They waited patiently for Grey to return to the bridge and he was not happy when he did. His face was neutral but those who knew him could see the way his jaw was clenched. He strode to his chair with a singular focus rather than casting his eye over his crew. Ali and Frost shared a look as everyone waited in concerned silence for him to speak. "Frost, set coordinates back to Ulth."

Frost didn't argue and so adjusted their course. "Sir?" Wood asked.

"We're to resume our previous mission," Grey explained, "after disobeying a direct order and getting involved in armed conflict, command have told me - in no uncertain terms - we better obey."

"They're just going to ignore the taurran military presence at Kentar?" Lartyne asked, not the only one stunned by the idea. It wasn't the threat they'd come to deal with, but it was the one they had hard evidence of for USEP and Security Core to deal with.

"They have made it clear that it is not our concern," Grey said, "we have diplomats and Security Core for conflicts."

Ali openly scoffed at that. The Security Core was the reason that they'd had to go after Bert Barker the last time - and she wasn't yet convinced there wasn't going to be a repeat. To avoid admitting that Security Core had screwed up, the Endeavour crew had received only minimal recognition for their effort. She caught Frost's eye and found the same skepticism there.

As Grey's eyes flitted around his crew he noted the varying degrees of approval of the orders. Most appeared to consider it an acceptable solution, if slightly unorthodox to completely cut them out of the loop when they'd been directly involved. "Where's Marsh?" He asked realising his science officer wasn't supervising the repairs to the consoles.

"He was injured in the blast, he's in the med bay," Ali explained.

Only years of experience having to keep face in front of his crew prevented Grey's weary irritation at their situation showing. "I'm going to get a damage report from engineering and a sit rep from medical," he explained curtly as he stood up. "Ali, stay put and don't touch anything."

Ali raised her hands in mock surrender. "Do you want me to arrest her, sir?" Wood asked and Ali turned a glare on him.

"All of you behave, I want my bridge fixed by the time I get back," Grey warned as the elevator door slid shut.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Lartyne asked quietly.

The look Frost and Ali shared suggested it was, but neither said it out loud. "He's right, we need to get this mess cleaned up," Frost said instead.

By the time Grey arrived in the medical bay he was beyond frustrated at the situation. Spud had given him the quickest report she could so that she could scramble back to work, promising him a comprehensive report by the end of the day. Engineering had been a loud, hectic hub of activity as the crew prioritised their repairs and ran from sparking manifold to beeping manifold to fix things before they exploded into serious issues - some of them literally.

By comparison the medical bay was downright peaceful. Though Narla's staff were still hurrying between patients, they weren't shouting warnings and data at each other. Instead they were calmly dealing with their patients, the few that required more serious treatment were already in surgery and the doctors were giving the impression of everything being under control. Narla herself was just wrapping up the surgery she had been supervising when he arrived in her office - it had a large glass window that allowed her visual access to the two operating rooms - so he took a seat and waited patiently for her to finish.

Narla had given no indication that she was aware he was in her office as she finished with her patient. Yet she showed no surprise when she arrived to find him waiting there. "No fatalities so far," she reported, "for the most part the injuries are minor; burns, broken bones, concussion, a dislocated shoulder."

"So far?" Grey queried.

Narla motioned to the operating theatre she'd not been in. "Brian," she explained, "external and internal bleeding along with brain swelling. We're doing all we can, but only time will tell."

Grey pinched the bridge of his nose as the toll of the day started to manifest itself into a headache. That time he did sigh. "We're not a warship," he muttered. Narla said nothing but continued to observe him in silence as he sat there, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of her. "I shouldn't have disobeyed command." Still Narla waited patiently. "Are you going to say something?"

"I already gave you my advice," Narla reminded him. "My opinion has not changed because of this. We were attacked, perhaps we should have left the system sooner to avoid it, but the aggression of others is not our fault."

"I wish I could be so sure we were doing the right thing," Grey admitted with a wry half smile as he looked up at her.

For a long moment it looked as if Narla was simply watching her captain. In reality she was letting the conflicting emotions she could sense from him wash over her to get a clearer picture of his current condition. She would never invade someone's mind without their permission, however, feelings were a different matter. In her culture you absorbed the feelings of those around you to understand them, it as much a part of communication as their words and actions. They had known each other long enough to be well versed in what they perceived as the other's cultural idiosyncracies. "After what it took to bring him in the first time, we knew the risks better than anyone."

"It always comes down to acceptable risk," Grey muttered.

"And what is the acceptable risk?" Narla challenged, causing Grey to look up at her. Both of their stares were steady as her question sank in until, finally, Grey nodded, reassured. The only acceptable solution was for Bert Barker to remain in prison, and they had to take risks to ensure he stayed put if there was even a possibility that it might change.

~-x-~

Kentar was an arid, harsh and hot planet, and both flora and fauna had adapted to suit the environment. Much of the inhabited landscapes were covered in sand or dry soil that flourished with cactus-like plants; bulging, natural water stores. The fauna in those areas had developed tough claws or the strength to crack open even the toughest shell to have access to water. Otherwise they had evolved with their own internal water storage allowing them to survive in the bleaker wilderness between.

The kentarians lived amongst the plants, cultivating them into farms and weaving them into their settlements. Their evolution had given them both tough claws and pointed teeth to retrieve the water from the fruit and body of the plants. They were longer limbed than humans, comparable to humans having evolved from sloths rather than monkeys. To keep the heat at bay they had built with thick stone and the strategic placement of windows to maximise the cooling effect of ventilation. As their technology had progressed they gained the ability to properly temperature control their buildings, but their style remained the same because their planet had taught them to be practical and they didn't trust the technology not to fail.

it was unthinkable to go outside without being fully covered to prevent heatstroke or sunburn, covered in loose robes and scarves or cowels, and that had led to the origin myth of their telepathic abilities. Spending so much time covered up had led them to communicate through other methods, at first through sign languages and before eventually evolving to effortlessly communicate by mind alone. As science moved on it was debunked, but it still made a nice story.

Over the last three years this was the place that Bert Barker had called home; a well sealed prison cell housed within a high security complex. His only entertainment were the paper documents his guards approved for him to read. Some were fiction, some were news, and some were historical accounts. Always few enough pages to count, but enough that he could read in a day. They were taking no chances on him improvising some way of escaping. Even the simple bathroom facilities were only hidden from view of the guards by a piezo-activated material that turned opaque if he hit it, and only lasted minutes at a time.

He didn't want to know what tests they put his food through, though he was kept relatively well fed for a criminal. His six foot tall frame was skinnier than it had been before his incarceration, and his light brown hair was dulled, unkempt and longer - though they did allow him to groom periodically, under heavy supervision. His brown eyes were still sharp though. He hadn't realised he could be much paler, but after years without sunlight he had been proven wrong.

He had no way of communicating with the outside world - that was why he was imprisoned on Kentar - and he knew it. They had even fitted him with a neural suppression collar that they could activate if he needed to leave his cell. He was patient, though, and he knew that he had associates - an insurance policy - that would break him out in time. Therefore, he was always thinking, calculating so that he could make the most of it when that time came. The lesson that knowledge was power and that power was security would always be fresh in his mind, no matter how long ago he'd learnt it, no matter how much his life changed. That one thing would always ring true. It also helped to alleviate his boredom.

He wasn't surprised when the door to his cell opened, he had no way of knowing what time it was beyond his own guesses at how much time had passed between meals. He was surprised, however, that it wasn't one of his kentarian guards, but a taurran woman brandishing a rifle. She wore bands of bright orange fabric wound and tied around her body denoting her status and a couple of pieces of armour over her vital organs and a vambrace that was mainly used to hit opponents with.

Taurrans had naturally tough skin, and a hell of a constitution, allowing them to absorb a lot of damage without ill effect, and because their bodies were relatively androgynous they had never developed the same attitudes to clothing as humans. As a female the bone structure of her head was more prominent, with additional ridges and valleys along the top of her head that were lined with a series of both short and longer horns, many of which had reddish paint applied to them to further distinguish them from the pale grey scales.

Bert slowly sat upright as she entered the room as they scrutinised each other at opposite ends of a rifle. Her eyes were wary whilst he returned the stare with a questioning look. "Bert Barker?" She asked and he nodded, finally she shouldered her rifle. "Princess Klandra," she introduced herself as she put something down on the nearby surface, then she set to work on the manacles around his wrists and ankles. "My father honours his debts."

"I'm glad," Bert agreed as he rubbed at his now free wrists, then picked up the small electronic key Klandra had left to release his collar. Years of careful observation of the guards dealing with other inmates finally paid off as he opened it easily.

"He said that you talked of a plan, one that he would be interested in," she prompted once the collar lay at their feet.

"Yes," he agreed. "First, I never want to look at this god forsaken room ever again," he said, "then, we will need to get excavating." Klandra tilted her head in curiosity but said nothing further as she followed him from the cell to where her soldiers were waiting.

~-x-~

"Come in," Grey instructed as the chime to his ready room door went off and he put down the tablet he'd been reading from.

Crewman Mishri Chopade stepped over the threshold. "You wanted to see me, sir?" He asked.

Grey hesitated as Chopade's youth was apparent on his features, his hazel eyes showed such innocence on his tawny face, framed with near black hair. For a moment the concerns he'd discussed with Narla hit him again. His decisions didn't just affect him but his whole crew. He knew every crew member under his command, but sometimes he forgot just how much life some of them had yet to live. "For exemplary service over the last year and how you handled our recent skirmish, Mishri, I'm promoting you to ensign." Grey almost chuckled at the surprised look on Chopade's face at the revelation. He could now also tell Spud so she could organise an appropriate celebration. If anything Spud did could be considered appropriate.

"Thank you, sir," Chopade managed to stammer.

"I'm also asking you to become acting senior science officer whilst Lieutenant Marsh is on medical leave." He had made the latter decision based on who knew the crew best and who had the most promising and experienced record. Chopade hadn't even hesitated in his duty during the battle, he had acted the way he would expect any senior science officer to act. It was the right decision, despite the young man's relative inexperience.

A flicker of a confused frown passed over Chopade's face. "You aren't going to ask Turner to step in?"

Grey had to admit he had considered it, but not only would Ali have had none of it, it wasn't her station to have. "She's no longer USEP nor a member of this crew," he explained, "though, I would not fault you for using her knowledge or experience as a resource." Chopade nodded nervously. "Relax, ensign, I know this is a big leap," Grey assured the young man.

"Yes, sir," Chopade agreed automatically and then held out a tablet as if he'd only just remembered he had hold of it. "Situation report, we've repaired most of the systems, and Commander Bohr says that because the rest are no longer a priority she'll get her team on them within the next couple of days," he reported as Grey skimmed over the tablet.

"Good, keep me updated," Grey decided. "Is there anything else you want to ask me about your new duties?"

"No, sir."

"Carry on then."

Chopade nodded and left the ready room with Grey not far behind him. Considering the damage they'd taken the bridge wasn't in too bad of a shape. Some of the debris still had to be fully cleaned away, but for the most part all the consoles were back in one piece and in working order. A couple of the science station bank screens remained dark but that appeared to be the worst of it. Grey took his seat to bring up the rest of the reports that would have come in, allowing the murmur of conversations around him to give him an indication of how well his crew were coping.

His attention was quickly diverted. "Ali?" Frost gasped as Ali almost slipped from where she'd been leaning against the helm station as she gripped her head. Frost jumped up to steady her as Ali winced and flinched as if she was fighting something that wasn't there.

Grey was just about to call for Narla when Ali's hands dropped back to the helm station to steady herself as she whispered "Bert" whilst trying to catch her breath.

"What?" Frost asked, and her expression must have mirrored her concerned and slightly fearful tone because Grey saw Ali's face fall for a moment, before squeezing Frost's hand.

Ali turned to Grey as she stood up straight, and he could detect the effort she required to keep her voice and gaze level as she said, "he's free."

"How..?" Frost trailed off weakly.

"How can you possibly know that?" Wood demanded as he shared a confused look with Lartyne.

Grey held Ali's gaze as he considered what she was telling him. They had all known this was a possibility, after all, this is what they had gone to Kentar to stop. They had hoped to give the kentarians a warning to prevent it, or to help them if they required. Even knowing the taurrans had already got to Kentar, they had hoped that the kentarians would be able to resist long enough to give them time to form a new plan.

There was no question of duplicity, he knew how she'd know. He also knew that she wouldn't risk revealing that if she didn't have to.

"This complicates matters," Grey eventually stated as he rubbed at his temples.