‘This is an unacceptable risk.’

With the mission looming, Rourke had every excuse to brush off Admiral Morgan. That hadn’t stopped the Midgard Sector Commander from inviting himself aboard Sirius and appearing in StratOps, the beating heart of squadron operations, just as they shifted to a war footing. He’d been even less happy to see Morgan wasn’t alone, Fleet Captain Jericho flanking him.

The last time Rourke had worked with Jericho to repel an invasion, the two men had all but tried to kill each other. He wasn’t eager for a rematch.

Rourke glanced around the gathered figures drawn from his squadron’s command staff, and decided, considering what was coming, that having this conversation publicly wasn’t the worst choice. ‘With respect, Admiral, squadron deployment isn’t up for debate. My orders are from Admiral Beckett.’

Morgan advanced from the doorway, moving deeper into StratOps. A circular amphitheatre, StratOps centred on a holo-display and control panel, ringed by staggered tiers of seats, workstations, and railings where officers gathered. At the perimeter, Morgan had claimed a commanding view of the activity below. Descending, he became merely part of the crowd.

‘You can’t seriously take those orders at face value,’ said Morgan lightly. ‘They speak of a massive invasion from a force our intelligence barely registers as a footnote in the Delta Quadrant. With a transmission of dubious provenance.’

Commander Harrian, the squadron’s strategic operations officer, leaned forward on a railing. ‘Cryptography confirms it, sir. No doubt – it’s legitimate.’

‘It’s ingenious, actually,’ added Captain Galcyon, skipper of the USS Liberty and the squadron’s science officer. ‘The use of the array to create a micro-wormhole through which to send the message bypasses the Blackout’s effects.’

‘Yes, thank you, Captian,’ said Morgan, acting, Rourke thought, as if Galcyon were giving needless levels of scientific detail instead of what Rourke felt was a succinct summary. Morgan turned back to Rourke. ‘If Midgard comes under attack, you can’t reinforce us.’

‘If Midgard’s hit,’ Rourke mused, ‘we won’t know. The catapult’s one-way.’

‘Does it even work?’

Commander Cortez straightened, bristling. ‘Yes, sir. Final tests are just a formality. It works. It’ll get us to Alpha Centauri.’ She looked exhausted. The graviton catapult had been her idea, though Rourke had green-lit it not because he’d thought it would work. He’d expected it to not. But it gave officers a project, and it gave everyone some hope. Now, it might give a whole star system some hope.

‘Thanks to your vigilance of the Blackout’s dangers,’ said Rourke to Morgan in a low, reassuring voice, ‘Sirius Squadron is here, together, and in a position to help. We won’t stand by while Alpha Centauri burns.’

‘We hardly know anything about the state of Alpha Centauri,’ Morgan said. ‘Which brings me to this incredibly risky plan to despatch a single ship ahead to scout and formulate a plan. What if the Vaadwaur intercept them? They’ll know you’re coming and be ready.’

Rourke felt eyes on him. Risk-averse, political Morgan thought he’d landed a blow. ‘I suppose,’ he said after a beat, ‘that’ll be a bad sort of day.’

Because everyone in that room was already aware of the risks.

‘Admiral.’ The low voice jumping in was Jericho, and Morgan looked at him with the expectation that Gateway’s commander was going to back him up. But Jericho slid onto one of the tiers, leaning against a railing like he was joining the assembled officers. ‘If the Vaadwaur hit Midgard, Gateway, Independence, Constantinople, and Asger will hold the line.’

Morgan shot him a betrayed look. ‘None of them are exactly Sirius, or Scylla, or even Redemption.’ Rourke caught Captain Faust’s eyebrows raise a hint at the word ‘even’ being used about her command.

‘And should Midgard come under attack, the people of Alpha Centauri will remember your bravery,’ said Rourke – careful, knowing he couldn’t lay it on too thick, ‘at leading that defence so they could be liberated.’

Morgan paused. Everyone here might have seen Rourke’s unsubtle gambit, but seeing it didn’t stop it from trapping the admiral. The wiry flag officer, used to smiles and meeting rooms and harsh choices made more about logistics at a distance, scratched his beard and took a beat to think.

He wasn’t, Rourke reflected, a bad man. Just the wrong man for this kind of fight. And that had nothing to do with military expertise.

‘This plan needs to succeed,’ Morgan said at length. ‘And I’m surprised you’re sending this Osler class first. Surely Endeavour –’

‘Can’t stay hidden,’ said Jericho, by now reviewing the planning information on the personal display beside him. ‘Blackbird has the technology and the talent aboard.’

Morgan’s lip curled. ‘A rather rag-tag group, aren’t they? Hardly tier-one operators. Mismatched training, a dubious selection of support personnel -’

‘They’ve got my backing,’ said Jericho. ‘Admiral, I know the squadron staff appreciate your input, but this is a plan made with the resources available. It can’t be perfect.’

The admiral’s eyes swept across StratOps and the gathered officers. With his protests deflected and even his assumed ally undermining him, he looked deflated. ‘I hope you’re aware that if this goes awry, Midgard won’t forget that Starfleet left them high and dry.’

‘Good thing you’re here to represent Starfleet,’ Rourke said brusquely. ‘Your care is noted and appreciated, though, sir.’

Morgan’s retreat was hasty, but strategic. And still, once the doors slid shut behind him, Cortez rolled her eyes.

‘He’s worried about the Vaadwaur? We’re the ones going into Federation heartlands, a place these guys have to have hit hard.’

‘It’s his job to prioritise Midgard,’ Rourke said softly. While he found Morgan tiresome, he couldn’t have his squadron staff, even the easy-going Cortez, mock him upon his departure. His eyes fell on Jericho. ‘I thought you’d be of the same mind.’

‘So did he,’ said Jericho with a shrug. ‘If they come, they come. We’ll handle it, or we won’t.’ He was frustrated, Rourke realised. Of course he wanted to come with them, instead of battening down the hatches and hoping the storm passed.

Rourke’s lips curled. ‘Can’t convince you to hop in the Asger and come with?’

‘Don’t tempt me.’

‘The admiral has a point,’ said Faust. She knew better than to directly oppose the plan, or orders from Fourth Fleet Command – at least publicly. Rourke could see her keeping her voice polite, thoughtful. ‘We’re leaving Midgard exposed.’

‘I considered leaving a division behind,’ Rourke admitted. ‘Or just bringing the command division. But we have to get this right, people. I need Galcyon’s ships for scouting, surveillance, intelligence – we know little to nothing about our area of operations or our enemy. It’s down to you to fix that.’ He looked at the captain of Liberty, the commander of the squadron’s science and exploration division, and Galcyon gave a small nod. She was not a soldier, he thought. There was debatably nobody under his command who better exemplified the classic explorer-scientist Starfleet captain. But she was smart and she was determined and if he set her the Vaadwaur and the Blackout as a puzzle, she’d solve it.

‘And Faust, I could leave you behind,’ Rourke carried on, ‘but I need Redemption’s guns, I need the Tempest on point defence, and more importantly, I need you and the Mercury picking up the pieces on any shattered worlds.’

Faust gave a gentle exhale through the nostrils and looked at Jericho. ‘You had best be right about your pet, Ranicus, Lionel,’ she drawled. ‘Because Morgan has a point about that. We handed a stealth ship to a pack of misfits and told them to lead the charge. I’m sure Cassidy and his team can gather the intelligence they need. Can they assemble an actionable plan?’

Lionel Jericho’s brow furrowed. ‘Commander Ranicus was my XO for years. There’s nobody smarter.’

‘Hm. Did she tell you that your Izar plan was fucking stupid a year ago?’

Rourke sucked his cheeks and considered interceding, even though he agreed with Faust, but Jericho gave a wry, wistful smile and sighed.

‘Not in those words. She checked if I was sure, which is about the same thing.’ The smile inexplicably grew. ‘I think she learnt something about blind faith in her superiors that day. If she’s got an opinion, she’ll say it.’

Harrian leaned forward on the railing. ‘I could hop onto Blackbird,’ he offered. ‘Take on the strategic planning.’

‘Cal, if this all goes to shit, I need you in here,’ said Rourke quickly. ‘Cooking us up a new plan if Morgan’s right and the Blackbird’s burnt and we’ve got Vaadwaur all over us the moment we get there.’ It was odd, he thought, that nobody was sticking up for Cassidy; not even Faust. Most captains in the squadron had someone in their corner, or they were in someone else’s corner. Else, benefactors from elsewhere in Starfleet looked in on a promising commander or a valuable project.

Cassidy and his team had been foisted on the squadron, it felt, and while Faust was the one with the background in Starfleet Intelligence, she didn’t seem to have much invested in him. He, his team, and his ship were about to be alone in more than one sense.

Rourke put his hands on the display panel and shook his head. ‘We know the drill. We know we don’t know what we’re doing til we get there. Brief your captains. Go over the material. Blackbird’s got forty-eight hours to lift the veil. It better be enough. Dismissed.’

They filtered out, all except for the one man Rourke didn’t have the authority to dismiss. Jericho was fiddling with display settings on his panel by the time they were alone, his feigned indifference unconvincing.

‘You could swap me for Faust,’ Jericho said once they were alone. ‘Reckon she’d enjoy defending Midgard as a last bastion of the Federation more than me. Especially if they don’t come.’

‘Don’t have authority for that.’ Rourke shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Besides. I’m leaving a lot of people behind. They need protecting.’ There’d be his daughter. Families of his close friends. And…

Jericho nodded, sobering a little. ‘You trust me with them?’

‘I trust you’re a git-hard, stone-cold bastard enough to fight tooth and claw against anyone who puts a foot on your turf.’

‘Yeah. Alright. That’s fair.’ Jericho scratched his nose. ‘The ambassador going with you?’

‘That’s the conversation I get to have next.’

‘Deciding that?’

‘Telling her she’s not.’

Jericho sucked his teeth. ‘Don’t envy you that.’

‘It won’t be fun.’ Under no stars would Sophia Hale accept being left behind. Under no stars would Rourke accept bringing her into another war-zone. ‘Suggest you make nice with her. She’ll be your best friend against Morgan and the Midgard civilian government.’

‘I was going to rely on my winning charm.’ He took a step toward the door, then paused. ‘I’m right about Ranicus.’

Rourke hesitated. ‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Because she’s one of mine. She’s Triumph-trained. That’s all the assurance you need.’

Another beat as Rourke wondered if he’d be terribly rude. Then again, if he’d expressed such support for the likes of Valance, only for that judgement to be questioned, his rage would be unfathomable. He made a diplomatic adjustment. ‘You had this… chant. On the Triumph. A kind of self-identifying thing. “Heroes and monsters.”’

Jericho’s wistful gaze returned. ‘It was a little rhetorical.’

‘It meant you could be shining beacons against the dark, or sling mud with the worst of them and still come out on top,’ Rourke surmised. ‘Which is she?’

‘See, Rourke, that’s the thing about me and mine.’ Jericho gave a wolf-like smile. ‘And it’s where you and I always differed. When your back’s against the wall, you don’t pick hero or monster. You’re both.’

It was not very reassuring, Rourke thought as Fleet Captain Jericho, commander of Gateway Station, former captain of the battle-worn USS Triumph, left him alone in the Strategic Operations Centre of the Sirius, flagship of the forces charged with the liberation of Alpha Centauri.

Heroes and monsters. Monsters and heroes. Which was he sending in this vanguard? Which would survive?

Which would win?