The beach was a riot of light and sound. Fat rays of the golden afternoon sun skipped across rolling waves and onto the vast expanse of white sand, where laughter and conversation hummed to and beyond the water’s edge. Parasols dotted the beach and promenade like bright, haphazardly planted flowers, casting shade over towels, loungers, and the occasional dozing officer. Out on the water, swimmers splashed and floated. Further down the beach, a volleyball game between officers from Redemption and Tempest had drawn a small, cheering crowd. Near the promenade, a sound system had been propped up to play music with a thudding drumbeat.

Kharth finished running her towel through sea-soaked hair and flopped onto the lounger with a contented sigh. The bottle of something vaguely citrus and local tucked in the shade underneath was still cool, and she took a long, satisfied drag.

Logan was already sprawled out on the lounger beside hers, arm behind his head, still in a light t-shirt and board shorts. She looked him up and down.

‘The water’s great, you know,’ she said. ‘If you’re done recovering.’

With his sunglasses on, she couldn’t see his eyes. ‘I wasn’t out that late last night.’

‘Late enough that I don’t see a sign of Dhanesh.’

‘I can’t get hungover. Can barely get drunk.’

‘Then, what, you’re dreaming of the mountains? Something’s up.’ She twisted on her lounger to look at him, and reached out for her fingertips to trace across the sleeve of his t-shirt. ‘You didn’t wear this to the beach yesterday.’

He didn’t turn his head, but the ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. ‘Tryin’ to get my clothes off even at this time of day.’

She knew it was an evasion. She just didn’t know what to do about it, and not if the root was Logan regretting their pact to stay in Port Faran for a little longer. So she gave a good-natured groan and flopped onto her back, picking up her PADD and the latest magazine issue she’d picked up. If he had a problem, he could use his words. In the meantime, they could stretch out on the beach a little longer.

‘Commander!’

It was some time later before the distant call broke her attention, and Kharth looked up to the promenade. Lindgren, Kally, and Ensign Hargreaves were power-walking towards them, sun-hats askew, sandals kicking up clouds of sand. This could only be one thing.

‘Sit!’ Kharth instructed as they bundled breathlessly up, pointing at the sand. ‘Catch your breath. Drink. Report.’

Kally looked like their forced march had taken a serious toll on her much shorter legs, and Hargreaves was on the edge of babbling, so it was little surprise the explanation fell to cool, collected Lindgren.

‘We’ve finally isolated the Idol’s locational ping,’ she reported, tugging off her hat. ‘It only transmits intermittently, and it’s buried under interference. But we’ve – Kally’s – figured out a scan matrix that filters out the background noise.’

‘The catch is, it takes hours to resolve a clean signal,’ Kally burst in, breathless. ‘So we’re always running behind. But! We’ve mapped its location over the last two days with decent accuracy.’

Kharth frowned, sat up now. ‘How does this help us?’

‘Because we can compare it to people’s movements,’ Lindgren said with a smirk. ‘Enter Hargreaves.’

‘Everyone’s posting pictures or updates about where they are.’ The young yeoman’s eyes were bright as she explained. ‘So I’ve been mapping their movements, keeping a record of where everyone we even vaguely figure to be a contender in the contest has been. In this case, the Swiftsure officers. There’s one cluster that overlaps with all our Idol locations. We think it’s someone in their bridge crew.’

‘It’s that pack of bright young things,’ said Kharth, eyes narrowed. ‘The ensigns. Isn’t it?’

‘They split up. They come back together. The overlap isn’t perfect,’ said Lindgren, ‘but I think they’re passing it between themselves.’

‘I saw Sovak out in the water,’ Kharth mused. ‘Doing lengths out past the buoys. Of course. Do we know where the others are?’

Hargreaves winced. ‘Not entirely sure. Not together, though. I have fixes on where Jeream and Vhalis are, they’re at a bar down the promenade, at least.’

Kharth leaned forward, setting her bottle aside. ‘We need to find the others, then shadow them all. See who peels off, who they hand something off to, who might be guarding something. Smart and subtle; this is a beach party, not a covert op.’

Logan hadn’t moved yet, and grunted. ‘Sounds like a covert op to me.’

Hargreaves was consulting her PADD. ‘I think Drix is heading to the volleyball tournament.’

‘That leaves Carrick unaccounted for.’ Kharth scratched her chin. ‘And Sovak can’t have it with him, but he might have stashed it someplace secure nearby.’

‘Commander Octavian’s around here someplace, too,’ called Logan, not sitting up, gaze obfuscated by the sunglasses. ‘She could be in on it.’

Kharth nodded. ‘The two of us will stay here. Monitor Sovak and Octavian. Follow them if they leave. Hargreaves, you need to locate Carrick, then get on her.’

‘I’ll find her.’

‘We passed the volleyball tournament on our way past,’ mused Kally. ‘Ed was there and some others. I can go join them, keep an eye on Drix.’

Lindgren shrugged. ‘That puts me on Vhalis and Jeream.’

‘You can’t go alone,’ said Kharth flatly.

‘It’s not dangerous –’

‘What if they split up?’ She sat up and looked around, and luck struck – for someone, at least. ‘Caede!’

The Romulan exchange officer was walking the promenade. She knew he heard her, though for a moment she thought he might feign ignorance and keep walking. Then his shoulders slumped, and he hopped the rail to pad down the sand towards them.

‘What possible vacation emergency needs a meeting like this?’ he growled.

‘The kind where you’re on a surveillance op with Lindgren,’ Kharth said, jabbing notes into her PADD, no longer looking at him. ‘She’s got to monitor two targets who might pass an object off at any time.’

‘Oh. This stupid Idol.’

‘Hey!’ squeaked Kally. ‘This is important Starfleet business and you – you’re on an exchange mission!’

‘Yeah!’ said Hargreaves. ‘This is culture.’

He turned back to Kharth, gaze flat. ‘You can’t order me to do this.’

Lindgren, sat cross-legged, rose to her feet in one smooth motion and slid up next to him to take his arm. ‘What if I ask nicely?’ she said with a too-sweet smile.

Caede rolled his eyes. ‘Going along with this – stalking people for hours in the streets of Port Faran – will still be quicker than fighting you, won’t it.’

‘Absolutely. You can even pretend to be having fun.’

Kharth turned to the others. ‘Same rules as always. Play it low and slow. We’re looking for a handoff, a pickup, someone covering their tracks. They don’t know we’re on to them, so don’t show your hand until we know we can get it. Let’s track this thing down and prove we’re better than the Swiftsure.’

‘Come on,’ drawled Logan, still not sitting up. ‘They’re literally twelve. I think we got them beat.’

‘But not at this!’ declared Kally, and stuck her hand out, palm down. Everyone stared at her for a beat. ‘Oh, come on. Three-two-one team?’

‘I’m not doing that,’ Caede said at once.

‘That’s not very subtle of us,’ Kharth agreed, and smothered a smirk as Kally and Hargreaves quickly and quietly put their hands together and muttered, three-two-one-Endeavour to themselves.

Lindgren kept a grip on Caede’s arm as she stepped back and tipped her sunglasses back over her eyes. ‘See you all on the other side.’

They fanned out across the beach, and Kharth settled down to look to the waves, seeing if she could still make out the speck that was her quarry, Lieutenant Sovak.

The hunt was on.