my skill.’ A dark part of her laughed at how horrifically truthful this was.
‘Lieutenant Dathan.’ Rhade turned to look her straight-on. ‘Are you committed to the crew of Endeavour, her mission, and her principles?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then it would be my honour to help make you ready for our challenges ahead. By skill or by paperwork.’ He nodded at the holo-display. ‘I shall let you return to work. But I’ll book us some time in training. Good day.’
She watched him go, and knew there was no reason to feel guilty. After all, it was her job to lie to him. After all, she was committed, with every fibre of her being, to the crew of Endeavour, her mission, and her principles - just not this starship Endeavour.
But after all, she’d some day have to kill a man as competent, dangerous, and insightful as Adamant Rhade.
* *
Valance couldn’t say she’d really meditated, though the Long Walk demanded such in lieu of sleep. Sitting on the cold, hard ground of the untrodden ground of the sloping hills had been bad enough, but she wasn’t unused to such hardships. Klingon physiology gave her considerably more hardiness in physical challenges than any of her peers, and she’d never taken it for granted. She’d been more likely to resent how it set her apart.
No, the trouble came from not wanting to let her attention drift in case Atal tried to throttle her. He’d given her little reason to believe he’d cooperate; death by her hands in a fight or simply fleeing into the woods of Haydorian IVc and taking his chances was a better prospect than his cell on Endeavour. The forlorn hope that something like the Long Walk could begin to restore his honour, let him die as a warrior committed for Sto’vo’kor, was not enough to make her trust him.
They had built and lit a fire, for such helped focus and drove away predators that might interrupt their reflections. And so she had sat beside it, her thoughts far too much on their immediate surroundings and his immediate threat, and watched him sit unmoving until dawn.
But he had been unmoving. And so they had pressed on, up the next rise of the tumbling hills of this ridge-line cutting through the forest. The trees were still thick enough that they had little by way of view, but the mid-morning had come with a bright sun and a pleasant breeze and the trilling of birds on the canopy above. So soon into their excursion, it was easy to feel like they were just on a walk, and not a spiritual undertaking.
‘Did you reach any conclusions in your meditation?’ Atal said after an hour, still leading the way. ‘Or were you too busy staring at me, Karana?’
It felt like an intrusion, still, for him to use her first name. But of course, to him, it was just her name. ‘We’ve covered that I can’t trust you.’
‘Perhaps, but if you do not dig into your hearts, you are but an observer, and there is no chance for either of us to cleanse ourselves.’ He shrugged. ‘No matter. It is but one night. There will be four. Soon our bodies will weary, and our minds will drift from these temporal concerns to focus on our beating hearts.’
She had to try. She knew that, though she resented him for it. But if he didn’t take this seriously, there was no hope for the surrender of any intelligence, and so she had to take this seriously. For the Federation, if not for herself.
That, she chided herself as they marched on, is exactly the sort of belief that he thinks makes you dishonoured.
Then Atal came to a dead stop, and despite herself she halted and sank to one knee. A threat out here demanded a low profile, and his poise was that of someone who had seen danger. ‘What is it?’ she breathed.
He slowly lifted a hand to her, gesturing for her to stay still, and on the wind came his low response. ‘Dinner.’ Then he gestured for her to skirt around to the left.
They had to work together if this was to have meaning. Gait light, Valance did as he said, looping around to the left as she peered ahead and tried to spot their target. Only once she reached a thicket of trees did she see it, hunkered down amid the undergrowth on a flat stretch of the rise: something furry and hunched over, resembling to her eyes a rather large rabbit.
After a day without food, the thought of killing it, skinning it, and cooking it made her stomach rumble. She at once saw what Atal intended; they were both downwind, but he’d moved her to the likely direction of the creature’s bolt-hole. And indeed, as Atal approached with what was to her perfect silence, he was two metres away from the beast before its head snapped up, its nostrils twitched, and it bounded away.
Atal pounced, but he was too late, and as expected, the creature burst through the undergrowth towards her. She was stock-still until she wasn’t. The creature tried to jump away when she lunged, but she got a hand on it and let instinct take over.
The part of her that was raised in the Federation, that ate from a replicator and had a fondness for the finest restaurants of San Francisco, whimpered in discontent as she wrung its neck. The Klingon part of her growled in satisfaction of a task necessary for survival.
And then all of her screamed inside that she needed to move, which was the only reason Valance rolled out of the way and avoided disembowelling at the claws of the large, ridge-backed beast that lunged at her with a mighty roar. Whatever they had found and killed was not some small, rabbit-like prey. It was a cub. And its parent was angry.
Perhaps it was once destined to become some mild-mannered herbivore, but then terraforming had altered the scope of life on this moon. Now it was longer of maw, sharper of claw, larger of paw, and far, far more furious. But Valance didn’t have much time to think about this as she rolled away from teeth and claws and faced off against a would-be killing machine.
It was at least smaller than many of Earth’s bears. That was about where the good news ended, and the beast tried to deliver more bad news with a growling roar and swipe of claws. She jumped back, and couldn’t think to find a branch of makeshift weapon - didn’t have time to do anything but keep moving, bobbing and weaving between the trees, and avoiding being mauled to death.
This would be a very embarrassing end to either the mission or her life. Even one blow would break bones and set her bleeding and force them back to the Percival, assuming she survived the experience.
The beast swiped, she ducked. It lunged, she side-stepped, only for her ankle to catch on the undergrowth and while she cleared the attack, she stumbled. The creature planted its feet, roaring, and she was granted a good view of overgrown jagged teeth, and a putrid scent of breath.
Then Atal fell on it from behind, lunging on its back. One hand curled in the scruff of the beast’s neck, while the other brought down a large, sharp-edged rock on the back of the skull. The beast roared and reeled, and Valance took advantage to snatch the nearest loose branch she could find.
It broke when she drove it into the beast’s open, roaring mouth. But she kept going, driving it in and then beating the creature’s face as Atal, still atop, kept up his frenetic strikes. And as suddenly as the creature had burst into view, filled with rage, something struck brain and the beast shuddered and went limp.
Valance staggered back, catching her breath, but Atal made sure to get in a few more good blows. Only once he was satisfied the beast was still and would not rise again did he look up, face spattered with blood, teeth gleaming. ‘As I said,’ he growled. ‘Dinner.’
She hefted the cub she’d killed that had started all this. It would be easier to carry than a whole beast. ‘You could have let it kill me.’
‘Today I chose to see what the Long Walk would do for me,’ said Atal, stepping back and dusting off his hands. ‘Today, you and I have faced death and difficulty together, for no reason but ourselves. No masters. No duties. No honour or dishonour. Only us.’ He let his head tilt back to the sky, and licked the blood his tongue could reach from his face. ‘What does your heart tell you, Karana?’
‘That we live.’ She went to inspect the beast. ‘That we worked together and survived.’ That this didn’t need to happen if we hadn’t been indulging some ancient, pointless cultural practice. But the cynical voice was harder to hear under the rushing of blood in her ears.
‘More than that, surely? Not just life, but what life is for?’
She looked at him. ‘I answered the first question. You should answer that. Why did you burn to survive?’
He scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘Instinct, first. Perhaps… perhaps because I know where this road ends if I die here, dishonoured, a dog slaughtered by a beast on this moon. Perhaps the uncertainty is better, even when there are many ways it might end that are no worse.’
‘You live so you have a chance, Atal.’
He gave a low, rueful chuckle. ‘It is a while since I fought a battle that was not of my own making - either enemies I hunted, or those I had wronged hunting me. That was not for the D’Ghor. It is simpler against a beast, no? There is nothing to prove.’ He looked at her. ‘Now. Tell me you thought of something but that this is a mission for which you need to survive.’
‘I thought…’ Valance frowned at the body. ‘I thought, “I’m not done.” Not just with the mission. With me.’
‘Mm. The Long Walk reminds us that we, and honour, are perpetually a journey, no? That if I accept dishonour, and you accept your place outside honour, then we have given up. That is why we would not reach Sto’vo’kor: we have to strive to get there. If we die without striving, we do not need to work to get to Gre’thor; the Ferryman will take us.’ Atal shrugged, then gestured at the game in her hand.
‘Bring that,’ he said. ‘It will be dinner. Tonight, we eat - and tonight, we reflect on our battles.’
They’d followed the river upstream, its route for now following their path and keeping them watered, and that night it led them to a nook nestled against the rock and shielded from the elements where they could stop and rest. Both Valance and Atal had the survival skills to build a fire with very little, but Atal had to use his teeth to prepare their game for dinner.
While her Klingon physiology meant a few days’ hike without food was unpleasant but not prohibitive, especially with a supply of water, a hot if gamey dinner and a warm fire were more welcome than Valance had expected. Whatever concerns she had about the meat evaporated as quickly as the meal did.
Atal gave a low laugh as he watched her eating. ‘All our security - our cooks, our replicators, our dining halls - forgotten in a heartbeat.’
She wiped her greasy fingers, and shrugged. ‘Not forgotten. Just irrelevant.’
‘Mm. No distractions. Only us.’
‘Only us,’ she agreed, and looked up at him. ‘Why did you join the D’Ghor?’
His nostrils flared briefly, but when he looked at the fire, Atal’s eyes were tired. ‘I was sworn to the House when it was discommendated. Do you know why that happened?’ She shook her head, and his lip curled. ‘D’Ghor economically exploited the weaknesses of the House of Kozak. When this was uncovered by a Ferengi, D’Ghor challenged him to personal combat. The Ferengi refused to fight, tossing aside his weapon, and D’Ghor was prepared to strike him down anyway. Gowron saw all of this as dishonourable, ejected him from the High Council, and the house was decreed dishonoured for generations.’ He prodded the fire with a long, sturdy stick. ‘I was a young warrior who had fought for Gowron in the civil war. But my family were all sworn to D’Ghor, and upheld their oaths. I did not turn my back on them.’ His gaze flickered up. ‘So I am dishonoured.’
‘That was a quarter of a century ago,’ she pointed out. ‘You stayed with them all along?’
‘If you had to choose between your family and your Federation, whatever you chose, would you find it easy? I expect not.’ Atal shook his head. ‘But make no mistake. It has been a long twenty-five years. The glories of the House of D’Ghor are faded. Our resources are depleted. There is much loyal warriors have done to fill the dark within us where once the satisfaction of glorious battle lit a beacon. And to fill the coffers so we do not curl up and perish in some forgotten corner of the quadrant.’
‘Gowron took your honour with D’Ghor’s. And then you became D’Ghor’s weapon.’
‘So it is for all who were there since the start. Some of us thought ourselves free - free of Gowron’s rule, the restraint of the Empire, able to wander and find our own glory. They learnt soon enough that this was condemnation, not freedom, for nowhere could we sate our needs as true warriors. No worthy battles. No honourable regard.’ He shrugged. ‘Others thought themselves bound by a different sort of honour, a different sort of duty - committed to D’Ghor, honourable in our own way. But in the end, we all became alike: embittered. Furious. Vengeful. There is nothing for us but slaking our thirsts and ending our lives on our own terms, and D’Ghor gives us that. To those who were there all along. To the wretched dogs who slunk to his sides in search for blood.’
‘There’s a human saying,’ Valance mused. ‘Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.’
‘So it is,’ said Atal, but his voice was low, empty. ‘And I await hell with eagerness.’
‘I would hope,’ she said carefully, ‘the next few days give you options.’
A beat passed where Atal poked the fire. ‘You think I am different to the others. The ones you met in battle, the ones you cut down with your blade and blasted with your phaser. You think I am set apart, more thoughtful, more redeemable.’ He shook his head. ‘The only difference is that they have surrendered their minds to the darkness, the fury, the hunger. I am no less wretched or vicious. The only difference is that I know what I am.’
‘Most of the D’Ghor in our cells wouldn’t even consider this. Or they’d have tried to kill me immediately. You are different. That you know what you are gives you the capacity to change,’ she pressed carefully.
‘People everywhere are different.’ He glanced up at her. ‘That I know what I am means I understand the pain I have caused for dozens, hundreds. I hear their screams and know what they feel. I know I cause it for nothing but so Gre’thor hears the howls of my enemies and shudders at my coming. I know I cause it because that is all I have in death - and all I have in life is what the D’Ghor have given me.’ Atal pulled his stick back and straightened. ‘I know what I am, and it is monstrous. I know what I am, and I accept it. You should have more pity for the dumb beasts of my comrades who see and smell nothing but blood. I? I have chosen this carnage with deliberation and with thought.’ His lip curled again, and he tossed the stick onto the fire before crossing his legs.
‘Enough talk,’ he decided, and shut his eyes. ‘It is best we reflect.’
* *
The red of the emergency lights pulsed in-time with the throb of blood as it thudded in his ears and oozed at his wounds. It felt like a beckoning, a lull into the shadows in between, and as he lay on the hard deck and felt life spill onto the metal, he wondered if he could surrender to it.
It would be easy. Stop fighting, stop gasping, and slip free. Let Davir die, let Davir end, and pass on the burden of Airex to someone else - some unsuspecting youth ignorant of all the darkness and secrets it would bring.
The silhouette cutting through the pulsing lights above should have brought more shadows. But the hands over his, over the wounds, were tight and warm, and the bright eyes fixing on his pierced through all darkness.
‘Dav, come on.’ Her voice came as if from a long way away - not distant, but calling him, bringing him back. ‘Stay with me.’
He wanted to say, ‘Forever.’ Or perhaps apologise, or perhaps explain; perhaps, perhaps stop time and say a thousand things. But when he found his voice, all he could croak was a desperate question, because for all he’d done to her, one responsibility always came first: ‘Airex?’
And her gaze hardened. ‘No, Dav - he’s okay, the wound’s too high up, they didn’t get him - forget about the damn worm for a moment, okay? Focus on me, focus on my voice…’
Then bright light, real light, flooded in as his eyes shot open and he awoke with a raking gasp.
‘Easy, Davir, easy.’ A warm hand reached his shoulder, stopping him from bolting up, and the world flooded into Airex’s senses. Sickbay. A biobed. Greg Carraway sat by his side. ‘You’re alright, we got you. Everything’s over.’
‘The ship,’ he croaked, blinking fast. ‘We were boarded…’
‘Repelled them. The ship’s fine. We won, we’re in drydock. You were wounded, but Doctor Sadek’s stitched you back together…’
‘Specifically,’ said the new shadow appearing at Carraway’s shoulder, ‘you were stabbed twice in the lower chest with blows directed upward that pierced your left lung.’ Sadek sounded matter-of-fact as she read the display next to his biobed. ‘This caused a hemopneumothorax, so we had to drain your lung of blood before we could repair it, which meant surgery. But the real problem was the blade was long enough to pierce the wall of your heart and cause tamponade. Which is why it’s days later and you’re still here.’
‘Did -’
‘You’re going to make a full recovery, but I want to keep you under observation in Sickbay for another twenty-four hours,’ Sadek continued, still utterly dry. ‘And your symbiont is fine, Commander. Not so much as a scratch, didn’t go into distress despite your condition.’ She snapped her medical tricorder shut. ‘So I asked the Counsellor to be here for when you’d wake up, as you’ve got nothing to worry about for your health but, you know. Stabbed.’
Carraway looked up at her. ‘Doctor, I don’t -’
‘I have a great bedside manner, but today I get to delegate.’ She jabbed a finger at Airex. ‘Don’t sit up. Make Carraway bring you things. Rest.’
Airex lay back, blinking as the doctor left, before his gaze fell on Carraway. ‘I appreciate the concern,’ he said, throat very dry, the ache in his chest making a lot more sense now. ‘But with this prognosis, considering we were attacked, you must have people you need to see.’
‘I do,’ said Carraway calmly. ‘You’re one of them. It was a traumatic experience. I’m not asking you to dive into it right now, but you woke in agitation and I want to make sure you can rest.’
His gaze went to the ceiling. ‘Who did we lose?’
‘Thirteen crew,’ said Carraway, and listed them, ending with Palacio, which made the ache in his chest worse. The Hazard Team member had been one of his lab techs. ‘You were one of the most seriously injured, but Elsa was badly hurt on the bridge, too.’
‘The rest? On the bridge, I mean?’
Carraway watched him a moment. ‘Everyone’s okay,’ he said. ‘And the Kut’luch has been destroyed. It’s over, for now. Endeavour’s undergoing repairs and we’ll worry about the next step, then. You can rest. You should rest.’ He patted Airex’s shoulder. ‘A lot of people were worried about you. I’m sure Commander Valance would be here, but she’s on an away mission. Lieutenant Veldman’s been holding down the fort in your department, I’m sure she’ll drop by. I’ll let Lieutenant Kharth know -’
‘Sae…’ His throat tightened. ‘She won’t want to come down.’
The counsellor’s honest brow furrowed. ‘I don’t know what history you two have, Dav. But I saw her in the aftermath. She saved your life on the bridge and she might not be the most expressive person sometimes, but she was downright beside herself about you.’
Airex closed his eyes. ‘Then I don’t want to see her.’
A long silence followed, and he heard Carraway sigh. ‘Okay, Dav. You don’t have to see anyone or do anything you don’t need or want to in your recovery. I want to make sure you’re comfortable, that you feel safe and secure. But we are going to have some more sessions later to help you process what you’ve been through.’
‘This wasn’t my first traumatic injury, Counsellor.’
‘Your records -’
‘Davir’s never been stabbed. A power conduit once exploded in Tabain’s face and he died in a shuttle accident. Obrent was once mugged. Lerin -’ His last host’s experiences of violence threatened the edges of his memory, and he did what he’d always done: pivoted away, let them flood past him without fighting or embracing them. ‘This wasn’t my first traumatic injury.’
‘Trauma isn’t something you necessarily harden to, and if it is, that’s not necessarily healthy,’ Carraway said slowly. ‘I want you to rest, but if you find the attack dominating your thoughts, we should discuss it. It’s the best -’
Airex’s hand shot up to grab Carraway’s wrist, and firmly he pushed the counsellor away. ‘I have lived five lifetimes, Carraway. I have seen the heartbreak and the bloodshed of two centuries, of some of history’s bleakest moments, of some of the darkest depths to which people can sink. A fight on a Starfleet bridge where we won is nothing. I don’t need Valance. I don’t need Sae - Lieutenant Kharth. I don’t need you. I need whatever medical care Doctor Sadek can get me, and then I need to go back to work.’
Carraway’s gentle smile had faded, but he looked neither surprised nor wrong-footed. Carefully he twisted his hand, pulling out of Airex’s grasp. ‘Okay,’ he said, voice low. ‘You get some rest, then, Commander. But I’m still going to check in once you’re discharged. And we’ll take it from there.’
Airex slumped down as Carraway left, shutting his eyes and letting the quiet hubbub of Sickbay wash over him. But it wasn’t enough, not once alone, to push everything completely back. Not the shadows he’d lived in between every heartbeat between every pulse of blazing red. And not the light of bright, clear eyes, calling him back.
* *
It was a clear evening, so even with the low fire burning low she could see by the light of the night sky and all the shining spots among the blanket of black. But most nights had been like this after long days, and the third day had been no different. Tromping on, up the peaks, across the ridges, but they’d had to part from the river mid-afternoon at last, and Valance suspected she’d had her last drink until the end. One more day and one more night and hard travel between now and then, but it was almost over.
And she was nowhere closer to conclusions than she’d hoped.
‘What would you do?’ she’d asked Atal as they’d made the fire. ‘If I let you go free now, what would you do?’
He’d looked at her as if she were a fool. ‘Return to D’Ghor.’
‘Even if you didn’t have to? Even if you could go anywhere in the galaxy.’
‘Where would you go if you had the same freedom? Would you consider doing anything but returning to your ship?’ He shrugged at her blink. ‘I thought as much.’
‘It’s not the same. Loyalty to the D’Ghor cost you your honour, your place in Klingon society.’
‘And you surrendered your choice and purpose to Starfleet, which is why you’re here,’ was the simple, blunt answer.
They were out of meat and had no drink, so there was no evening meal for them to busy themselves with to avoid further talk. Valance let herself walk about the periphery of their campsite, wanting to roam further, wanting to climb the rocky outcropping they’d chosen to bunk down next to for shelter from the elements, but she couldn’t let Atal out of her sight. So she prowled like a caged creature, knowing he was watching her, even as he kept the fire roaring so the embers would burn brighter and longer into their night of meditation.
She settled down only when he had. Her nights of meditation had so far been nothing but sitting and waiting, too tense to surrender her thoughts. Too cynical, she knew, to embrace the uncertainty of these rituals. That had given her two evenings of sitting and waiting, of watching Atal, of silence ruling as she fought off her own contemplation.
This time, Atal spoke once she sat down across the fire from him. ‘On the third night, we reflect,’ he said, voice rumbling in a way she knew wasn’t meant for her. ‘Still ahead of us is the walk. Still ahead of us is darkness. At this, the longest dark of the longest walk, we turn inward, and await the wisdom of Kahless that nestles in our hearts.’ He closed his eyes. ‘And if all we hear is silence, our hearts are too lost, too dishonoured, too far from the way of the warrior to hear.’
His voice sank to mumbles, invocations of concepts she never truly believed, entreating Kahless as if he were more than a long-dead man or a distant Emperor, and Valance found herself staring at the fire.
This is stupid.
Why? Because it’s inconvenient to give his words weight?
The response in her head sounded like Rourke, but not the Rourke she’d spoken to days ago. Not the Rourke who’d watched her greatest failure on the Derby, whose life she’d fought for tooth-and-nail in the Azure Nebula. This sounded like the Rourke she’d first met, the man who’d existed more in her head than in real life - the brute and the outsider, who cared nothing for her judgement or for trying to trust her.
The man who’d made her doubt herself, and then gone on to show why that doubt was foolish and misguided.
‘This is stupid,’ she breathed to herself, to the Rourke in her head. ‘You don’t want me to stop listening to Starfleet.’
That’s not what he’s saying. He’s saying you make yourself an obedient officer without question because otherwise you’d have to trust your own judgement. You’re not lost, or dishonoured, or a failure of a warrior because you serve Starfleet. If you are all those things, it’s because you don’t trust yourself and so surrender yourself to Starfleet instead of deciding your own fate, or nature, or future.
With a frustrated hiss, she shot to her feet. Across the fire, Atal popped open one eye. ‘Far from our usual paths, it is much easier to see things we would prefer to ignore, no?’
‘I’m not like you,’ she snarled.
Atal closed the eye. ‘You have to be, or you would not be here,’ he pointed out. ‘But there are many ways you can be like me. Which in particular are you afraid of?’
‘I’m not a killer.’
‘Hm.’ Atal shifted his weight to get more comfortable, as if her interruption was a wholly incidental part of his own internal journey. ‘And yet, I am.’
Set after the return of the Vondem Rose.
--------------
When Carraway opened the door to his office, Rourke didn’t expect the counsellor’s first words to be, ‘Well, it’s about damn time.’
Rourke stepped in cautiously, brow furrowed. ‘Is that what you say to all your patients?’
‘Just recalcitrant captains. Tea?’ Carraway gestured him to one of the comfortable seats as he made for the replicator.
‘I didn’t really come here for you to do that thing where you ply me with tea and then sarcastically savage me for stupid thoughts,’ said Rourke, but he did sit reluctantly sit down.
‘I’m not a sarcastic man by nature, Captain. Must be what you drive me to.’ But Carraway still wore that infuriatingly kind smile as he sat across from him at the low, comfortable table, and set down the little tea set. ‘I’m just teasing you. Because that puts you at-ease more than if I sincerely offered to listen and support you through your problems. Which is possibly something you should think about.’
‘I’ve been best friends with Aisha Sadek too many years to not respond better to sarcasm.’
‘And yet, you’re here.’ Carraway set out a plate of biscuits. ‘It’s been a hard few weeks.’
‘I’m not here to talk about that.’ Rourke worked his jaw, sitting back on the chair to glare out the window. With the low lights, the brightness of Haydorian Prime gleamed enough to be the greatest source of illumination in the office. ‘Lost crew and the ongoing mission against the D’Ghor and - you can pick my brain when that’s all over.’
‘If you’d taken a gut wound halfway through a mission, Captain, would you ignore it and power through? Or get medical aid so you didn’t bleed out before the end?’
‘If I didn’t have time to have a medic patch me back together, I’d apply pressure to the wound and finish my task,’ Rourke said warningly. ‘I don’t want to talk about Elgatis.’
Carraway sighed. ‘Then what’s on your mind?’
‘The Vondem Thorn. Or Rose.’
‘You’re not sure your deal was the right thing?’
‘I know my deal was the right thing, even if Admiral Beckett and Task Group 27 might not thank me for creating a new terror on their doorstep. I’m sure this terror isn’t worse than the one we’re facing. And the deal paid off - they didn’t just find the Kut’luch, they…’ He clenched and unclenched his hands. ‘They finished her off.’
Carraway squinted him at a moment. Then said, ‘Oh!’ and went to pour the tea.
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, that makes sense.’
‘It does?’ Rourke scowled. ‘I wouldn’t be down here, Counsellor, except I can’t think of a reason it pisses me off that someone else got the kill which isn’t either infantile or macho.’
‘And you don’t want to be a macho man?’ said Carraway in a jocular tone, pushing a steaming mug towards him.
‘I’m comfortable enough with my masculinity to not need to be the guy who “gets the kill,” or something, to feel good about himself. Why does this make sense? Am I… I don’t know, afraid it reflects badly on my duty?’
‘If Starfleet accepts your justification for making the deal, then this sounds like a professional success. You weakened the Kut’luch, and then rather than abandon the mission or endanger your crew further, you made use of a local resource and turned those freelancers into an asset to Starfleet operations.’ Carraway gave himself a generous spoonful of sugar. ‘That doesn’t sound like it would reflect badly.’
‘So I am just being a macho idiot.’
‘I don’t know. Tell me what annoys you.’
Rourke sighed. ‘I feel like we left a job unfinished. I feel like I should have confirmed the destruction of the Kut’luch myself - not that I don’t believe Captain Sadovu, but that I should have seen it through to the end. Maybe gone with them.’
‘That’s silly,’ Carraway pointed out. ‘If you believe Captain Sadovu, then your presence would change absolutely nothing. Except for, maybe, in your head. So what would make it different in your head?’
Rourke grabbed the tea, though it was still too hot. ‘It feels irrational.’
‘Rationality’s overrated. Rationality’s usually an excuse for us to ignore or overlook our feelings, as if they don’t shape and dictate vast swathes of our lived experiences, relationships, perceptions. You’re not a tricorder, Captain, so don’t expect your feelings to give you these theoretically objective readouts.’
‘I know. And I trust my instincts in my work a lot, even if I can’t always quantify them. But this…’ He hunkered over and shook his head. ‘It’s driving me up the wall and I can’t make sense of it.’
Carraway sighed and seemed to take pity on him. ‘You don’t want to be the one who finished off the Kut’luch because that’s what duty demands. Or that’s what pride demands. Or even because that’s what vengeance demands. It is, I’m afraid, even more basic and fundamental than any of that.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The Kut’luch slithered into our lives as the bogeyman who killed all those people on Talmiru, then harmed us with the mine, and lurked and waited for us at Elgatis, all before we ever encountered her. Then she and her crew were so violent and deadly they were prepared to cripple or kill themselves just to get a chance to go for our jugular themselves. This wasn’t about personally finishing a mission to eliminate a threat to innocents.’ He met Rourke’s gaze, his kind eyes sympathetic, but understanding in a way Rourke hadn’t found them to ever be before. ‘We spend our lives trying to slay our demons. Usually those are personal and internal. This time they were flesh and blood. That’s what Captain Sadovu took from you by finishing the job. She denied you the chance to slay the demons.’
Rourke stared at the tea, and hated that this made sense. ‘That still sounds a bit petty.’
‘It sounds human to me. We always want control over the things that can and have hurt us.’
‘So how do I stop it from bothering me?’
Carraway sighed, and picked up his mug. ‘It’s very easy,’ he said, ‘and yet, very hard. Because what you’re going to do next is try to grit your teeth and live with it, and cope with it while we finish this mission, while we finish driving off the D’Ghor. And then, to stop it from bothering you… you sit down with me to discuss how much they’ve hurt you.’ The counsellor gave a small shrug at Rourke’s suspicious look. ‘I wish it weren’t that way around. But I know you well enough by now, Matt Rourke, to be sure that if I tried to schedule you a session to talk about Elgatis, you’d say you have an awful lot of work.’
‘It’s not a lie; we’ve got the joint mission with the Odyssey and the -’
‘Then I guess until you’re ready to face and finish off the demon internally,’ said Greg Carraway, ‘you’re just gonna have to live with the fact someone else finished them out there.’
* *
In the distance, storm-clouds gathered.
Valance kept an eye on those distant skies all morning, and told herself their approach was too slow to be worried about. They would end their march at the end of the next night, and if the wind kept up, be long gone before the storm arrived.
But Atal hopped to an outcropping at one point on their march, this tall peak ahead the last they would tackle, and shook his head at the west. ‘We will have a cold and wet night.’ He chuckled. ‘All the better to focus.’
‘That helps?’
‘When the body is worn and battered, hungry and cold - when the body is no longer the place I want to be - that is when my mind is most free. Have you not had that freedom yet, Karana?’
‘I have been free enough. I understand my duty and my place in it.’
‘To be the pet Klingon of Starfleet? Kept on a leash, barking and rattling the chain at their behest, a demonstration of the caged beast in all its power?’
‘That is not -’
‘It is what they see. However perfect your control, they see what you are restraining. And sometimes, they want to let you loose.’ He glanced over his shoulder, smile coming with a glint of fang. ‘Against monsters like me.’
‘If you think you’re still a monster, this has been for nothing.’
Atal didn’t answer for a little, and they kept climbing. The blue skies directly above were turning more fat and blue as tufts of clouds began to crawl in at the edges, like ink spilling over porous paper. ‘We have both chosen duty to those who wield us. Both surrendered ourselves to them, become their blades.’
‘I believe in the principles of Starfleet.’
‘And I believe in D’Ghor and his offspring. Even Kuskir.’
‘Even?’
‘He wants…’ Atal sighed. ‘We seek hell. We will make it, and conquer it, and ride on the ferryboat to plant our boots atop the throats of the damned. That is our purpose; to be monsters in this world to reign in the next. D’Ghor understands it. His daughter D’Ghenas, who will likely rule after him, understands it. Kuskir…’
‘Is chasing glory. That’s what this is about, no? He’s picked on Starfleet not to be as heinous and horrific as he might, but to provoke fights across borders, fights so unusual that word of his deeds will travel.’ Valance squared her shoulders as they scrambled up the next, rocky section of the rise. ‘You don’t approve.’
‘It is not my place to approve or disapprove.’
‘This is the Long Walk. Contemplating your place is the purpose.’
But Atal did not respond, and the storm-clouds drew closer.
Hours later, it seemed like he was right. They should have had another three hours of daylight, by her expectation, before the skies were turning grey and the wind was picking up and the sun was blocked out by the promise of the tempest. And only when a thick gust of wind tackled them, a chilling embrace contemplating hurling them off the rise, did Atal speak again.
‘We should find shelter,’ he said gruffly. ‘Our travel has come to an end. We contemplate the storm.’
A little time later, they found their spot: a flattened patch of rock next to a sheer rise which would block the worst of the wind, a short outcropping shielding against the rain. Trees were thinner and thinner the further they’d come along this climb, but by now they knew to grab wood as they went along, and Atal without a word set about building their fire.
‘If this works,’ Valance said as he tried to spark a light, ‘will you talk here and now? Or back on Endeavour?’
‘If this works, I’ll be warm,’ said Atal, and went back to blowing on embers.
‘I mean the Long Walk.’
Flames flickered to life, delighting in their fuel. Above, the wind howled, and firelight gleamed off Atal’s fangs. ‘It is curious. If I agreed with your definitions of honour, I should never have been dishonoured in the first place. No?’ He looked up. ‘I was dishonoured for nothing that I did, and you respect my loyalty.’
Cautious, Valance hunkered down beside the fire. ‘Your misdeeds since make that irrelevant.’
‘But I would not have committed those had the Empire - had warriors who never met me, heard of my deeds, heard my name - passed judgement. The Empire declared me monster, and then howled in outraged when I acted as such.’ He dusted off his hands. ‘Remind me why I should beg and scrape for their acceptance?’
‘I don’t care if you want the Empire’s acceptance. I care if -’
‘You care if I tell you the secrets you want to know. And you care if I can prove to you that we’re not the same.’ He looked up to the skies at a fresh howl of wind, and beyond their outcropping, thick drops of rain hit the hillside. ‘We both subsumed ourselves to the wills and wishes of others, and became what they made us. But when all of that is stripped away - service, duty, principle - we both fight tooth and nail, claw and fang, and let the blood of our enemies flow.’
‘You could say that about anyone who serves a master,’ Valance pointed out. ‘By uniform or oath or obligation.’
‘Then why do you fear me, Karana? If what I have said is so universal as breathing?’ Atal rose, the flames biting high between them. ‘Why do you need me to absolve you? Or do you see too much in a man who sacrificed his every being, his every instinct, to be what those he believed in needed him to be?’
Valance swallowed. ‘Perhaps.’
‘You and I will never emerge from the Long Walk with the clarity we both need for absolution if you do not accept the darkness we share, Karana.’ He shook his head. ‘Starfleet. D’Ghor. A warrior fights for himself, for his own battles, and chooses to follow the Empire or a House because they - they are like a beacon. You and I have both subsumed our own selves to be what others need. We have chosen to throw our honour into these pits, regardless of the cost to ourselves.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘And when they cut us loose, we both revel in the blood and death all the same.’ Atal stepped closer to the fire, though it had to be scalding, and dangerous as the jagged wind wrapped around the hillside and jerked the flames this way and that. ‘We will never finish this Long Walk if you pretend we are not the same. Monstrous shells filled by those to whom we are devoted. Killers on leashes. We are the same.’
Valance stared at him, finding her throat dry. She tried to speak, but the wind picked up and howled as it tore between the rocks and trees, denying her whispers, denying her the safety of words in hushed tones to be stolen and cast away. With a raking breath, she tried again. ‘Fine. We are… similar.’
‘You feel it. The thudding heart of a monster straining to be free. You unleashed it on my comrades, but you hear it all the time, howling within you.’
‘Yes.’
‘So you surrender yourself to others, to a cause - those you trust, those you respect - with the hopes that if they cannot make something better of you, then at least they can use you. Wield you like a blade.’
She swallowed. ‘Yes.’
Atal nodded, lip curling. ‘Then all we are, Karana, are monstrous shells.’
Valance hesitated, then thought of the mission. And nodded. ‘We are.’
‘I am glad,’ he said, voice a low rumble that still carried over the roaring wind, ‘we have that clarity. That agreement.’
Then he kicked the burning logs of the fire at her.
Ash and embers surged up to meet her, and Valance reeled back, protecting her face. In an instant Atal was on her, lunging over the ruined fire to drive his shoulder into her chest, and the two of them went down, tumbling from fire and flames and into the wind and rain and shadow.
She felt his fist drive into her side, and while her ribs held, the spot that had been broken before howled with pain. Her elbow came up a blow against his shoulder, and over and over they rolled, punching, kicking, clawing. But he was bigger than her, and bent like a reed in the wind against her blows, and had the element of surprise. Thick rain hit her face as he slammed her onto her back on the rocks, hands wrapping around her throat.
‘I know,’ Atal hissed, ‘exactly what I am. I know exactly what I do, you pathetic dog, you mutt. Chasing the Federation for scraps. Chasing even me for scraps. Pathetic.’ She clawed at his hands, at his arms, but he’d knocked the wind out of her and it was fruitless. ‘Perhaps I die here. Perhaps I walk free. But if I do not kill you, Commander Valance, then you know today I broke you. Ripped you open and showed you your darkness. Some day I will see you in Gre’thor, mongrel.’
She tried to jerk her fingers at his face, raking and desperate, but he tilted his head back as if it was nothing, his longer arms keeping their iron grip. Dark spots swam in at the edge of her vision, and her hands went to the side, grabbing aimless fistfuls of rock and dirt.
‘I accept my duty to the D’Ghor,’ he continued. ‘I accept the purpose they give me. And I will ride with the Ferryman, slay him if I must, and storm the gates. It is who I am. And you are no better, no better than me.’
Then she slammed the fist-sized rock she’d found into the size of his head, and knocked him over. Blood spattered across her face, onto her hand, and she rolled onto her front, gasping for breath as he fell back, reeling.
‘Better than you,’ she rasped, forcing herself up, ‘at winning.’ Her kick to his ribs knocked him over, but he rolled with it and, battered though he was, came up on one knee, poised before her. Already the lashing rain was wiping the blood from his face, plastering his hair against his cheek. But his movements were slower, not like the bending reed she’d seen before, and she knew her blow to his head had been vicious.
‘At killing?’ Atal gasped with a twisted grin. ‘I hope so.’
They came for each other, blood gushing from his head wound, her throat and lungs still burning from his throttling. And still they matched one another blow for blow, counter and riposte. Then she landed a solid punch in his gut and he reeled back, before she kicked his feet out from under him.
And now it was her turn to be atop him in the lashing wind and howling rain, and the rock in her hand itched to be used again.
‘Do it,’ Atal snarled. ‘If you dare.’
‘I’m not a killer like you are,’ she spat.
‘But you are a killer if duty demands.’ He lay flat on his back, not fighting back, eyes flickering between hers and the raised rock. In the distance, thunder rumbled. ‘Give me this. Give me the end, here and now. Tell them I tried to kill you, but you killed me first.’
‘Why the hell should I do that?’
Atal drew a shuddering, hungry breath. ‘Kuskir planned to cause chaos and blood in the sector, and once enough of Starfleet were gathered - worthy foes gathered - launch one singular attack. One glorious battle.’
Valance hesitated. ‘When? Where?’
‘I don’t know, but - use your Starfleet wiles, watch the border, watch the D’Ghor’s movements.’ His eyes widened. ‘Now do it.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re pathetic.’ It came out more realisation than condemnation. ‘You dragged me here hoping, hoping you’d find a way out, or a way towards honour, or at least a way to make me suffer, drag me down with you. And failing all of that, you… all you had left was your loyalty to them, and now, now you sacrifice that?’
He swung a fist up at her, but with her free arm she knocked his blow aside, then grabbed him by the front to slam him back against the rain-slicked rock. ‘No,’ she snarled. ‘You don’t get to die in a fight. Not because I give a damn how you live or die, but I won’t let you lure me here to beat your brains out for some final satisfaction. You don’t get that.’
Atal gave a desperate roar and tried to surge up again, and while her fist came down it was without the rock, a blow to the face which again slammed him back and left him reeling. Blood oozed from his nose and the wound on his head, the rain storming from above unable to wash it all away, and Valance’s hands were now just as stained.
She looked up to the bleak skies, let that rain rush over her face, and knew that wouldn’t cleanse, either. Then she reached into the lower layers of her field jacket, and found the combadge. ‘Valance to Percival.’
A beat, then Lieutenant Vakkis’ tense tones. ‘Percival here. You’re early, Commander.’
‘It’s over,’ she rasped. ‘Two to beam up.’ Her gaze went back down to Atal, stunned and lying there, listless and beaten. ‘Be ready to secure the prisoner again. It’s over.’
Rhade blew his cheeks out as he watched the target glow and go dead at the phaser blast. The alarm confirmed what he already knew: that was every target hit, and the exercise still had five seconds left. ‘Very well,’ he said, trying to sound casual. ‘That’s Level Twelve.’
Dathan, stood in the middle of the shooting range, looked across at the hovering targets she’d struck and lowered her phaser. ‘Let’s run that again.’
‘Again? You don’t want to move on to Level Thirteen?’
‘I want to get it one hundred percent.’
‘Fourteen shots, fourteen hits registered.’ He double-checked on his PADD’s display. ‘That’s perfect.’
‘Target Fox was a little off-centre.’ But she hesitated, then nodded. ‘As you say.’
He tried for a kindly smile. ‘Lieutenant Kharth won’t know, or hold it against you. The computer records say it’s good enough. Good enough for deployment in a security team, at that. Let’s call it a day.’
She looked like she might argue, but again nodded and holstered her phaser. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant. If this is what’s needed for me to see fieldwork…’
‘I dare say you’ve seen enough fieldwork. But I’m happy to help make sure your tests reflect your skill, if you let the official grading fall by the wayside while you worked.’ He killed his PADD’s display and led them out of the training yard into the Hazard Team’s empty locker room. ‘If you want more, I would also be happy to help soften some of the rough edges.’
‘Rough edges?’
Rhade looked back at her and smile reassuringly. ‘You’re perfectly effective, Lieutenant. I’d work on some points in your posture. It would make you more accurate and help keep you balanced for changing targets or evading. It’s quite normal for the more self-trained.’
‘Oh.’ Dathan went to the locker for the training weapons, returning the phaser and holster and letting him seal it back up. ‘Thank you, but you’ve spared more than enough time for me these few days.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ he assured her. ‘I have the time, and in practice all I had to do was administer tests you flew through.’ He met her gaze. ‘If the time comes, you will be ready.’
‘It’s not over with the D’Ghor,’ she reminded him. ‘When the time comes.’
She left to let him shut down the training yard, left more empty than he would like in their time at Haydorian. Rhade knew it was essential the Hazard Team get back to work, but more precious was the chance for them to have a breather and blow off some steam before they were back in the line of fire. As she said, that was a question of timing, not possibility.
Timing gave him a small favour as he left the Hazard Team facilities for the Security Offices, and spotted an unexpected figure at a desk, talking to Lieutenant Juarez. He frowned and approached, seeing the stacks of PADDs both of them carried. ‘I expect you’re both departing soon?’
Juarez glanced up with a lopsided smile. ‘Yeah, I’m on the Galahad in ten. Was just helping Lieutenant Thawn out with some copies of our tactical assessments.’
She looked up at Rhade, dark eyes cautious. ‘I’m on the Aquarius with Lieutenant Kharth, ah - I just need to grab these and then I’ve got to meet her at the transporter room.’
‘I’ll walk you,’ he offered, and though he tried to make it sound like a gentle suggestion, her nod was tense enough that he suspected she just didn’t know how to say no.
She was silent as they entered the corridor, and he grimaced as he fished for how to begin. ‘You’ll be working with Lieutenant Kharth for a few days?’ Her nod was, again, silent. ‘We spoke a few days ago, she mentioned… that I should speak with you.’
‘She did?’
‘You’ve seemed worn the past few days. Stressed.’
‘There are lots of reasons to be a little worn out right now,’ she pointed out rather primly. ‘There’s this search operation, and I’ve had to jump in on plenty of the repair work which has needed my support as sysadmin…’
‘Then what was Kharth talking about?’ He hesitated as she didn’t answer. ‘I’m not here to pry.’
‘But here you are. Prying.’ Thawn stopped and turned in the corridor to face him, pale but still tense. ‘We’re not - we’re not friends, Adamant, we don’t know each other, and me giving you a chance for us to get to know each other doesn’t give you an access permit to my thoughts and feelings.’
He straightened. ‘I know. I wouldn’t impose. But Lieutenant Kharth -’
‘Is also not my friend.’ Thawn finally fixed her gaze on him, nervous though she looked. ‘I’m busy. I’m tired. And she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’ She gestured down the corridor. ‘I have a mission.’
He swallowed, and nodded. ‘Then I apologise. My concern was well-meant. I misunderstood and thought a friend - thought someone who knew you better - believed you might benefit from my aid. Please accept that this was all I presumed.’
She sighed, but nodded. ‘Of course. It’s fine between Kharth and me. Thank you for your concern.’
But her body language made it clear she didn’t want him to follow her further and, far from convinced, far from understanding, and far from believing the crew of Endeavour had the slightest inkling of how to engage with these emotional challenges, Adamant Rhade did as he was bidden, and left.
* *
‘I passed on word,’ said Rourke, not looking up from his desk at Valance. ‘Of your intelligence report, I mean. Lieutenant Dathan knows, Admiral Beckett’s office knows. Without specifics, and from such a dubious source, it’s hard to be sure…’
‘This was always the interrogation of a low-level unit leader,’ Valance pointed out. She was still in her field gear, still drawn and weary, but had insisted on reporting to his ready room the moment the Percival was back on Endeavour. ‘Aside from intelligence on the Kut’luch itself, this is as good as we might have expected.’
‘Better,’ mused Rourke, ‘with the Kut’luch now destroyed.’
‘Yes, sir.’ She paused. ‘Did Admiral Beckett have any comment to pass on that?’
‘We demonstrated a most appropriate local asset was hired and empowered to take action against the D’Ghor. No formal breach of the Imperial border was committed, and I doubt the Empire has grounds to complain when they’ve barely lifted a finger to help.’ But the implied criticism still stung, and Rourke looked up, gaze level. ‘Was the ritual enlightening, Commander?’
She didn’t react. ‘I was there to interrogate Atal, at your insistence that my experience of Klingon culture would make that possible. I believe it was as successful as possible.’
He grimaced. ‘I know I pushed you.’
‘You gave me an assignment, sir.’
Was that all it had taken, he wondered? One incident of him pushing her hard on such apparently delicate ground as her Klingon heritage for all of their hard work building a rapport these past few months to come tumbling down? But if her brusqueness wasn’t just a result of exhaustion from her days of work, that exhaustion wouldn’t help them work through this. With irritation turned to guilt, he nodded. ‘And you did an exceptional job, Commander. I’m grateful for the personal effort you made.’
That made her mask shift, though not fade, and her shoulders reacted one iota. ‘Thank you, Captain.’
‘I wouldn’t presume to lecture on matters of Klingon honour. But know that trusting you with this assignment was nothing less than a mark of the great faith I have in you, and the regard I have for your abilities. And that you have nothing to prove of your worthiness to me, or this ship.’
Valance’s eyes went skyward for a moment. ‘I appreciate that, sir. The D’Ghor - fighting them hasn’t been easy, sir.’
He sensed that wasn’t what she’d originally intended to say, but knew he’d not earned the right to push after what he’d done. ‘This is one more blow against them. And one step closer to the end. We’ll finish this, Commander.’
She nodded. ‘We’ll finish this.’
‘Go sleep for the next twenty-four hours. Commander Cortez suggests we’re within thirty-six hours of being technically ship-shape, but no doubt she’ll want longer. That’ll be up to Starfleet and the D’Ghor. If this operation with the Odyssey throws up trouble…’
‘I’ll sleep, sir. But if we make contact, raise me. I’ll be ready.’
‘You’ve gone four days with minimal food or sleep. I appreciate you may have enjoyed a solid hour and a ration bar on the shuttle, but I’ll use my judgement,’ he said, tone at last wry. ‘Now, off with you, Commander.’
Perhaps one badly-judged argument about the D’Ghor and Klingons with his first officer hadn’t undone all of his good work. But Rourke had little chance to reflect on that as a message pinged on his desk console within ten minutes of Valance’s departure, and it was with an irritated sigh that he checked the duty roster.
Would that he could summon officers out of thin air. But until then, he needed to head down to the Operations Departmental Offices, which were quiet with a decent chunk of staff either on shore leave, light duties, or assisting Engineering. The absence of both Thawn and Athaka on the sweeping operation kept it even quieter, and he did not press Petty Officer Bekk in the corner, bright-eyed with some diabolical deed of quartermasters that he knew better than to ask about.
‘I didn’t think you’d be here,’ he said when he stuck his head inside Josephine Logan’s office.
Sat at her desk, she jumped and turned with a bashful smile. ‘Matt. Sorry, it’s a state in here…’
‘It’s a state everywhere,’ he said, and ducked in. ‘But seriously, why aren’t you planetside?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Honestly, the ship being docked for a few days is the best time for me to work. Do you know how many projects I’ve had to suspend or have been interrupted when we’re in the field the past few weeks?’
Rourke folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the closed door. ‘I’d understand if you want to head for Starbase 27 until we’re done in the sector.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s… you need to work, it’s dangerous here…’
‘This isn’t the first time Endeavour was in danger,’ she pointed out. ‘My work is all about monitoring the usage of bio-neural circuitry in the ship’s computer systems, and if I could do that from simulations alone, I suppose I would still be at the Daystrom Institute. But live, immediate data from a volatile and changing scenario is essential. And the D’Ghor crisis has caused all sorts of new findings in data…’ Josie reached for a PADD, then hesitated. ‘I suppose you didn’t come down here to ask about that.’
He suppressed a smile. ‘I didn’t. But I’m glad your work’s getting on alright. And I’m glad you’re alright. I’m not used to commanding ships with civilians aboard.’
‘I’m not - well, I am a civilian, but I’m trained and rated to be on a starship. I’m not like someone’s family member.’ But Josie got to her feet and waved a hand at her stack of PADDs. ‘Sorry, I didn’t offer you a drink…’
‘I’m fine. I’ve drunk enough tea to last a lifetime here.’
‘What an awful thought, to be all tea’d out.’
He looked down and smothered a smile again. ‘You’re right that I should treat you as part of Starfleet service. Especially as that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t - here.’ He handed her the PADD with his message from Cortez.
Frowning, she took it, biting her lip as she read. ‘Oh,’ she said at last. ‘That’ll take purging the automated repair systems and then updating them with the latest software, then running the backed up data from Elgatis through it. A lot of the systems were shut down mid-battle with the explosion, and I’d assume a lot of the connections were lost…’
‘Can you do it?’ He winced as she looked up. ‘Lieutenant Thawn and Ensign Athaka are on deployment.’
‘Oh! You need me to help with the repairs? You should have opened with that.’ She gave a sunny smile. ‘I’d be happy to assist Commander Cortez. I can’t imagine how difficult she’s had it…’
‘Yeah, I owe her about a month’s leave when this is over.’ He scrubbed his face with a weary hand, then found her watching him.
‘You’re going to take a month’s leave when this is over, right?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said reflexively.
‘Matt…’ Josie fiddled with the PADD. ‘I know I just spent five minutes convincing you to treat me like a member of your crew, but also I’m not part of your chain of command or - or anything like that. I can’t imagine how horrifically difficult it’s been for you these past few weeks. And I can’t imagine you’ve been rushing to talk to your staff about it.’
The surge of emotion was unexpected, and he looked away to her shelves of PADDs full of downloaded software, a physical library of digital material she said was like a manifestation of how her brain ordered her thoughts and plans. It had sounded needlessly complicated, but with the mental balls he’d been juggling these past weeks, it was now seeming more and more sensible. Maybe if he could put just one thought down he’d be less exhausted.
But if he stopped, he didn’t know what he’d do. ‘It’s not easy,’ Rourke said at last. ‘But I’ll rest when the mission’s over.’
‘I get that. But isn’t this a break?’ Josie pointed out. ‘It can’t be good for you to go back into the fight still wound up.’
‘There’s no good way to go back into the fight. But I’ll be fine.’ He forced a confident smile. ‘I appreciate your concern, I really do…’
Her face sank, but she nodded. ‘Okay. Well, if you need anything - if you need an escape away from people who don’t call you “sir” or “captain,” and don’t have to… then you know where to find me.’
‘In Engineering, now pulling eighteen hour-days to help Cortez,’ he pointed out wryly.
‘I like to be useful,’ she said, sunny smile returning slowly.
‘That’s one good thing about Endeavour,’ sighed Rourke, straightening up. ‘Useful people always find a place.’
‘This is it,’ said Adupon, gripping the pool table console in the heart of Main Engineering. ‘This is how we’re going to die.’
Cortez flashed him a grin. ‘Live a little, Addie.’ She bent over the system, chest tight with anticipation. ‘Warp 9.98… 9.985…’
In the space between the stars, in the vast void stretching between the Haydorian and Taldir Systems, Endeavour picked up speed and thundered through the expanse. Matter and antimatter collided in her shuddering heart, pumping super-energised plasma through the conduits, veins that threaded to the warp coils nestled within the nacelles. The twin pairs, such a rarity in Starfleet engineering, hummed in harmony to maintain and strengthen the subspace displacement warping space-time around them, a wave of propulsion catapulting them to their goal.
Many people had wondered why an engineer of Isa Cortez’s calibre had chosen to serve on Endeavour. The reasons were long and complex, and mostly personal. But also, it was exciting that a Manticore was really, really fast.
‘We’ve not stress-tested the systems for high warp,’ Adupon whimpered. ‘We expected a battle within a star system - we didn’t expect this -’
‘She can take it,’ Cortez murmured. ‘Increase power to the magnetic containment fields.’ The deck shuddered under them. Most people wouldn’t notice it, not even seasoned Starfleet officers. But they were Endeavour’s engineers. They knew her every shiver, her every hum.
Adupon’s gaze flickered down. ‘Warp factor 9.986. Isn’t that -’
‘Ten minutes off the journey, give or take.’ Cortez’s lip curled as she watched the display. ‘Warp 9.987. Better.’ To the layman, these were quibbles over degrees. To the engineer who understood the exponential increases at these warp factors, mere decimals were the difference between arriving in Taldir in two days, ten hours, two hours. ‘She’s rated for 9.995.’
‘Which she’s made about twice since shakedown -’
‘And she’ll make it today, because this is our ship, Addie.’ She met his gaze. ‘We’re doing this. We’ve done this. She’s ready.’
Adupon narrowed his eyes, and it took her a moment to realise the expression wasn’t for her. They both turned their heads towards the warp core. ‘Is it supposed to make that noise?’
Cortez pursed her lips. ‘It’s a whir. It’s not a clunk.’ She cautiously glanced at her display. ‘Intermix chamber is stable. Deuterium flow is steady. Lattice matrix release is level.’ The control table began to rattle, and she subtly shifted her weight to lean against a metal panel to stop it.
‘Have you actually ever gone this fast?’
‘Sure,’ she said with cool confidence, then the display changed to show a speed of Warp 9.991. ‘No.’
‘Oh, hell -’
‘Listen. This is approaching top speed of one of Starfleet’s fastest ships. And by fast, I mean fast - not “fastest cruising speed” or “longest emergency speed rating”. I mean that we’re approaching the highest warp factor technologically achievable by any Starfleet ship. Most officers in the fleet haven’t gone this fast.’
The quiver in the deck intensified. Adupon audibly swallowed. ‘9.981. PTC temperatures are rising.’
‘3.1 million Kelvin. The conduits will hold to 3.5. Easy, Addie.’ She leaned over the table. ‘9.993.’
Adupon’s exhale was a wheez. ‘Oh, hell,’ he breathed again.
‘Every incremental increase of the deuterium release we can sustain, of pressure upon the antimatter magnetic fields we can sustain, of intensity of the warp core reaction we can sustain - of the electro-plasma flow, of the warp field generation and stabilisation - Addie -’ She stooped her shoulders to meet his gaze, and kept it. ‘Every shred we pour into this ship is another minute, another moment off our arrival time. That could be the difference between life and death for officers at Taldir, for civilians at Taldir, for people of the entire sector.’
‘I know, I know, I just…’ Adupon froze again. ‘9.995.’
‘Stabilise the deuterium release and antimatter flow,’ Cortez said, and both of them were back to business in the blink of an eye. No fear, no anticipation, no time for feelings. Just the thudding of Endeavour’s heart all around them.
She reached for the comms control. ‘Cortez to bridge. We are at maximum speed. I can give you this as far as Taldir.’
‘Good work, Engineering.’ The words weren’t empty, but she did have to fight an eye-roll. Rourke was sincere. He was tense, worried about the fight ahead, but he was sincere. It was just that, to him, bringing a ship to maximum speed was normal, was a machine doing what it was supposed to do. It wasn’t his fault; he wasn’t an engineer. To him, what she did might as well have been magic, and she might as well have reported that she’d cast her latest spell.
Isa Cortez, professional Starfleet Miracle Worker, spared a wry glance for the warp core, and even for Adupon, who in that moment was transformed from bundle of nerves to long-suffering fellow man of the cloth, understanding her pain in the face of the laity’s ignorance. Her lips curled. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, cutting the comms.
And went back to sustaining this miracle.
* *
Rourke all but burst out of the ready room onto the bridge. ‘Update?’
Valance was already on her feet, extending a PADD. ‘Starfleet forces holding. The defence of the Archanis System was wavering, but it seems Admiral Belvedere’s appeals to the Klingon Empire finally broke through. He’s arrived in the sector with a KDF strike force. Reports suggest this has provoked the D’Ghor to more vicious steps.’
Rourke took the PADD, jaw tight. ‘Breaking past lines… suicide runs on civilian holdings…’ His voice descended to a low grumble as he absorbed the horrifying status updates. He looked to the front. ‘And Taldir?’
Drake glanced back. ‘Twenty-five minutes out, Captain.’
‘Task Group 27 report holding the core worlds,’ said Valance. ‘But…’ She grimaced, and looked past Rourke to Lindgren.
The pale-faced communications officer had not left her post since they’d departed the Haydorian system, and even now she was leaning over her console, hand pressed to her earpiece. Rourke wasn’t sure she’d even noticed him, and with a nod to Valance he padded over. ‘Elsa?’
The tilt of her chin suggested she had known he was there, but hadn’t let him draw her focus. ‘USS Lune confirms defensive pattern holding around Taldir II and III and their moons. They redirected ships to support USS Ogden at Taldir IX when further Birds-of-Prey made a run for the habitat settlement there.’ Her voice was a low and level regurgitation of the facts, and her eyes did not lift. ‘USS Blakewater was protecting Taldir VII with the USS Pendle, but the Pendle is now drifting without power. The Blakewater reported six minutes ago that they had another Bird-of-Prey incoming, and it’s already a Constellation-class against two. It’ll be three in…’ She pressed a button, numbers flashing across her screen. ‘Seventeen minutes.’
Eight minutes sooner than Endeavour. That could be nothing in space combat; time for starships to hurtle towards another at impulse speed across vast distances and barely make a dent in a journey. Or time for them to blast each other apart. Or time for one Bird-of-Prey to simply outmanoeuvre Starfleet and head for a surface settlement.
‘How many people on Taldir VII?’ Rourke asked, and didn’t know why. The numbers wouldn’t make it better.
‘Approximately seventy thousand in total.’
He nodded, and looked to Drake, raising his voice. ‘Helm, we’re heading for Taldir VII. Plot a course to bring us out of warp as close to the planet as possible; liaise with Task Group 27 forces for their navigational data.’ Warp within a solar system was not impossible, merely desperately dangerous, and tenfold more so approaching a pitched battle. But the safest protocol had them dropping out of warp at the periphery of Taldir’s pull, and eking their way across the system for hours at impulse. They had used up all their hours.
‘Piece of cake,’ said Drake, as if he wasn’t in danger of catapulting them into another ship or even just a dangerously large piece of debris.
Rourke looked at Lindgren. ‘Tell the Blakewater we’re coming. And we are coming.’ She nodded, and his brow furrowed as he dropped his voice. ‘I know you’re alright. But are you alright?’
She gave him a sidelong look. ‘Are you?’ But the corner of her lip twitched the moment she said it. ‘I’m not confronting you, sir. But with respect, you’ve not fussed over anyone else on the bridge.’
‘Nobody else on the bridge sat through what you did at Haydorian.’
Lindgren took a slow breath, and finally met his gaze levelly. ‘Just tell me that we are going to come to the rescue this time.’
‘I promise,’ he said. ‘We’re the cavalry.’
‘Then I’ll sound the horn.’
* *
Down in Shuttlebay 1, the Hazard Team had not disembarked from the King Arthur. Their work at Haydorian had consisted of hurtling at breakneck pace from firefight to firefight, repelling warriors at Korthek Base and then the Rimus settlement, and they knew it wasn’t over.
But for all their training, for all their expertise, Dathan could tell they were not soldiers. Soldiers knew how to sit and wait and push away the nerves, the anxiety, even over excruciating hours. They denied the outside world purchase in their thoughts, denied anything of the future or past save what they needed there and then to make ready. Instead, officers paced. T’Kalla and Shikar had bickered in the first hour, until Rhade had sent T’Kalla to walk it off in the shuttlebay before she’d returned. People shifted fitfully. Ensign Harkon in the cockpit had started to play obnoxiously loud rock music, but nobody had demanded different behaviour from the pilot who would ferry them to hell and back.
So Dathan had stayed in her secure seat, checked her gear before departure, and done nothing but necessary fine-tuning work. When the twenty minute warning klaxon went off, she double-checked it again and was satisfied with the job. And she waited.
Rhade was walking the line, checking in with his people. He was the closest to a soldier, she thought, though there was not enough of an edge in him. Soldiers needed to hate their enemy, but it helped if they held at least a little fear for their superiors. Fear made them prefer to fight to the death than risk the consequences of failure. But Rhade settled them with warm words and assurances, and Dathan tried to not watch him so she could keep the disapproval from her face. Comfort would not keep them sharp. Encouragement would not make them prize death over defeat.
He came to her last, settling into his secure seat and strapping himself back in with his safety webbing before he glanced at her. ‘The team has your back.’
She frowned. ‘I know.’
‘You’ve done a great job so far. I’m comfortable having you watching our backs. That sniping shot on Rimus -’
‘Was accurate.’
His brow furrowed. ‘You’re not the outsider here, Lieutenant. You’re not the visitor who needs to keep herself apart. We’re going to reach Taldir, and we’re probably going to deploy again, and we’re going to fight more Klingons, and we’re going to win.’ He reached to put a hand at her shoulder, and it was just as well she was strapped in, because her instinct was still to shy away from such a move. But the corners of his honest, dark eyes creased. ‘I’m glad you’re here. We’re better with you here.’
Dathan met his gaze, and despite the surge from his words, she doubted such warmth would survive contact with the enemy. That was the problem with this Starfleet’s softness. They didn’t know how to endure against true darkness.
‘Ten minutes!’ came Ensign Harkon’s voice over the comms and from the front. ‘Bridge warns we might make an immediate deployment!’
‘Strap in, everyone!’ Rhade called, tightening his own webbing. ‘We’re here to save the day.’
The damning thing, thought Dathan, was that when Adamant Rhade said that, she believed him.