Fotheran left the Ready Room with a lighter step and much-improved attitude. In the space of a few minutes and the first real heart to heart talk he’d had with Eve Mallory, a lot of things about his world had changed. First off, he was glad to see that his instincts were still cooking on all thrusters. He had suspected right off the bounce that there was something odd going on with this mission and quite obviously, Eve had her own suspicions about the same thing. Fotheran had to admit, he felt a hell of a lot better now that Eve had taken her into his confidence, although it was going to still take some time to get used to having a partner.

    Every pair of eyes on the bridge followed him as he strode to a turbolift and waited for it to arrive. He could feel every eye staring holes in his back and he didn’t give them the satisfaction of turning around. Whatever they’d heard, whatever they’d been told about him, they’d just have to live with it.

    The turbolift doors opened and Fotheran stepped inside, the doors closed and Fotheran said quietly, “Ops Officer’s quarters.”

    He leaned against the curving wall of the turbolift and closed his eyes. Here he was at last on The Grail. There had been many Federation starships with proud and noble names…names like Voyager, Defiant, Crazy Horse, and of course, Enterprise…but there was only one ship whose name was whispered and men refused to speak of. And he was on her at last confronting a mystery without any clues.

    The turbolift doors suddenly opened and Fotheran’s eyes opened wide as three pairs of hands reached inside and yanked him out bodily.

    “Hey! Wot’s th’ big idea?” Fotheran snapped in mock anger. Lockridge, Goodluck and Boutin let him go and he straightened his jacket with an indignant tug.

    “You should all be thankful that I’m in good mood, otherwise I’d have you on report for laying hands on a superior officer!” Fotheran snapped, flicking imaginary dust from his jacket sleeve while he fought to keep a grin off his face as his friends swapped amazed looks.

    “What have you gone and done now, Denys?” Felicia asked in horror.

    “He’s gone and killed Captain Mallory and he thinks he’s gonna take over the ship, I bet,” Lockridge said grimly. “I TOLD you guys it was a mistake to leave ‘em alone…okay, Ron, you grab his…”

    “Hold it, hold it!” Fotheran allowed the grin to break through at last. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Some friends you are. Do you always think the worst of me?”

    “But what happened?” Felicia demanded, punching Fotheran in the arm. “C’mon and tell us already!”

    “You’re looking at the Operations Officer of The Grail, my friends. I do believe that makes me…third in command of this stately vessel?”

    Lockridge was shaking his head. “I dunno how you do it, man…you must be part cat…no matter what, you always land on your feet.”

    “And in this case, you should be glad I’ve done so, old son. There’s some things doing on this ship that you should know about. C’mon, let’s go to Ten-Forward and have a drink while I tell you some things you’re not going to like…”

---

    Ten-Forward was humming with excitement. The Grail had been underway for around three hours and it was almost time for a shift change. Beta shift personnel had been coming in and out since they’d left Utopia Planitia and those that were still here were already leaving to get to their assignments on time.

    Cait and her staff were handling things just fine. Cait was well pleased with the way they were working; it would give her more time to deal with what was coming. Alpha shift personnel were just starting to come in and she wanted to be sure that when he came in, she’d have time to talk to him, to give him the message he absolutely had to hear. She glanced under the bar to make sure that all the things she needed were there. Butterflies danced in her stomach and she swallowed; she had what she wanted to say all planned out as well as how she would say it.

    For a long second, she found herself envying people like Guinan and The Q for the effortless way they managed to convey their point without actually making it. Then she squared her shoulders and held her head up, bringing up her confidence from where it had sunk somewhere under her stomach. Guinan and The Q had hundreds, thousands of years to practice and I’ve only had two days…I’ll be fine.

    The door slid open and another group came in. Three men and a woman, all talking excitedly. And he was right in the middle of the excitement. But of course he was. Caitlyn had never seen him before now, but she could have picked him out of a New Year’s Eve crowd in Rio de Janeiro.

    Cait moved to the empty stretch of counter and smiled at them. It didn’t take much to know what they wanted before they asked for it; it was practically at the forefront of their minds. She brought up a bottle of synthehol and three square chunky glasses up to the lighted surface of the bar with a flourish.

    “First drink is on the house,” she said with her best and brightest hostess smile as she deftly poured for Lockridge, Boutin and Felicia, sliding them to the edge of the bar as each glass was filled.

    She turned to Denys Fotheran, allowing her smile to widen, to take on a very flirtatious edge and colored her words with the same tone. “But special people get something special.”

    She lifted three bottles onto the counter and one glass. She picked up the first and poured a measured amount of the purple liquid into the glass. “Tsasa Juice,” she said. “Very rare.” She continued smiling. “Unpredictable. Sharp. Extremely exciting.”

    She picked up the second bottle, which contained a green liquid. “Orion synthehol,” she continued. “Staid. Ordinary. Predictable.” The glass was now filled with the two liquids, the synthehol sitting solidly on top of the Tsasa Juice. “If you tried it now, all you’d get is one and then the other. Nothing special at all. But…” she added a little from the third bottle, an ordinary bonder for drinks that didn’t ordinarily mix. “…add the right stimulus…” she inserted a glass stirrer in the drink and slowly moved the instrument in slow, small circles and the liquids mixed, merged, changed. The drink now had a bright golden hue. “…and the results are extraordinary….”

    She handed him the drink. Fotheran was watching her closely. At first with amusement, then with mystification and now with outright bafflement. His friends had moved away, looking for an empty table and Cait’s staff was taking care of other crewmembers. It was suddenly as if the two of them were in their own little bubble of existence separate from the rest of the room.

    Caitlyn’s hand moved, grasped Fotheran’s in a firm clasp. She looked deep into his startled and slightly angry eyes. Her voice was intense, serious, free of her former light, bantering tones and with the faintest hint of an echo. “There’s a storm coming, Denys and its going to take something extraordinary to survive it. Work with her, trust her. You’re already halfway there.”

    She let go as suddenly as she’d grabbed him, her smile returning as she did so. “Enjoy your drink.” Then she was at the far end of the bar, pouring more drinks, ignoring him.

    Fotheran looked down at the drink in his hand, then back at the bartender. He had no idea what had just passed between them, but he had no doubt she was referring to two things: Eve Mallory and the reason the two of them had been brought together on this ship. He took a step toward the end of the bar, intending to ask the girl some questions, but a touch on his elbow stopped him. Fotheran turned to face Ron Boutin, who was looking at him quizzically.

    “Denys, what’s wrong?”

    “The bartender. She said something really weird just now. I wanted to ask her some questions.”

    Boutin was yanking on his sleeve. “She’s not going anywhere and you said you’d tell us what you and Captain Mallory talked about. You can’t keep us hanging like this. Come on over and have your drink.”

    “But—” Fotheran threw Caitlyn a look, trying to catch her eye, but she was already in conversation with someone else and wasn’t even looking his way. He looked down at the drink in his hand and took a sip. It was one of the most delicious and refreshing concoctions he had ever tasted.

    “Denys?” Boutin said impatiently.

    “Yeah, I’m coming…I’m coming…”

---

    Austin sat on the Bridge of his ship, hands steepled together, waiting. Lore was working on the final adjustments to marry the device they'd stolen from the Research Station. They were also running out of time; the resupply transport would be here in 4 hours, and they had to make their deadline at the LaBrine Expanse in 24 hours.

    Through the front window, he saw the familiar figure of Mirka Zira approaching the ship, carrying what seemed to be a heavy bag. He turned the viewscreen on her and realised that the container's contents seemed to be moving slightly with every step.

    Reaching out with his mind, he made contact with the upper layers of her conciousness. Despite his own corruption, the gore splattered depths of her psyche were not somewhere he really wanted to spend much time visiting.

    What is that? He asked.

    He saw as well as felt the smirk. Doggy bag.

    Store it properly, He responded. I don't want it stinking up the ship.

    A mocking laugh. Spoilsport.

    He left her mind, returning to his body with ease. But as he did so, something else tickled his consciousness. Something familiar. He didn't move, except to shift forward slightly.

    "Show yourself," He said after a moment. "Father."

    The voice spoke from behind him. "I am not your father." No heat or even annoyance in the cool tones.

    Austin swiveled the chair around to face the other occupant of the bridge. "Your cells were fused with an egg and implanted in a female, who bore this body to term." A wicked grin. "What other defininition do you need?"

    The other ignored the statement. "You will not win."

    Austin smirked. "That has yet to be determined," He replied. "The pieces are in place, I have the advantage."

    "You will not win," The other repeated. "They will stop you."

    Austin frowned. "They?" He queried. "The child has not come into her power, she is no match for me, and Mallory..." He paused as realisation came to him. "So. The Robot has met her Rogue, has she?"

    No answer from the other.

    "It won't matter," He came to his feet, taking two steps forward, his control cracking slightly. "I WILL regain what is mine."

    The doors hissed open, and Lore stepped in. Austin whirled to face him. "What!?"

    Lore hesitated for a moment, lips curving a faint smile. "Modifications complete." He stated.

    Austin turned back, but the other was gone; he expected nothing less. "Start pre-launch checks," He ordered. "We can't be late for our appointment."

---

    Eve was in her Ready Room, staring out of the window at the starfield. The cadets were aboard, the ship was ready, all the preparations she’d made her finished and done. Now all she had to do was go out there, sit in the Captain’s Chair and give the orders.

    She’d sat in the Big Chair before, on the Crazy Horse and before that. Taken command of away teams and all manner of things. But this time was different. This time SHE was the Captain. And not just any ordinary ship. The Grail.

    Behind her the door beeped once. She ignored it. She wanted time, for what she wasn’t sure. Just to delay the moment.

    A second beep. She sighed. “It’s open.”

    Behind her the door slid open and closed. Eve didn’t turn from the window, but she saw JoAnne’s reflection in its surface. The councilor stepped forward and sat in the chair in front of her desk.

    “Everything’s ready,” Jo said finally. She could guess how hard this was for her friend and patient having debriefed her on the Grail’s return as well as acting as Eve’s therapist for many months, before handing the job over to someone else when she’d become friends with her.

    “Yeah.” No emotion in the word, no indication of how Eve felt.

    “Just waiting for the go order.” Jo continued.

    “Yeah.”

    “The comet enters the field in two days,” Jo reported. “If we leave in the next hour, we’ll get there in time. If not…” She trailed off.

    No answer from Eve this time. JoAnne was about to say something else, when Eve sighed and leaned forward, resting her forehead against the glass and resting her palms on the surface.

    “I can’t do this,” Eve’s voice was quiet.

    “Yes, you can,” Jo replied. “You’ve taken commands before, remember? This is no different.” That was lie of course. It WAS different and both women knew it.

    “This time it is,” Eve gave voice to it.

    “Yes,” Jo agreed. “It is.” She sat in the same relaxed posture, but in reality she was tense; this next wall was Eve’s to climb. All she could do was help.

    “So what do you want to do?” She asked. “Go back to Ireland? Give all the orders from this room? You can do whatever you want, Eve. You are the Captain after all.”

    “Go back to Ireland.” Eve said almost immediately. “That’s what I want to do.”

    “OK then,” Jo replied. “Go out there, give Olsen command, resign your commission and just take care of your garden. It’s easy enough.”

    Eve closed her eyes, imagining the green valley and her garden, with its various plants all coming into bloom. The smell of the soil as she turned it over to add something to the beds. The smell of rain in the air, and the faintest bleating of the sheep.

    For the longest moment, she wanted to just leave the place of her worse nightmares, and go back to the peace of it. Hide away from the world. It would be so easy to do.

    But she couldn’t. If she did that, she’d never leave. Never travel beyond Ireland’s borders, never be amongst the stars again. And despite her protestations and denials, the nightmares and the horrors, out amongst the stars was where she felt at home. The Grail hadn’t always been about horror and doom. Sometimes they’d made allies, seen sights that had taken her breath away, witnessed wonders that amazed and delighted.

    Eve stepped away from the window and turned. “Easy isn’t always the right option,” She said. “Let’s do this.” And she strode from the room.

    JoAnne grinned to herself and followed.

    Out on the Bridge, Eve made her way to the Captain’s Chair and paused fractionally. So much myth about being a captain, especially from her time. Kirk and his Enterprise, Sulu and the Excelsior, Kutuan and the Washington, Suvar and the T’Pau. La Forge and the Hera.

    Legends created by deeds, grit and blood. Heroes born in the fire of change and decisiveness.

    But to her there was a name missing from that list. Terrakian and the Grail. A ship sent out on a mission that no one expected it to return from, that Starfleet hoped would never come back. That he’d achieved so much, had kept most of the crew alive or unassimilated was an achievement and a legend in itself.

    All she could do was hope she lived up to that legacy.

    She turned, sat down in the chair. She almost expected some miraculous insight to be given to her, for there to be some kind of fanfare. But this was just a chair, the authority didn’t come from it. It came from her.

    She glanced at Olsen, sitting beside her. “All stations ready?”

    He nodded. “Ready and waiting, Captain.”

    Eve faced forward. “Helm, take us out of spacedock and then on an intercept course for the comet. Warp Four.”

    “Aye Captain.” The Helmsman’s fingers moved over the controls.

    Slowly, The Grail slid out from the confines of her docking spars, moving clear and speeding up to impulse. Once it was far enough away, it seemed to blur, shift and elongate into the warp corridor.

    “Course set. Warp Four.” Helm reported.

    Eve leaned back into the chair and smiled very slightly. Let the Games begin…

TO BE CONTINUED