The Tempest’s security armoury was as lean and pragmatic as the ship itself. On a larger vessel, the department would enjoy extended facilities: the brig, a training facility, separate equipment lockers amidst a loaded armoury, ordered offices and briefing rooms for day-to-day operations. A Rhode Island, with fewer than a score of security and tactical officers, offered just a separate brig, then condensed the armoury and operational offices into a central facility, the heartbeat of the ship’s safety.

Bulkheads were lined with lockers and weapon racks, where phaser rifles stood upright in mag-clamps, hand phasers slotted in neat rows above chargers. A holo-screen at the far end, where teams would gather for briefings, displayed the sector map, overlaid with red tags where Renard had marked likely waypoints and hazards.

Commander Valois paused at the threshold before stepping inside. He told himself it was to give any of the scant security officers there a beat, a chance to notice the XO’s presence, but really he needed the moment to swallow the knot in his chest.

Renard stood at the display panel with her two security team leaders, deep in discussion. They snapped to attention at his arrival, but she didn’t look up, continuing her clipped instructions on team readiness until they’d departed. When she turned, her gaze was cool as glass.

‘Commander.’

‘Lieutenant.’ He didn’t know if he should match her formality as he stepped further in. ‘I thought we should review your plans for the captain’s away team. We’re not expecting an imperial starbase here. This looks like a scavenger town on a volatile world.’

Renard tapped the console, bringing up a deployment plan. ‘The captain, myself, and whoever she designates will go down on the Caliban. No more than six, to avoid presenting as an armed detachment. Phaser pistols only, a posture of deterrence without provocation.’

Valois gave a small nod. He disliked Pentecost’s intention to join the away team while he commanded Tempest, but telling her to send Sorren instead was a different argument. ‘Contingencies?’

‘Tempest remains in orbit with my two security teams on standby,’ Renard said. ‘The away team’s first response to trouble will be to withdraw. If exfiltration is compromised, squad one is ready to deploy by transporter, squad two by shuttle.’

Valois studied the display, the composition of the teams, including Renard’s notes on the contingent she’d clearly like to bring on the Caliban; a few extra armed officers. That was her fight to have with Pentecost. ‘My sector analysis suggests at least one House-aligned militia uses this place as a refuelling stop. If we face military trouble, the away team could get into a serious fight very fast.’

Renard did not blink. ‘Our strategy is to avoid confrontation until extraction. We’re not there to fight Klingons. We’re there to follow this trail, likely in negotiation with local junk traders.’

‘Avoidance is ideal,’ Valois agreed, trying to keep his voice mild, ‘but Klingons respect presence, not retreat. If they decide to test us, pulling back too quickly will read as weakness -’

‘Do you want me to stand my ground in the face of opposition, sir, or avoid military trouble entirely?’ she cut in, voice more clipped as she lifted her chin. ‘You’ve just outlined two conflicting scenarios. I’ll be with the captain, sir. I know the difference between standing my ground and starting a fight.’

Valois fought the urge to sigh, and as he rallied, he felt the silence stretch. He tried again, softer. ‘Of course I’m trusting you with the captain. And I’ll be here, in orbit, just a comms call away. If it goes badly -’

‘If it goes badly, I will get the captain back to Tempest. That is my responsibility. It will be done.’

The knot that had been in his chest coiled anew, not with apprehension, now, but frustration. ‘This doesn’t have to be like this, Lina -’

Her eyes snapped up. ‘Lieutenant Renard, Commander.’

The armoury seemed to grow small around him. He steadied his shoulders, not wanting to either sacrifice ground or impose himself on her space. ‘We’re not strangers. And we’re about to walk into one of the most unstable regions of the Empire. I wanted to discuss with you the captain’s safety.’

‘We have discussed that. And on the mission, I will do my job. That’s all that’s required of me. Of either of us.’

He almost smiled. Not because there was any amusement, or even pleasure in the exchange. But there was an edge to the barb that made him feel thirty years younger, bickering with his little sister, this childhood argument turned to ice by time and their uniforms.

But there was no playful affection left.

‘I didn’t even know you were aboard,’ he admitted at last, faltering. ‘The orders came from Admiral Morgan so fast. I’d have reached out.’ She didn’t say anything, watching him with level eyes. ‘We should have reached out, stayed in touch…’

‘To what end?’

‘We’d have known when your ship was going to dock at my station, at least! We’d have known what was going on in each other’s lives!’

‘What’s been going on,’ said Renard, that edge remaining, ‘is that I have been working, sir. Doing my job, being of service to Starfleet. You have been starting a new family.’

‘I’ve still been working,’ he said hotly, then realised that he’d heard the wrong jibe entirely. His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you angry that I re-married? Lina… I was alone for over five years after…’

‘I did not ask for you to account for yourself. I did not ask for anything, Commander. I am here to do my job. Do you have any more questions about this upcoming mission?’ Her hands clasped behind her back, but he saw her eyes latch onto a spot of bulkhead over his shoulder.

Once, even if angry, she’d have stood her ground, dug and prodded at him. Then they’d have laughed about it after. The age difference had never let them be close, but there had been that narrow window, between her deciding to go to the Academy and the sky falling down, where they’d shared something: Starfleet.

It was still all they shared. And it wasn’t enough.

Valois shook his head, frustrated and horrified and defeated all at once. ‘What happened to you?’

Her gaze drifted back to him, and he swore he saw contempt in her eye. ‘I could ask you the same question, sir. But I’m not asking. Again, was there anything more about the mission?’

He swallowed, the air in the armoury too thin all of a sudden. ‘No, Lieutenant. Carry on, Lieutenant.’

She turned away before he could, a clear dismissal banishing him from her space, despite the disparity in their ranks. He left, stepping into the corridor, where he paused, the ship’s hum steady underfoot, uncertain of his next move.

The armoury door sealed behind him.