Even sending word ahead of time, Commodore Rourke didn’t look particularly happy at Rhade coming to his quarters at 0400 hours. Nevertheless, the station commander ushered him in with a curt wave of the hand, still in pyjamas and a comfortable dressing gown. ‘Is this as bad as it sounded from the report?’

‘Worse,’ said Rhade, entering the CO’s quarters. On a starbase like Gateway, the commanding officer enjoyed a full, multi-deck apartment. Rourke was clearly in the process of moving in, some of the standard-issue decorations still in place, but any effort to make the rooms appealing was eased with the huge exterior windows stretching across the far bulkhead. At this time of day, the surface of Alfheim peeked at the corner. By the time Rourke should have been waking up, he could stand by the window and look down on the colony over a cup of coffee.

That came earlier today, Rourke setting a mug on the breakfast nook as he sat down. ‘A Romulan refugee’s been murdered within days of getting here, on his way to what we promised was a better life in Federation space. How does it get worse?’

‘You didn’t see the state of him,’ sighed Rhade. His eyes swung about the rooms some more. He knew Rourke lived with his teenaged daughter, who’d decided the frontier was a more exciting place to be than wherever she’d come from the core worlds, and at last her father lived somewhere he could keep family close. It also wasn’t a secret that Commodore Rourke and Ambassador Hale were in a relationship, but she was off on Teros, and still formally had her own rooms on the station.

‘Brutal?’ Rourke checked, bringing Rhade’s attention and thoughts back to the murder.

‘Thoroughly. Enough that I’m sure Kowalski will say that this is personal in some way – that someone truly hated this young man.’

‘That doesn’t preclude a hate crime,’ Rourke pointed out.

‘There’s more, sir. It’s… the only word for it is ritualistic. He wasn’t just restrained, he was restrained with chains. Then there’s the post-mortem impaling by an ivory horn. All of this is, at least, to send a message. But I don’t know to whom.’

If Rourke had been unhappy at being woken up, he at least looked a lot more awake now. He did not look more happy as he sipped his coffee. ‘You want me to put a lid on this.’

‘As much as possible. Which won’t be a lot once Kowalski starts talking to the refugees.’ Rhade winced. ‘Sir, I’m afraid Alfheim Colony will start to use this as an excuse to delay their settlement on the surface.’

‘You don’t need to be afraid of that. They’ll definitely use it as an excuse. They’ll say that we can’t put refugees on the surface if one of them is a weirdo ritualistic murderer.’

‘We can hardly punish them all for the suspicion one of them did this.’

‘Legally? It’s arguably grounds to delay the resettlement. There’s arguably a threat to the safety of Federation citizens. Never mind the Romulans are going to be hundreds of miles away from anyone on their own damn island. Morally, it’s ridiculous. But that’s what the people of Alfheim do, Commander, you’ll learn to realise. This isn’t the Core Worlds, with its high-minded ideals. For hundreds of years, Alfheim has thought itself the last bastion of the Federation on a fraught frontier, facing off against the implacable Romulans.’ Rourke rolled his eyes. ‘They don’t unlearn that overnight.’

‘I understand, sir. I’ll help Chief Kowalski get to the bottom of this ASAP.’

Rourke looked him up and down. ‘What got you into this in the first place?’

‘I was in the area,’ Rhade lied without batting an eyelid. ‘And it seems this should have a senior officer involved. Especially one who’s trained in security and investigations.’

There was a gleam in Matt Rourke’s eyes, and Rhade wondered how much, in another world, the station commander would have dirtied his hands with the matter himself. For years, then-Lieutenant Rourke had led his own security investigations team along the Klingon border. There was probably nobody on the starbase more qualified to run this murder investigation than him.

But those days were long passed, and now Rourke had to set that keen mind to the politics of local Federation citizens desperate to keep out the wave of refugees they’d played a key role in leaving to struggle for decades. ‘This is a hell of a time for Ambassador Hale and Rosewood to be gone,’ Rourke groaned, rubbing his temples. ‘I’ll talk to Captain Everard in the morning. Thanks for bringing this to my attention. I want you to stay on this case, Commander – don’t tread on Kowalski’s toes, he’s running point on the investigation, but stay abreast of things, keep me informed, make sure he has everything he needs.’

‘As you say,’ said Rhade briskly. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you at such a time.’

Rourke waved a dismissive hand. ‘It serves me right for complaining that all I had to do here was process logistical requests.’ He hesitated. ‘Do I want to see the full images from the murder scene?’

Thinking of it, hours on, made Rhade feel less like he might drown in the scent of blood, the imagined sense of pain, of slitting a throat, of the hate and ecstasy that had to come hand-in-hand from such a kill. Now, he had to swallow a hint of bile as he shook his head. ‘You do not.’

‘Alright. I’ll try to keep the Alfheim folks off your and Kowalski’s backs. You keep me abreast so I’m properly armed.’ Rourke rubbed the back of his neck. ‘We’ve got to have someone in Science with an anthropology speciality about Romulans. Or a friendly Romulan. Get a consult on the imagery.’

Linking the concept of a ‘friendly’ Romulan to Commander Kharth felt irrational, but it was where Rhade’s mind went under the circumstances. He nodded, then said, voice softer, ‘Have we heard from Endeavour lately, sir?’

Rourke shrugged. ‘Just that they’re all fine and are on their way back.’

‘They will be fine,’ Rhade stressed. ‘Captain Valance is an exceptional commander. The crew are all exceptional.’

‘I know,’ rumbled Rourke, a little defensive, a little wistful. If he couldn’t be elbow-deep in a ritualistic murder, he could have been back on his bridge. Now he had to stand on this frontier starbase and not only handle politics, but wait for news for his old crew’s long and likely-dangerous return home. That did not stop him from his own empathising, and his gaze flickered back to Rhade. ‘Are you alright, Commander?’

For one irrational moment, Rhade thought Rourke was asking about his nightmares. Then he blinked the memory back and remembered Rourke had no reason to think that the killing might feel so close to home. He cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘Endeavour being so far out. I know you and Lieutenant Thawn are separated, but…’ Rourke winced. ‘I also know divorce papers were in the last transmission.’

That, at least, was within the station commander’s remit. The man who had officiated their wedding was also in a position to see when next-of-kin information on their personnel files would change. ‘It’s not official yet,’ Rhade said, shifting his weight. ‘I expect we will need to speak to our respective families before anything is finalised. But we were never married by Betazoid custom.’

‘I know it’s more complicated than that.’

Rhade drew a sharp, raking breath. ‘We raced into getting married. That was clear, sir. After the Delta Quadrant, we made an impulsive decision. But before Rosara left, we talked matters through, openly and honestly at last. I care for her, deeply. I want her – the whole crew of Endeavour – to be well. But our relationship was something our families wanted – not us. At last, we’re making the right choice.’ He stood a little sharper than intended, and Rourke’s eyes flickered over him.

‘I don’t think anyone can blame you, Commander,’ Matt Rourke said, softer and more sympathetic, ‘for your judgement being compromised after the Delta Quadrant.’

The Delta Quadrant, where blood dilithium had driven him beyond the edge of sanity and led him to kill a man in cold blood. He’d been so lost in the aftermath, bewildered and unaware of who he was, what he was, that he hadn’t thought but to let slip his mistakes, his betrayal of Rosara with the traitor Dathan Tahla. At his lowest and most miserable, a traitor and cheat and murderer, he had been in no position to push against Thawn when she’d wanted to hide from her own mistakes by rushing into a marriage. They’d both tried to paper over the cracks in themselves with their duty and commitment to their people.

Rosara had broken free, running away with a man she truly cared about, recommitting to the life where he knew she shone. Rhade had thought he’d ripped the cracks open, too, realised he’d been wilfully naive in ignoring the warning signs, and was embracing honesty anew. But this night was suggesting there were more cracks in him than he’d truly known.

‘I can blame myself, sir,’ said Rhade at last, straightening. ‘But I thank you, as always, for taking a leap of faith and trusting me after that mission.’

‘It’s no leap of faith, Commander.’ Rourke turned to face him, and somehow he could look bold and reassuring even when bedraggled by sleep and swaddled in a comfy dressing gown. ‘You didn’t act of your own free will out there. I know who you are, and you’re an easy man to trust. Help Kowalski get to the bottom of this. He’ll need someone like you beside him.’

He doesn’t need a man who knows what it feels like to crush the life out of someone and enjoy it.

Rhade hid his expression by finishing the coffee and set it down a little too hard on the breakfast nook. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll go check our personnel roster now. See who we have who might advise on… chains and horns.’

‘Very good.’ Rourke scratched his beard, his eyes going to the steps to the upper floor. He had to be wondering, Rhade knew, what he’d tell his daughter. The truth would escape at some point. Did she get any of it now? Or did he lie and say nothing had happened until word of the street proved him wrong?

That was not a question Rhade envied having to answer. He had enough of his own struggles and was, at last, free of any commitment to any one person. He was, besides, an expert at lying to those close to him, however much he’d never meant to.

‘We’ll get answers, sir,’ Adamant Rhade assured the station commander. ‘And there’ll be justice.’

‘Justice for Romulan refugees,’ Matt Rourke mused, shaking his head, and suddenly looking very weary even for being woken up in the middle of the night. ‘That’ll be a novelty.’