The door opened to Captain Corlett's ready room, and Tw'eak stepped through. He was seated at his desk, a padd and a few other tools spread out before him.

"Sit down," Corlett said, his voice not betraying a hint of emotion.

Tw'eak did as she was told, careful to present herself as patient, polite, even cordial. Corlett sat silently for a moment, his eyes fixated upon the nearest bulkhead, and the sense of being under threat of disciplinary action passed through her mind. That certainly was the impression he was giving - distaste, as though what he was about to say was going to hurt, or rather, that he sincerely hoped it would.

"Do you have a family, Commander?" he asked.

Tw'eak wondered for a moment if he had sensed her vulnerability on this subject, or if it was coincidence. "Not of my own, no."

"Really. I find it one of life's many great joys, to know that I have a place to come home to, after all this is done. My oldest is eight this year. He's doing quite well in school, looking forward to one day joining up and serving in Starfleet. The adventures he thinks we have out here... I don't know where he gets his ideas."

Tw'eak nodded. "How many siblings does he have?"

"Just one. A younger sister, she's going to be three. It's a bit of a gap, but that's the life of a Starfleet captain - duty first, home life whenever you can get there."

For a moment, Tw'eak didn't know what to say. "My shreya used to say something similar," she offered.

"That's... one of your fathers, in Andorian custom, right?"

"My mothers, actually. Thavan and charan, shreya and zhavey."

"Four parents. Big family?"

Tw'eak smiled. "Not by Andorian standards. Only eleven of us."

"Eleven - so, seven kids. My word." Corlett shook his head. "And they've all, no doubt, gone on to greater things."

"Not really. One sister and all four of my brothers have all died in Starfleet service. My youngest sister just finished at the Academy last year."

Tw'eak's intention to talk further about her sister's posting was curtailed by Corlett. "You mean they're all dead?" he stammered.

"Along with my thavan and zhavey, yes." She shrugged. "I don't want to sound matter-of-fact, like it doesn't matter. They meant a great deal to me, each of them."

Corlett's face soured. "You see, where I get a little doubt creep into my mind, on that point, is in how frequently you seem to be devoting your efforts to joining their number. I presume Andorians believe in some form of afterlife, no?"

Tw'eak furrowed her brow. Clearly the cordial time was over. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You see, you've been aboard my ship, what, two months now?"

"Sixty-seven days," Tw'eak corrected, before sharply adding, "sir."

"So a little over that. Doesn't matter. Before you came aboard, we were rousting out birds-of-prey, Orion corvettes... worst day we'd have would be a Gorn cruiser or a Klingon warship show up. And then, my previous XO would engage, but conservatively, with the intention of being able to withdraw - always having a route of escape in mind. We'd call for reinforcements before we went to red alert, if we needed them, sensibly. No sense in going alone and getting killed."

"If you're seeking to offer a critique of my performance today, then please do."

"You're reckless, Commander. You're putting yourself, and my ship, in harm's way once too often."

"Respectfully, sir, I didn't conjure the Tal Shiar - on either occasion we've encountered them."

"No, but you also didn't hesitate to engage them, either."

"It's a key tenet of Romulan tactical doctrine, as well as in their philosophy - they respect bold actions. They don't react well to when their plans are thwarted by such actions. In both cases, I believe decisive, immediate action was called for - decisive action which I took because, frankly, you didn't."

Corlett's eyes widened, astonished. "I beg your pardon."

"With all due respect, Captain, your hesitation on the bridge today was unacceptable. We had a clear shot on the Arreinye. We should've taken it - before they had their shields up."

"They were hailing us!"

"Not at that point, they weren't." Tw'eak had a working memory of the chronometer at that moment. "They didn't hail us until fourteen twenty-three. We had them at a total disadvantage from fourteen twenty-one until then."

Corlett chuckled dismissively. "You have a perfect working of the time in those exact moments, all of a sudden."

"I do, in fact. Because that was the decisive moment. One we let slip."

"Do you not understand?" Corlett sprang up and walked over to the window, the bright flashing colours of the jukebox in the corner dancing across his uniform's black fabric. "I have an obligation to these people under my command. To put them to the sword in the name of some avoidable risk... it's unacceptable."

"Neither of the risks we encountered, in either of our engagements with the Tal Shiar, were avoidable - or obvious in advance." Tw'eak crossed her legs, her tone of voice unperturbed. "In fact, we were put to that risk in the name of our duty - first during routine patrol, and then today in response to a distress signal."

Corlett turned and stared at her for a moment - another in the conversation's many long intervals. "And it's as simple as that for you, is it. Duty and routine."

"If needs must, then yes."

"There are ninety-three souls aboard this vessel, Commander - yours and mine included. We have a responsibility to their well-being, and their continued service, not to take unsanctioned risks in pursuit of some damned fool ideas of heroism and sacrifice."

Tw'eak jumped on the opportunity. "Am I to infer from this that you will indicate to me which risks are sanctioned in future?"

Corlett took another moment, staring, his jaw grinding, his hands behind his back. "No," he finally said, "that won't be necessary."

"Very well. May I remind the captain that, under regulations, if he should find my overall level of performance to be less than expected, he can request another first officer at any time?"

"You've really got some nerve, reminding me of that."

Tw'eak fought to keep the edge out of her voice. "There are also additional provisions in exceptional circumstances... in the event our relationship becomes irreconcilable."

"I'll keep that in mind, Commander." Corlett turned back to the window. "In the meantime, I'd like you to bear in mind that I have a family out there who I haven't seen in three and a half years, except by subspace. And I'm not the only one who's been out here for years, either."

"In that case, may I suggest that the captain consider taking shore leave?"

"Shore leave? We just got tangled up in this Borg business and you expect me to walk away now?"

Tw'eak tilted her head. "Did you not just say you haven't been home in two and a half years? That's far too lengthy a period of time - according to regulations, that is."

"Regulations. Always with the regulations. You're as bad as a Vulcan."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She leaned forward. "But I'd still like to know why."

Corlett paused again, then looked over, confused. "Why what?"

"Why haven't you taken leave in all that time. That level of extended time aboard ship is also against regulations."

"I can't trust that this ship will continue to run without me."

Tw'eak fought the urge to remind Corlett just how badly run this ship had become with him aboard - crew morale desperately poor, all manner of inefficiencies and maintenance headaches to resolve, all seemingly caused by an absentee captain who couldn't stand being responsible for all of it. Suddenly, it all made sense. Corlett was overwhelmed, unresponsive not by choice but as a defensive measure, to save himself further burden of stress. His concerns weren't about her conduct, but his insecurities. "I would like the chance for us to prove otherwise," she finally replied.

"Of course you would," Corlett snarled. "Get me out of the way and you get the big chair all to yourself. Clearly nothing would suit you better. I know your type - I've served with plenty like you who wanted nothing more than a starship of their own. Headstrong, impetuous, no interest in anything but their own narrow ambitions."

Tw'eak raised an eyebrow. She recognized desperation when she saw it - or in this case, heard it. Corlett's gambit - speaking harshly to Tw'eak - was clearly intended as a provocation. It was bait - ample bait, at that. She refused to take it. "With respect, Captain..." she started, getting her rising emotions back in order, "nothing would suit you better than showing confidence in your crew by taking the leave you deserve."

"I don't follow."

"Your... persistence in being here is giving them a sense that they're doing something wrong."

"Well, they are." Corlett waved a hand at his desk. "Look at these numbers."

"Exactly. You're unhappy with them, they can sense it. Trust them to improve in your absence, and they just might."

"They just might not, too," Corlett replied, obstinate.

"I can't deny that." She stood. "Look. Take the leave - take as long as you want. If you don't return to a ship that is a satisfactory improvement over the state it's in now, then I will accept total responsibility and request a transfer."

"I can barely trust you to bring me back a ship in one piece!"

Tw'eak suppressed a cringe and persevered. "I'm not finished."

Corlett raised both eyebrows, and again, silence for a moment. "Go on."

"When you do return, however, and find the ship to be not just in one piece, but working better than ever... I'll expect you to bring with you two cases of Andorian ale."

"Two cases - what the devil for?"

"Well, I'll need something to motivate them with in your absence, won't I?" Tw'eak smiled. "This way they'll be sure to be overjoyed at your return, as well. But please, only authentic Andorian ale, too, please - no synthehol. It ruins the... what do you call it, the floral arrangement...?"

"The bouquet," Corlett snarled. Another lapse in comment followed, but Tw'eak could see Corlett's eyes boring into hers, intent on finding some way to throw her plan into chaos. "Two cases," he said finally. "You're on."

Tw'eak nodded gratefully. "Alright."

"We'll be near enough to Starbase 82 in a couple of hours, I'll make my way from there. That'll be all."

Yet Tw'eak didn't move.

"Something else on your mind, Commander? I'd think you'd have said enough already."

Tw'eak looked towards Corlett's desk. "Shouldn't you call them, sir?"

"Call them?"

"To tell them that you're coming."

"Ah. Oh, yes. I suppose I should." Corlett frowned. "Just have to look up the time of day in Minneapolis. I don't want to wake them."

"I don't think they'll mind," Tw'eak replied. Before she turned to leave, she thought of something. "One last question, sir?"

"What now? I can't contact anyone privately if you keep asking questions."

"It's about the Borg, actually. In both encounters you seemed ...particularly interested in their technology. I was curious as to why."

Corlett bristled, hinting to Tw'eak that she was onto something. "It represents something we're not capable of. I was a chief engineer for thirteen years, I have a somewhat obsessive interest in what makes them tick."

"That's it. Not for any personal reasons?"

Once again, Corlett ground his teeth. "No, I don't suppose you'd be content with that, would you." He narrowed his eyes at Tw'eak. "All those people you lost... all your mothers and brothers... were any of them ever taken, by the Borg?"

"No, sir. None of them ever faced the Borg, as far as I know."

"You're lucky." Corlett's eyes turned to the stars again. "My... current family... is with another woman, not my wife. About fifteen years ago, Clara was ...I can't even say it. And I struggled with it for years - are we not still married, even though she's - ?" Corlett's expression became grief-stricken. "It took me the better part of a decade to accept that Clara wouldn't be coming back. She may have died on that cube we destroyed today, I don't know where she is. I don't know what's happened to her since then. She's... a Borg, now. But Starfleet's official policy is that the assimilated are killed in action. Not the first time a Starfleet policy and I have disagreed."

"I'm sorry," Tw'eak said.

"You're sorry." Corlett harrumphed. "You don't know what it's like - the sheer hell of it, to know that the one you loved, all your experiences with her, all her memories of you... that they reside within a collective hive-mind now, if they even continue to be part of her at all. Yet to accept that she's dead... means accepting that part of me died with her. I resent that I can't go to her, that I can't bring her back. That's... not my responsibility any longer. I wanted to go over there, you know. I wanted to lead the team myself - I knew you wouldn't just let me, but I also knew she wouldn't be there. Even then, I wouldn't know how to explain to her, about Trisha."

"Is that the name of your current ...partner?"

"Yes. We met through a survivors' group, for people who lost loved ones ...that way." Corlett's face tightened. "It's ridiculous that this still hurts so much to talk about. Trisha understands. She lost a husband of her own before she accepted me. It was difficult, but we reached something like your Andorian custom - a four-person arrangement, of sorts. She understands me, better than anyone. She's an incredible woman in her own right. But - she's not Clara."

Something occurred to Tw'eak. "That daughter you mentioned... the one who's almost three..." She caught sight of Corlett nodding before she said it. "You've never met her, have you?"

"Not officially, no. In fact, she's... part of the reason I haven't been home. You see, Trisha thought it would be fitting to name her Claire, a tribute to Clara." He shook his head. "I didn't mind so much when she named our son Pierce, after her lost husband, but the second time... She was so certain I'd be thrilled. I... can't say I was."

"No? For my people, to give the same name to a newborn child as a living relative is a very high honour."

Corlett caught her meaning - a living relative, neither assimilated nor dead - and gave a silent nod. "Anyway, the children keep Trisha busy enough, without me adding to it, so I haven't been back. But... I suppose there's no reason to carry that on any longer." He cleared his throat. "These things are difficult to speak of, Commander, especially... for a stubborn old bastard like me. I hope I can trust you'll keep this to yourself."

"That's what first officers are for," she replied, and stood to leave. "I hope you enjoy every moment at home with all of them." She gave a nod. "I'll handle things here until you return. Don't forget to call them, sir. I'm sure they'll be glad to hear from you."

Corlett just hovered and watched Tw'eak leave.