‘I never got hiking,’ Kharth admitted around a mouthful of pastry. ‘You go walking a long distance in the middle of nowhere? On purpose? Anything I had to do on a training exercise isn’t fun.’

Logan shrugged and leaned back in his chair, one arm hooked over the back. ‘It’s a trail up beyond the cliffs. Takes you above the city, into the highlands. Mountains and forests. Some good climbs. Great views.’

‘I have a view right here,’ Kharth pointed out, sipping her coffee and nodding down the hill. Port Faran spilled out before them, the sloping city gently tumbling down to where the morning sun rippled across azure seas. Pale buildings climbed up the terraced hillside, rooftops gleaming, while between them wound narrow streets with flags and awnings fluttering in the breeze. It was barely past nine, but already the harbour bustled. Once, at the founding, there might have been fishing boats and local travel. Now it was all pleasure yachts mingling on the water.

Their cafe terrace was tucked just off a pedestrian avenue, shaded by canvas and the creeping vines entwining overhead. Most of the other customers lingered at scattered tables enjoying hot drinks and morning pastries were probably Starfleet officers, she reckoned, but nobody cared for decorum or status. It wasn’t like sitting in the Safe House lounge on Endeavour, where no matter how unwound you were, you were poised for whatever action – or at least duty shift – came next.

Logan’s expression shifted to something unreadable. Or, rather, by now she could half-read it – he had a thought, he didn’t know how to phrase it, and was summing up what to say. ‘Didn’t take you for a “lounge around doing nothing” sort of shore leave person.’

‘Not nothing. Just, you know. Bars and clubs. Parties and good times. Normally late nights, not morning croissants.’ She still shoved the rest of the croissant in her mouth like she was back in a refugee shelter where someone might fight her for a crumb in a moment. Not out of trauma. It just tasted good. ‘I thought you liked that.’

‘On Endeavour, sure. Maybe even on a starbase. But this…’

She finally put two and two together, and swallowed quickly. ‘Jack, this is a Starfleet resort.’ She gestured to the side of her face. ‘Nobody cares.’

He flinched. On her, she gestured to bare skin. If he’d done it, he’d have gestured to the ocular implant framing his left eye. ‘Reckon a lot of folks care, actually.’

‘Most of the tourists here aren’t just Starfleet, they’re from our squadron. All ten starships is, like, five thousand officers. And they all know who you are.’

‘Five thousand, eight hundred,’ Logan mused, though didn’t look much reassured by this. ‘And just ‘cos they know me, don’t mean they want to party with me. Thought you liked rock-climbing, anyway.’

‘I do, but – there’s also that boardwalk bike race, c’mon.’ She knew she was sounding wheedling, now, possibly even dismissive of his very real apprehensions of being an ex-Borg on vacation in a civilian town. ‘Don’t you want to make sure Endeavour wins the Idol?’

That made Logan pause, his brow furrowing into deep concentration at that. ‘Can’t compete out of Port Faran,’ he said ponderously.

Kharth didn’t know for sure who had made the Idol happen. Some said Swiftsure’s Ensign Carrick. Some said Mercury’s Commander Ó Taidhg. While she believed the object itself, an ugly statuette in bronze the size of a PADD, had come from one of the Sirius’s diplomatic missions, given to Commodore Rourke not as a gesture of respect but a party favour, she suspected the hand of Isa Cortez in what had come next. In a hollow inside the abstract statuette – or perhaps it wasn’t abstract art, perhaps it was some Federation member’s deity or mythical hero – a chip had been placed.

If the Idol was taken outside the limits of Port Faran, it would emit a loud wail and transmit its location to all Starfleet officers in the city. If the Idol was in one place for more than four hours, it would ping all participants with a rough location. Or so they’d been told in the anonymous message sent to all squadron officers on shore leave, with just one simple addition:

Whichever crew held the Idol in their possession at the official end of shore leave, won. What they won was less clear. The stakes of professional pride were not.

‘Valance isn’t going to take part in anything so frivolous,’ Kharth pointed out, leaning forward. She knew she had him. ‘As XO, I’ve got to, you know. Take part alongside the crew in important bonding activities. And uphold the honour of Endeavour. So we compromise: we get our hands on the Idol, and then we can go on as long and distant a camping trip as you want.’

Logan shifted. ‘We can’t take it with us,’ he pointed out.

‘We palm it off. Give it to Lindgren or something. Make it her problem. Point is, we win it, because I’ll be damned if Endeavour doesn’t get our hands on the Idol at least once. Then we can take off.’

‘You know who’ll be great spies an’ agents?’ he said, eyes beginning to light up. ‘Dhanesh’s kids.’

‘Definitely.’

‘Alright. You got yourself a deal. Any idea where it is now?’

‘I think the Swiftsure kids have got it.’ Kharth tapped the edge of her coffee cup thoughtfully. ‘They’re more excitable than they should be. They don’t have the discipline to keep cool when they’re onto something.’

‘Who’s got an in with them?’

She sighed. ‘I’d normally say Isa. But she’s either the orchestrator of this, or she’s on their team.’

‘Worth finding out if she is the game master?’

‘Mn. I should check in with her anyway.’ She looked down at her empty plate, their emptying coffee cups. A café breakfast had been his idea, and she had to begrudgingly accept it was a nicer way to start the day than something replicated in the hotel room without the curtains opened. Which was how her vacation mornings usually went on shore leave, after thumping late nights in clubs.

But with the Idol needing to be on the move, it would have to go wherever the young crew of the Swiftsure went.

‘I promised Raj I’d take the kites out on the clifftop with Dev.’ Dev was Counsellor Dhanesh’s eldest, and while he’d been described to Kharth as the most sensible, she thought all three were absolute tearaways. ‘Prep some agents, do some recon, meet up after lunch at the Seawall?’

‘I expect a full report.’ The sun was climbing as she stood, the shadows of the awning drawing back. Port Faran would hit its stride soon, late-risers rippling into the streets, stalls boasting mementos and food setting up, live music and walking tours beginning, but not yet. For the moment, the breeze off the air still had the morning chill, and the streets were only just awakening.

Logan necked the dregs of his coffee and peeled himself from his chair. Even in this heat, he still wore a long-sleeved shirt; pale khaki and breathable linen, but enough to hide the metal implants she knew shone at his upper arms, his chest. He didn’t make a fuss about covering up, just wore swimwear at the beach, she noted, but when he had options to hide, he took it.

‘Don’t get into a turf war with the Swiftsure kids before I get back.’

‘No promises.’

He grinned and kissed her cheek, then was gone a moment later, disappearing up the avenue towards the cliffs.

She headed the other way, letting the downhill streets guide her towards the beach. Narrow cobblestones warmed underfoot, but the main roads were getting busier. Shop fronts opened, cafés put out more tables, stalls set up, and she found herself cutting into a quieter lane to not have to keep physically dodging the gathering bustle.

It was down a narrower avenue, shaded and cool and with older but more permanent-looking stores – the kind that didn’t need to change with seasonal tourist needs – that she saw him. Dav Airex stepped out of a narrow, shadow-soaked bookshop, and it was so long since she’d seen him planetside and out of uniform that, for a moment, she didn’t recognise him.

Or, rather, she thought he was someone else. With a slim hard-copy book tucked under one arm, a satchel slung across his shoulder, he looked light. Casual. A white short-sleeved shirt, collar open; dark trousers rolled just enough at the ankle for the coastal heat, practical sandals. Rather than spot her, he paused in the street, pulled out his new acquisition to study it.

To not feel an intruder, she cleared her throat. ‘Dav.’

Normally, she over-thought how to address him. Not just because of the boundaries of rank, the boundaries of their relationship. Airex was who he was, who she expected him to be, the joined Trill of a half-dozen lifetimes. Dav was the man she’d known before that. The man she’d loved, and the man she’d lost, subsumed into all those centuries that had come before. Subsumed into what Airex had done. But for just one moment, light and casual, enthused at a new book, he looked so carefree that he was just as she remembered him.

Then his gaze rose, and when he saw her, the knot at his brow was pure Airex. With added self-consciousness at the familiarity. ‘I – good morning. I didn’t expect you to be around at this hour.’

How could he shut down so openly in front of her, and yet so casually demonstrate how well he knew her habits? She swallowed, padding over. ‘It wasn’t a late night. Just finished breakfast, now I’m down to the beach. You?’

‘The city museum,’ he said, straightening. ‘They have a new collection in. Outer Federation colonial settlements… it’s apparently very impressive.’

‘I forget Port Faran’s got more than clubs and cafés.’

‘It’s one of the oldest human settlements outside of Sol,’ he reminded her. ‘And hasn’t been built on top of over and over like Centauri City. Step away from the clubs, and you’ll find a culture… honestly, more unusual than you’d expect. Colonial without being fully Federation, in that way… well, you know how modern human settlements get. Homogenous.’

‘You’d tell me off if I said that.’

‘I can say it anthropologically.’ His lips curled. ‘Remember all that culture when you’re… what’s on the cards? Taking in the boardwalk bike-race with Shep?’

It was a guess, and yet it was uncomfortably close. ‘That’s tomorrow. This afternoon better have water-skiing. Unless I get a lead on where the Swiftsure kids have the Idol for now.’

‘Oh, that.’ He rolled his eyes, good-natured but clearly apart from it. ‘Put up a good fight, for the sake of the crew.’

‘You meeting up with Valance?’ The last time they’d been on shore leave, Valance and Cortez had tried spending the vacation together, only to go their separate ways for a few days, wanting different things. An omen of what had been to come, Kharth thought wryly.

‘Hm? Oh, no, not this morning. Maybe later.’ He nodded down the alley the way he was headed. ‘I won’t keep you.’

She let him go. Bright and more carefree he might have seemed, but still with the iron-strong shackles of control that had tightened the moment he’d seen her. And still, she thought with a twist in her gut she didn’t much want to interrogate as she walked the other way, down towards the light and beach and sun and crowds, alone.