“What do you mean you’ve been reassigned?” Forrester demanded.

Kailir moved around the room, grabbing a PADD or a piece of clothing before stuffing them into a duffle bag. “Temporarily reassigned,” she corrected him, “and I know as much as you do. Apparently, my skills and experience are needed elsewhere.” She grabbed another PADD and pushed it into the side of the bag. “I’m to report to Captain Stafford on Starbase Bravo for new orders.”

“For how long?” Forrester already knew the answer she was going to give but asked it anyway, on the off chance he would be pleasantly surprised.

The Bajoran commander shrugged. “I have no idea.” Her eyes lit up as something came to her. “Oh, the new CDO is arriving today. In fact, they’re probably on board already.”

“What new CDO?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

Kailir continued her packing. “The new CDO I told you about.”

“You didn’t tell me about a new CDO.” Forrester searched his recollection for any memory of a conversation regarding a new chief diplomatic officer but came up empty.

The XO stopped what she was doing for a moment. “Oh. Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Forrester replied with a healthy dose included for good measure.

Kailir quickly resumed her packing. “You have a new officer to meet, and I need to finish packing and then tell Hejol about my reassignment.” she stopped again. “Just don’t get the ship destroyed while I’m gone.”

“You have my word.”

***

“The new CDO is waiting in your ready room.” Commander Bennett held out a PADD that Forrester accepted as he walked past. He paid little mind to the knowing smile she gave him.

The PADD contained the results of a recent tactical drill they’d run during the journey to Starbase Bravo. His focus was on the report as he entered the ready room and walked around the desk. When he glanced up, the device slipped from his fingers and fell to the desk with a clatter. “Matt,” he croaked, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Hey Tom,” Bentley’s tender tone and his charming smile cause the hairs on the back of Forrester’s neck to rise

Forrester cleared his throat, “Hey.” Matthias Bentley was not high on the list of the people he’d expected to find when he walked in. “You’re my new CDO?”

“That’s right,” Bentley confirmed gently. “I should do this properly.” He held out a PADD that he’d been holding in his left hand “Commander Matthais Bentley, reporting for duty.”

Hesitantly, Forrester accepted the PADD. He didn’t give it so much as a glance, his gaze fixed on the man in front of him, and set it down beside the dropped PADD. “I thought you’d retired.” Bentley opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the door chime.

“Come,” Forrester called, glancing past Bentley.

The door parted, admitting entry to an unfamiliar officer with four silver pips attached to his collar and a PADD in his right hand. “Captain Forrester,” he extended a hand as he approached the desk, “Captain Maxwell Stafford, Fourth Fleet Chief of Staff.”

“Good to meet you,” Forrester clasped Stafford’s hand firmly and shook it before motioning to Bentley. “My new CDO, Commander Matthais Bentley.” He watched as both men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

Stafford kept his gaze on Bentley, “Commander, what do you know of Vinex II?”

“Uh,” Bentley’s eyebrows shot up momentarily as he scoured his memory. “Vinex II,” he said slowly, “is a mining colony in the Velorum sector, part of the modern Romulan Star Empire” Stafford nodded slowly and motioned for him to continue. “About twenty years ago, following the Shinzon coup d’etat, the Reman miners demanded equality and a place in government. The Romulans refused, which led to four years of bloody conflict. Since then, they’ve maintained a fragile peace through a power-sharing government and the principle of consent.”

Forrester shot Stafford a questioning glance. “Why are we talking about a planet deep in Romulan space?”

“There’s been a coup d’etat on Rator III,” Stafford told them solemnly. “The Senate’s been dissolved, and the military’s in charge.” As Stafford continued, Bentley and Forrester shared a concerned look, “The move hasn’t gone down well. Planets and regions all over the Star Empire are declaring independence, while some are looking to the other Romulan factions. The Velorum Sector is one of the regions to declare independence and has requested Federation assistance.”

Bentley eyed Stafford sceptically. “A Romulan regional Governor has specifically requested Federation assistance?”

“He’s Reman.” Stafford silently watched the surprise on both their faces. “I was surprised too. He apparently led a revolt and seized power. Now he’s asking for our help.” He handed over the PADD he’d been holding. “Your task is to mediate between the parties on Vinex II. The government is gridlocked, no one can agree on which path to take, and their fragile peace is beginning to break down.

Forrester skimmed over the data contained on the PADD. “No pressure.”

“Good luck, gentlemen.” Stafford was gone as quickly as he came.

Maintaining his professional demeanour, Forrester was the first to speak. “Prepare a briefing for the senior officers in four hours. We should be underway by then.” He handed the PADD over.

“Understood.” Bentley hesitated for a moment. “Tom,” his voice was soft, and his eyes held an expectant look, “Is this okay? Me being here?”

 The captain nodded. “Of course,” he replied, “I need a diplomatic officer with your skills and experience.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Bentley quickly shot back.

Forrester’s reply was just as quick. “I know. But-”

“Don’t tell me,” Bentley quickly cut across him, “we can’t do this right now.” Forrester’s gaze shifted downwards, unable to meet Bentley’s. “Some things really don’t change.” He could feel Bentley watching him for a few seconds. “I’ll go make a start on this briefing.” 

When Bentley was gone, the captain’s shoulders sagged, and he collapsed into his chair, his head resting against the back of the chair. He didn’t have much time to overthink what just happened because the door chime sounded not even a minute after Matt’s exit again.

Commander Bennett stepped in a few moments later. “Is everything okay, sir?” She asked cautiously.

“I can’t stop hurting him.” The moment he realised he wasn’t alone, Forrester’s demeanour changed. He straightened up and cleared his throat. “Commander, I’m glad your here. Have a seat.” When Bennett was seated, waiting expectantly for whatever came next, he continued, “Commander Kailiar has been temporarily reassigned. I need you to pull double duty as Exec and CSO.”

The chief science officer looked, understandably, shocked. “I…I only passed the bridge officers exam a few months ago. I’m not ready.”

“That’s nonsense.” Forrester shot back, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. “I’ve watched you these past few months. You’re not just a great science officer but a natural leader. I wouldn’t be asking this if I didn’t think you were ready.” Bennett seemed less sure. She fidgeted with her hands for a few seconds. “Look, I won’t force you to do this. But I know no one I’d rather have watching my back.” He sat back and studied her for a moment. “We should be departing in an hour. Take the next thirty minutes to think about it, and talk to people if needed.”

Bennett nodded. “Thank you, sir.” She stood and briskly left the room. 

***

“Where are we, XO?” Tom asked as he strode onto the bridge. 

Having temporarily swapped the blue of science for the red of command, Commander Bennett stood smartly and took a step to her right. “All departments report ready, sir. Station Operations has cleared us for departure.”

“See? You’re a natural.” He muttered, earning a smile from his acting First Officer. “Commander Mitchell, was our runabout swap successful?”

Mitchell rotated in his chair enough that he could meet Forrester’s gaze without having to crane his neck too much. “Yes, sir.” He replied with a smile. “Two of our Danube-class runabouts have been transferred to Starbase Bravo, and the two new Arrow-class runabouts are tucked up safe and sound.”

“I’m sure you’re itching to put them through their paces,” he gave his friend a knowing smile. When Mitchell nodded, he added, “I’ll see if I can provide you with the opportunity. In the meantime, take us out. Once we’re clear of the system, lay in a course for Vinex II and engage at warp eight.”

Mitchell turned back to his console, and his fingers danced gracefully across its surface, inputting a series of commands. “Impulse engines engaged. ETA to system edge, twenty minutes.”

Forrester felt a pang of guilt at the empty chair as he glanced to his left. He tried to tell himself that Bentley was elsewhere, familiarising himself with the data they’d been provided and preparing to brief the senior officers. But the captain couldn’t shake the feeling that Bentley was already avoiding him after only a few hours onboard. He knew they would need to sit down and talk things through eventually, but for right now, he had to focus on the task at hand. 

The future of Vinex II depended on them.

Fools. That was what Tarnek Oreth thought of the Admiralty. Bloody fools. They’d learned nothing from the Shinzon coup just over twenty years ago. Once again, they’d swept the Senate aside with disastrous consequences. This time, they’d precipitated the possible collapse of what remained of the Romulan Star Empire.

Oreth had no great love for the Senate, and he considered some of the recent decisions to be questionable in the face of a few outlying systems declaring independence. But the actions of the Star Navy had only caused the problem to escalate beyond the Star Navy’s control.

“Fools,” Oreth muttered to the empty room.

The chirp of the comm system snapped him out of his thoughts. “Bridge to Commander Oreth,” his second in command’s voice boomed, “we’re receiving a signal from Rator.” Oreth could hear the unsaid ‘again’ in the tone of the Sub Commander’s voice.

“Maintain communications silence. Oreth out.” He cut the channel and released a long sigh.

The Vilinat had spent the past few days operating under cloak near the Federation border with an almost total communications blackout. He’d told the crew they were having problems with the communications system. Oreth had continued to monitor news feeds to keep himself up to date with the current situation.

Oreth didn’t doubt the loyalty of his officers. They supported him years ago when he stole the Vilinat, after becoming disillusioned with the Empire, and turned to a life of piracy in the Triangle. He had been forgiven those crimes once and knew that they would not be overlooked again. His crew had no great desire to return to that life, and they would not be dragged down with the rest of the Star Empire. The question would the junior members of his crew support him. He would put them off on the nearest friendly planet if they wouldn’t, as he had done over a decade ago with his last crew.

Seated in his favourite chair, Oreth thumbed through a copy of a human book, The Art of War. It was already well worn when he’d purchased it and had only become more so over the years. The music of one of his favourite composers, long since dead, played softly on his cabin’s comm.

His evening reading was interrupted by his first officer again. “Bridge to Commander Oreth. We’ve detected a Federation starship approaching the border.“

“Can you identify it?” Oreth asked in response, already suspecting the answer.

The response was as he expected, “Not at this range, Commander.” 

That answer only fuelled Oreth’s frustration at his current situation. With more modern sensors, a newer ship would have had no trouble identifying the Federation ship. Even a thirty-year-old D’Deridex-class warbird would have had little difficulty. The Vilinat was over a century old. In the middle of the last century, she was retired but returned to service and upgraded to assist with the supernova crisis.

“Very well.” Oreth finally begrudgingly replied. “I’m on my way.”

Oreth instructed the computer to pause the music’s playback and tossed the book on his bed. He was growing tired of watching Federation starships violating Romulan space unchallenged.

***

Barber’s Adagio for Strings filled Captain Forrester’s quarters, providing the backing track to his evening. Lounging on his recliner, Forrester held a PADD above him, his free arm tucked behind his head, as he read a book on the history of the Romulan Star Empire written early in the 2360s by Ambassador Spock. He hoped the legendary Vulcan ambassador could provide some insight into the Romulan psyche that he could use during their upcoming talks.

Forrester’s body instantly tensed at the sound of the shrill door chime filling the room. He set the PADD down as he rose from the recliner and padded barefoot to the door. The instant he found his best friend standing there, the tension his body was holding melted away. “A.J.”

“Expecting someone else?” Mitchell asked knowingly as he brushed past his friend.

Since their conversation yesterday, Forrester hoped that a certain scruffy blond would stop by. He wanted to talk, but every time he tried to push himself to take that first step and seek Bentley out, he found himself frozen to the spot. 

“No.” Lying to his best friend was an exercise in futility, but he still hoped that he’d succeed this time even after a quarter of a century.

It was clear from his expression that, as expected, Mitchell didn’t believe him. “So,” he flopped down on the couch, “Matt’s back onboard. How do we feel about that?”

“Fine,” Forrester replied evenly as he retrieved two glasses from the replicator. One was filled with ice water, while the other contained a gin and tonic with several slices of lime.

Mitchell sat up and accepted the glass. “You wanna try that again?” He asked. “With feeling this time?”

“I’m glad he’s here,” Forrester admitted softly, hoping that would satisfy his friend.

If his friend’s eye roll was any indication, it did not. “Because you need a good diplomatic officer, right?”

“You spoke to him.” It was less of a question than a statement.

Mitchell took a sip. “If that’s what you wanna call it. After you two finished speaking, he tracked me down in the shuttlebay and tore me a new one.”

“Why would he-” The final piece of the jigsaw finally slotted into place. “You’re the reason he’s here. You and Tejara.” How had he not seen this coming? “You two have been as thick as thieves ever since that reception on Coltar.”

His friend’s satisfied grin was one of his least endearing features. “We felt you both needed a push.”

“You had no right-“

Mitchell leaned forward. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t miss him.”

There was no point even trying to deny it. Forrester could only glower at his friend. The satisfaction on his friend’s face was unbearable, but there was no smile this time. Mitchell was taking no pleasure in being right this time.

“If Kailir and I hadn’t intervened, you’d be here, he’d be on Earth, and you’d both be miserable,” Mitchell argued.

That drew a snort from Forrester. “We’re still miserable.”

“Fair point,” Mitchell replied with a grim smile. “But that’s easier to fix when just a few decks separate you instead of a few thousand light-years. You just need to talk to him.”

Forrester stared sadly at the half-full glass perched on his knee. “I don’t know if I can do it, A.J.”

“You can’t talk to him?” Mitchell asked, his face contorted in confusion.

The captain’s eyes never left his glass. “I don’t know if I can open up to someone like that. I don’t know if I can be what he wants or deserves.”

“Isn’t it better to try and fail than to spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been?” It pained him to admit it, but Mitchell had a point. “Worse, spend the rest of your life driving me crazy wondering what might have been.”

Forrester rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, we can’t have that, can we?”

The chirp of the comm interrupted. “Bridge to Captain.” 

“Forrester here.”

Lieutenant Commander Del’s disembodied voice reported, “We’ve just entered Romulan space, sir.”

“Take us to yellow alert and begin scanning for cloaked vessels,” Forrester ordered.

The Chief of Security’s reply was almost instant. “Aye, sir.”

“Forrester out.”

Mitchell watched him silently for a moment. “Do you really think the Romulans will send a ship to shadow us?”

“I dunno,” Forrester admitted with a shrug. “Given the number of fires they’re trying to put out combined with the sheer number of Starfleet ships pouring into the Velorum Sector, I don’t know if they have the assets to spare.” Forrester gulped down the last of his water. “But I’m gonna take any chances.”  

Mitchell nodded before draining his glass and shaking it in Forrester’s direction. “I’ll take another when you’re ready.”

With a dramatic sigh, Forrester pushed himself from his chair and took the empty glass from his friend as he grumbled something inaudible under his breath.

***

“Centurion, report,” Oreth ordered as he stepped onto the bridge. 

The young woman consulted her console. “We are tracking a Federation Galaxy-class starship, which has just entered Romulan space. It will enter visual range in three minutes.”

“And then we might actually be able to identify which of Starfleet’s much-lauded Galaxy-class ships we are dealing with.” Oreth took his seat, unable to do anything more than wait for the next three minutes to pass.

Those three minutes stretched into an eternity, at least from Oreth’s perspective. Finally, the centurion spoke again, “The Federation vessel has entered Romulan space and is now in visual range.”

“Show me,” Oreth ordered, sliding forward in his chair. The viewscreen changed from the sensor readout to an image of the Federation ship, unmistakably a Galaxy-class starship like the one they’d come face to face with one in the Gamma Quadrant last year. “Enlarge the image. I want to see its name.” 

A few seconds ticked by before the image changed again to show the name emblazoned on its hull: U.S.S. CHALLENGER NCC-71099.

“Well, well, well,” Oreth said slowly with a predatory grin. “Look who it is.” He turned to the centurion. “Can you determine their destination based on their current course?” 

The centurion worked her console. “It looks like they are destined for the Vinex System.”

“Vinex.” He repeated. He had been the first officer to Vinex’s Co-Governor when the latter had commanded a D’Deridex-class warbird twenty-five years ago. “Helm lay in a course to shadow the Challenger and engage.” The Starfleet captain had been responsible for Oreth’s failure at Darox. He wasn’t going to let this chance to get even slip through his fingers.

His first officer took a step closer. “Commander-“

“Captain Forrester and I have unfinished business.” Oreth hissed. “I will not sit here watching any longer. If you cannot follow my orders, I will find someone who will.”

The first officer bowed his head and resumed his position.

Oreth sat back and settled into his chair. If Captain Forrester believed he would steal Vinex II and its pergium mines for the Federation, he would be sadly mistaken.

The starship Challenger slipped gracefully into orbit over Vinex II, her three-day journey from Starbase Bravo ended. They joined a handful of cargo ships already in orbit; a sign that, despite the political turmoil, life on Vinex was continuing as usual.

Commander Gabrielle Bennett glanced over her right shoulder, suddenly overcome by the sense that she was out of place. As chief science officer, she would typically have busied herself by scanning the other ships while monitoring for signs of cloaked ships. Instead, she was seated to the captain’s right as they presided over the officers on the bridge. Gabrielle glanced at Commander Bentley, who was sitting to Forrester’s left. Bentley looked like he felt as out of place as she did; the easy smile that usually graced his features was gone, his entire body radiating tension.

“Commander Dal,” Forrester’s voice snapped her back to the task at hand, “hail the plan-“

An alarm on Dal’s console interrupted the captain. “Sir, there’s a Romulan vessel decloaking directly ahead.”

“Red alert,” Gabrielle ordered. The overhead lights dimmed, red lights slowly flashed, and the siren blared for a few seconds.

All eyes moved to the viewscreen, where the shimmering image of a Romulan warbird slowly solidified. “It’s a D-7 battlecruiser,” Dal reported, “the configuration matches a Romulan vessel you encountered in the Gamma Quadrant last year.”

“Oreth,” Forrester muttered, his right hand clenching into a fist.

She looked again at Bentley. He looked tense, and the colour had drained from his features. Gabrielle wasn’t surprised. The last time they’d encountered Commander Oreth, he’d engineered the death of a Prime Minister and ensured that Matthais was falsely accused. The diplomatic officer had spent several days in prison and been marked for death. That sentence would’ve been carried out but for the captain ordering a prison break.

“We’re being hailed,” Dal announced.

Gabrielle watched as Forrester took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have. “Onscreen.”

“Captain Forrester,” Oreth began when he appeared on the viewscreen, “what a surprise.” His eyes scanned the bridge menacingly. When they fell on Bentley, his mouth twisted into a malevolent smirk. “Doctor Bentley, I hope you’ll manage to keep yourself out of trouble this time.”

Forrester jumped to his feet, both hands now balled into fists. “What do you want, Oreth?” He demanded.

“You are violating Romulan space.” Oreth’s smirk was gone, a cold fury shining in his grey eyes. “Withdraw to Federation territory immediately.”

That wasn’t going to happen, and Oreth knew it. “Or what?” Forrester challenged. “Even with all your ships upgrades, you’re no match for the Challenger.”

“I don’t have to attack your ship to hurt you.” That damned smirk reappeared on the Romulan’s lips as his eyes found Bentley once more, who paled further.

Oreth was baiting Forrester and, much as Gabrielle hated to admit it, was doing an excellent job. He knew exactly how to hurt the captain. “We’re here at the behest of Vinex’s government. If you have a problem with our presence, take it up with them. Challenger out.”

Forrester’s shoulders sagged the second Oreth’s face disappeared. Gabrielle shot Bentley a sympathetic look, but he only met her gaze briefly, his eyes darting to the floor in front of him. Having taken a moment to gather himself, Forrester straightened. “Commander Dal, hail the planet.”

***

“The Challenger is hailing the planet.” Centurion Setk announced.

Commander Oreth hadn’t expected the Challenger to withdraw just because he said so. “Monitor their transmission. I want to know what they say.” Rattling Forrester had been satisfying, but that satisfaction lasted only a few moments. He needed to find out why the Challenger was here and begin to formulate a plan. “I’ll be in my cabin.”

The commander’s cabin on the Vilinat was located near the bridge to allow the commander to reach the ship’s command centre in an emergency. When he entered his cabin, his eye was drawn to his personal terminal. It was active, which it had not been when he’d left. Looking around, carefully studying the room, there was no sign that anyone had been there since he left.

Cautiously, he moved deeper into the room, his eyes searching for anything, the smallest detail, that might provide a clue to explain why his terminal was active, but there was nothing. When he finally stepped around his desk and looked at the terminal, he found a message. ‘We have a proposal for you. Meet at these coordinates in one hour,‘ the message read with a set of coordinates for the planet below, ‘come alone.‘

***

“What d’you mean you’re not letting me beam down?” Bentley demanded. “I’m the CDO; you need me there.”

“Are you having hearing problems, commander?” Forrester asked snottily. “I’ll be able to manage the face to face meetings without you, and you’ll still be able to advise me from the Challenger,” Forrester said as he took a seat behind his desk.

While Gabrielle understood the captain’s caution, she felt he was being overly cautious but, for now, kept that opinion to herself and let the two men argue it out.

“I need to be in the room.” Bentley remained standing, pacing back and forth. “I need to be able to look people in the eye, read their body language, and let their demeanour tell me what their words don’t.”

Forrester’s chair tilted back as he leaned against it. He was trying to look relaxed, something he usually managed to do even during peak stress. But right now, she could see the tension in his muscles; he was wound as tight as a coiled spring. “I’ve already told you, you’re not beaming down. This isn’t a discussion. I’m the captain, the decision ultimately rests with me, and I’m saying no.”

“Captain,” Gabrielle leaned forward slightly, “I think Commander Bent-“

Forrester’s head snapped sharply around, and he glared at her with an intensity she’d never seen from him. “As you were, Commander.”

Gabrielle recoiled like she’d been slapped. Since she’d been on the Challenger, the captain had never spoken to anyone like that. He certainly would never have spoken to Commander Kailir in that manner. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Commander Bentley,” Gabrielle  said softly, “can you excuse us for a moment.”

Bentley glared at Forrester for a few moments, who just glared back before turning on his heel and walking out. Once Bentley was gone, Forrester turned lazily to face her. “Whatever you ne-” He stopped abruptly when Gabrielle raised a finger to silence him. The look of surprise at being sushed in such a manner was priceless. Had the atmosphere been less tense, she might have enjoyed it.

“Why did you choose me to be your Executive Officer?” She eventually asked, folding her arms.

Forrester seemed visibly confused by the question. “Excuse me?”

“Are you having hearing problems, captain?” Gabrielle took a small measure of satisfaction in throwing Forrester’s own snotty question back at him. “Why did you choose me to be your Executive Officer? Is it because you wanted a ‘yes man’? Because of my lack of command experience, you thought I’d just go along with whatever you decided and if not that I could be cowed into submission by the great Captain Forrester?”

Gabrielle watched as realisation dawned on the captain. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his forehead. “I shouldn’t have shut you down like that.”

“You wouldn’t dream of treating Commander Kailir like that,” Gabrielle scolded him, “and I won’t be treated that way either.”

Forrester nodded. “You’re right.” He agreed. “If I tried, she’d call me on my bullshit.” The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “And I’m glad you’re calling me on it. It only reinforces my belief that you’re the right choice to replace her.”

“Oreth really rattled you.” It wasn’t a question.

The captain nodded in agreement. “Yeah.” He replied with a heavy sigh. “If he’d threatened me, he wouldn’t have gotten a rise. But when he threatened….” Forrester trailed off, meeting Gabrielle’s gaze.

“I understand.” She told him softly. “But Commander Bentley’s right. You can’t wrap him up in cotton wool because of what happened at Darox. You’ll need him in the room with you.”

Forrester didn’t react immediately. His gaze fell to the surface of his desk, and he stared intently at it. “I know.” He finally admitted before pushing himself out of his chair. “I should get going.” Forrester emerged on the bridge moments later, striding towards the aft turbolift.      “Commanders Bentley and Dal, with me.” He stopped near the turbolift. Both Dal and Bentley walked past him, with both men studiously avoiding making eye contact. “The Challenger is yours, Commander. Don’t scratch the paint.”

Gabrielle nodded and watched as the captain entered the turbolift. When the doors closed, she slowly lowered herself onto the centre seat. This wasn’t her first time sitting on this piece of bridge furniture, but with the captain beaming to the surface and Kailir off, who knows where this was the first time the buck really stopped with her. The gravity of this moment wasn’t lost on her, underlined by Oreth’s D-7 on the viewscreen.

It didn’t take long for the Starfleet delegation to understand just what a monumental task mediating a successful outcome between these two blocs would be. The arguments went round and round in circles for fifty minutes like a political merry-go-round, but with absolutely no merriment.

“As I have already told you, the Romulan population of Vinex will not follow Resak. We wish to remain part of the Romulan Star Empire.” Velan argued.

The Reman bloc’s leader, Kretuk, sneered. “The Romulan Star Empire is dying,” he shot back with his gravelly bass voice, “we refuse to be dragged down with it.”

“You’d like that,” Joint Governor Velan grumbled, “to see the Star Empire brought to its knees by a Reman.” 

Kretuk’s sneer intensified. “If the Empire falls now, it will not be because of Resak’s actions but those of the Star Navy.”

“Yes,” Velan begrudgingly agreed after several seconds of silence, “you’re right about that. The military’s stupidity and lack of foresight have led us to this point.”

Forrester leaned forward and, a little too cheerily, announced, “Well, at least we can all agree on something.”

“Right now, Captain, it is all we agree on.” Velan’s shoulders slumped. “Both sides are so entrenched, and I don’t see how you can move either of us from our respective positions.”

Kretuk nodded in silent agreement. “I know it’s difficult for you to see a way forward right now,” Forrester said with a sigh, “to be honest, neither do I. But I’m confident that as my team and I get to better understand your people and your situation here in the coming days, we will be able to figure out a way forward.”

“I hope you’re right, Captain.” Velan looked across the conference table at Kretuk, “I fear the consequences of failure will be most grave.”

No pressure then, Forrester thought sourly. “Why don’t we take a short recess while I confer with Commander Bentley. We’ll reconvene in forty minutes.”

“Very well,” Kretuk replied. The sound of multiple chair legs scraping on the marble floor filled the room. The Joint Governors stopped at the door and turned back to face Forrester’s group. “We have planned a reception and banquet for your senior officers tonight.”

That sounded less like an invitation than an instruction. “We’d be honoured.” Forrester glanced from Kretuk to Velan, “thank you, gentlemen.”

When the doors closed, leaving the three Starfleet Officers alone, Forrester slid down in his chair. “On a scale of one to ten, how do you feel that went?” An answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming. Forrester chanced a glance at Bentley, whose grim countenance said everything. “That’s what I thought.”

“Finding a solution isn’t impossible,” Bentley assured him, giving with one hand before taking with the other, “but we have one hell of a mountain to climb.”

Forrester sat up and activated his PADD. “Alright, let’s go through everything we learned in that session.” With Dal watching over them, Forrester and Bentley huddled together and began comparing notes, any tension between them set aside for the good of their mission.

***

An uneasy knot tied itself in Oreth’s stomach as he paced the alley. He was beginning to think that coming here had been a mistake, but his curiosity got the better of him. The coordinates in the message led to this darkened alley on the capital’s outskirts. Oreth still hadn’t figured out how they’d managed that. Did someone on the Vilinat break into his quarters to deliver the message without leaving a trace? Or had the message been delivered by some other means? Had his ship’s computer been compromised?

A noise at the end of the dark alley startled Oreth. He swiftly turned and drew his disrupter pistol, pointing it in the direction of the noise, but there was nothing there.

“Commander Oreth.”

He spun in the opposite direction to find himself pointing his disruptor pistol at a fellow Romulan dressed in a familiar officer. “The Tal Shiar.” Oreth sneered. “I should’ve known.”

“You won’t need your disruptor, Commander,” the Tal Shiar officer told him, “If we had wanted to kill you, we would not be having this conversation.”

Oreth hesitated before slowly sliding the disruptor into the holster attached to his right hip. “How reassuring.” He commented dryly. “What does the Tal Shiar want with me?”

“You served with Governor Velan when he was in the military.” 

The statement drew a slow nod of agreement from Oreth, “I was his first officer for three years. Why?”

“We want you to get close to him.” The mysterious officer announced. “I’m sure he’d welcome his former first officer’s advice during this difficult time.”

Oreth was beginning to see where this was going. “And you want me to advise him to lead Vinex into the warm embrace of the Free State.”

“Precisely.” The Tal Shiar officer offered a cold smile. “Soon, the Romulan Star Empire will be consigned to the pages of history. Would you see this world fall into the hands of the Reman, Resak? Or become an annexe of the Federation? We only want what’s best for Vinex.”

Oreth scoffed. “Best for Vinex,” he repeated, “You want Vinex’s rich pergium mines.” 

“I won’t deny that the pergium mined on Vinex would come in useful, but our overriding concern is the welfare of the Romulans on this world.” The Tal Shiar officer’s sincerity was dubious.

The smirk on Oreth’s face clearly indicated he didn’t believe the stranger. “Of course.” Convincing Valan to follow the Free State wasn’t going to be easy. “Valen has no love for the Free State. What if I’m unable to convince him?”

“Then he must be eliminated.” The casual way he spoke of murder may have shocked someone else, but not Oreth. “And we will find someone to replace him who is more sympathetic to the Free State.” That cold smile returned. “We believe you have some experience in eliminating planetary leaders.”

It was true that he’d arranged the murder of the Prime Minister of Darox III in the Gamma Quadrant at the end of last year. He would’ve gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for the meddlesome Captain Forrester. “What’s in it for me?”

The Tal Shiar officer pulled a small device from a pocket on the inside of his jacket. Activating it, the holographic image of a Dhailkhina-class warbird materialised above it. “How would you like to command one of our most advanced warbirds?”

Oreth was quickly mesmerised by the image of the warbird slowly rotating. It was beautiful. Before the supernova crisis, he’d been in line to command one of the latest Valdore-class warbirds, the most prestigious of commands. Instead, he’d been handed a hastily upgraded, century-old D-7. He snapped back to reality as it dawned on him who he was talking to. “Complete with its own Tal Shiar agent, no doubt.”

“A small price to pay for command of such a modern warbird.” The Tal Shiar officer replied as he deactivated the holo display and replaced the device in his pocket.

Even if Oreth was able to convince Valen, that still left the issue of the Remans. “No matter how the Romulan bloc is persuaded to join the Free State, that still leaves the Remans. They will not support such a move.”

“The Remans will not be a problem for much longer. Their bloc will splinter, and we’ll pick up enough support.” The mysterious officer replied cryptically.

There was still one fly in the ointment. “And what of the Federation ship? Captain Forrester will undoubtedly interfere, especially if there is even a whiff of foul play.”

“Captain Forrester will not pose a threat to our plans. His ship will soon be forced to withdraw,” the Tal Shiar officer replied, “Even if the Federation sends another, it will take days to reach us. The Federation will not pose a threat to our plans.”

Oreth remained silent for a few moments, his decision already made.

The mysterious stranger took several steps closer. “So what is it to be, Commander Oreth? Advancing the interests of the Free State and earning command of a state of the art warbird? Or continuing to serve a dead empire in an ancient D-7?”

***

“Tarnek, my old friend.” Valen welcomed his former first officer with open arms. They embraced warmly, with much back-slapping. “What brings you to Vinex?”

Oreth had already concocted a believable story, and it was unlikely that Valen would have reason to doubt him or contact Rator to confirm it. “I’ve been sent to advise you during these talks.” It was an easy lie for him to tell because it wasn’t an outright lie but a lie of omission. He had been asked to advise Valen, just not by the Empire.

The Romulan Governor looked visibly relieved. “I’m glad you’re here, my friend. I’ve always valued your counsel.” Valen led them to an area of his office that had more relaxed seating, lowering himself slowly into an armchair. “The Remans will not see reason. They want to follow this Resak. They cannot see the folly of that choice.”

Oreth agreed that following Resak would be a mistake for any world. “Remans were always short-sighted. Better suited to working in the mines.”

“I once felt the same,” Valen replied slowly. “But I have found Kretuk to be a reasonable, thoughtful and pragmatic partner in government. But on this matter, he is as stubborn as you would expect a Reman to be.”

Oreth had to school his features to mask the disgust at hearing his old commander refer to a Reman in such glowing terms. “Well, I am at your service once more.” He replied smoothly.

“Thank you, old friend.” Valen leaned forward and patted Oreth’s leg. “That means a lot.” A warm smile lit up his features. “Now, how about a drink. I still have that bottle of kali-fal you gave me.”

Oreth’s smile slipped once Valen’s back was turned. The old man’s time on Vinex, working alongside the Remans had made him soft. Whatever hesitation he felt at killing his old friend was gone. The Valen in front of him wasn’t the same man Oreth remembered.

“Come!” Forrester shouted as he tugged at the dress uniform jacket for the fourth time in a minute.

Similarly dressed in his dress uniform, Alexander Mitchell stepped inside the captain’s quarters to find Forrester standing in front of a mirror, tugging and adjusting his uniform. “Would you hurry up? We’re gonna be late.”

“Why is it,” Forrester began, his eyes glued to his reflection, “that with all the advanced technology at our disposal, Starfleet can’t design a comfortable dress uniform?”

Mitchell approached his friend. “Never mind that. We’re due to beam down in five minutes.” He waved his left hand in the direction of the door. “Let’s go.”

“Fine,” Forrester gave the uniform one last adjustment before deactivating the holographic mirror and starting towards the door.

Mitchell followed the captain and quickly fell into step beside him. “You’re gonna take it easy tonight, right?”

“What d’you mean?” Forrester asked. It only took a glance at his friend’s face for him to get his answer. “Oh, come on!”

The captain’s annoyance did nothing to prevent Mitchell from making his point. “I’m just saying, Romulan ale’s powerful stuff, and you can’t hold your liquor.”

“I’m not gonna get drunk at a diplomatic function, AJ.” The captain told him with an exasperated tone. “And I can hold my liquor just fine.”

Still, Mitchell pressed. “D’you remember that night out, just after we’d finished our finals?”

“No,” Forrester admitted after a moment’s hesitation. He knew what AJ was about to say; he’d heard it before and was about to again because his friend loved bringing this incident up.

Mitchell jabbed his index finger in the captain’s direction. “Exactly. You had three drinks and were passed out on the floor before ten. I had to drag you home and put you to bed. You’ve never been able to remember a thing about that night, And it’s not like you were drinking the strong stuff. You’re a lightweight.”

“I’ll be careful.” Forrester finally agreed grudgingly. “Can we drop this now?”

Seemingly satisfied that his point was made, Mitchell agreed as they entered the transporter room. Bentley shot him an annoyed look, unhappy at being kept waiting. He tried to brush off the guilt that had settled deep in his stomach since Matt’s arrival.

“Let’s get down there and mingle,” Forrester told them as he led his senior officers onto the transporter pad. “And remember, this isn’t just a party but a chance to gain some insight that may help us going forward.”

The Challenger’s senior officers materialised in a lobby within seconds of giving the order to energise. Beyond was a large reception room where strains of Romulan music could already be heard. The group was approached by a Romulan official. “Captain Forrester, welcome back to Vinex. The Governors are already inside if you’ll follow me.”

Forrester followed the official, with his officers in tow. Once through the door, they dispersed, moving around the room while he continued following the official to where the Joint Governors were standing. They were talking to a Romulan who had his back to Forrester. “Ah, Captain Forrester.” The third man said when Forrester finally reached the trio. It took a lot of restraint for him not to wipe that insincere smile off the Romulan’s face. 

“Oreth.” His acknowledgement of the Romulan Commander was minimal before turning to the Governors. “It’s good to see you both again.” Forrester reached out a hand towards Kretuk first and then Velan.

Kretuk glanced from Forrester to Oreth. “You know each other.”

“Yes.” Oreth clapped a hand on Forrester’s shoulder. The Romulan commander seemed to know exactly how to get under Forrester’s skin and was taking pleasure from doing so. “We crossed paths last year in the Gamma Quadrant.” His insincere smile grew. “It’s been too long.”

Forrester narrowed his eyes. “I was just thinking that it hasn’t been long enough.” Oreth threw his head back and forced a laugh while Valen looked uncomfortable with the tense atmosphere between the two starship captains, and Kretuk watched them inscrutably. “What’s your role here?”

“Commander Oreth will be advising me,” Valen replied stiffly, seemingly offended by Forester’s dislike of Oreth. “If you’ll excuse us, Captain, I’d like to introduce the Commander to a few people.” As Oreth was led away, he and Forrester maintained eye contact, hatred for one another burning in their eyes.

Eventually, Forrester returned his attention to Governor Kretuk. “You don’t like him,” Kretuk announced as a waiter arrived with two glasses of blue liquid. The Governor took one while Forrester reached for the other. 

“He orchestrated the murder of the leader of a planet in the Gamma Quadrant and tried to frame Commander Bentley for it,” Forrester replied as he eyed the Romulan ale in his hand. “To say that I don’t like him is an understatement.” Kretuk watched silently as Forrester took a gulp of his drink, only for the captain to instantly regret it.

***

Matthias Bentley was in his element. As much as he’d enjoyed teaching, he enjoyed the fine art of diplomacy more. Making small talk, gathering snippets of information from people in the know who wanted to show off and as the first hour wore on and more alcohol was consumed, it got easier to gather that information. Excusing himself from his current conversation, Bentley moved toward someone who had caught his eye. Standing awkwardly at the side, Commander Gabrielle Bennett was watching proceedings silently.

“I believe the captain told us to mingle, Commander,” Bentley prodded playfully as he sidled up next to her.

Commander Bennett shot him a look that Bentley couldn’t quite read. Between his first spell of the Challenger and now, he still didn’t know many of the senior officers particularly well. “Just taking a break.” A waiter approached them with two glasses of rose wine.

They took a sip of their wine, grimacing as the liquid hit their tastebuds. Bentley had transmitted a copy of the replicator patterns for several varieties of wine, but apparently, the Vinex replicators hadn’t done an excellent job. He would swear that it tasted like a mixture of banana and peach instead of grape. “That is awful.” He announced, eyeing the drink warily.

“Still better than Romulan ale,” Bennett added.

Bentley smiled at the comment. “Don’t let our hosts hear you say that.”

“I don’t have a death wish.” Bennett smiled back. Her eyes scanned the room slowly, eventually falling on something apparently of interest. Bentley followed her gaze to find Bennett watching the captain talking with his hands. “I’ve never seen the captain so animated.”

“Captain’s drunk.” A third voice, belonging to Alexander Mitchell, announced as he approached them. 

Bentley watched the captain closely. He seemed to be holding something in his hand and was showing it to the group of Romulans and Remans he was talking to. “How do you know?” Bennett asked.

“Oh god.” Bentley groaned as he realised what he was watching. “He’s doing his magic trick.”

Judging by the surprised look on her face, this was news to Bennett. “The captain knows magic?”

“Alex taught him a trick during our third year at the Academy,” Bentley told her, his eyes fixed on the captain.

Bennett turned to Mitchell. “How do you know magic?”

“He was taught by a guy he was f-” Bentley started to answer.

Mitchell quickly cut across him. “Friends with.” 

“How much has he had to drink?” Bennett asked.

Mitchell shrugged. “Two.”

“How is he this drunk on two drinks?” After all these months, the question highlighted how little she knew of the captain.

Bentley and Mithcell answered simultaneously. “He’s a lightweight.”

The three officers watched as Forrester tried to make the coin he somehow managed to acquire disappear, only for it to fall at his feet. The sight drew a groan from Bentley and Mitchell. “Yeah, you guys need to get him out of here now. He’s thirty seconds away from trying to lead those guys in a rendition of Country Roads.”

“Us? Why don’t you do it?” Bentley asked.

Mitchell’s amusement at their situation was really starting to annoy Bentley and, if her face was anything to go by, Bennett too. Mitchell’s reply only infuriated him more. “Cause I’ve put his drunk ass to bed more than enough. It’s your turn, lover boy.” With a shit-eating grin, Mitchell shot Bentley a wink before walking off.

“I’m going to kill him,” Bennett muttered as she watched Mitchell walk away. Her head snapped back to Forrester when she heard him singing the opening line of Country Roads. “I’ll make excuses for the captain; you get him back to the Challenger and put him to bed.”

Bentley followed hot on Bennett’s heels, quickly moving to the captain’s side, so they flanked him. “Excuse me, captain, you’re needed back on the Challenger.” Bennett interrupted Forrester mid-song. “Commander Bentley’s going to escort you.”

They were fooling no one. One would have to be blind to miss that the captain was drunk, and they seemed to take pleasure in the sight of a senior Starfleet officer in such a state. Bentley couldn’t worry about that; he needed to get Forrester home. He gently took the captain’s elbow in hand and began leading him away.

“Where are we going?” Forrester slurred his words as he spoke.

Bentley caught sight of Mitchell watching them with that stupid grin and a drink in hand. He raised his glass in salute. The desire to begin planning his revenge was strong, but Bentley needed to focus on steering the captain to the lobby. “I’m putting you to bed.”

Forrester let out a delighted hum. “Take me to bed, ya big stud.”

Much to Bentley’s continued annoyance, Forrester insisted on continuing to sing, segueing from Country Roads to Danny Boy during their walk. His annoyance was tempered with the knowledge that Forrester would suffer in the morning.

When they were clear of the ballroom, Bentley tapped his commbadge and ordered the transporter chief to beam him and Forrester directly to the captain’s quarters. In just a matter of seconds, the lobby dissolved around them and was replaced by the darkened captain’s quarters on the Challenger.

“Computer, lights,” Bentley ordered. “One-third illumination.”

As the lights slowly came up, Forrester took Bentley’s hand and began leading him towards the bedroom, a suggestive smile on his lips and desire smouldering in his hazel eyes. “I believe you said something about getting me into bed.”

“What I said,” Bentley replied, “was that I was going to put you to bed. You need to sleep off your two-drink bender.”

Forrester’s smile slipped, and his eyes darkened. He dropped Bentley’s hands and walked into the bedroom looking dejected. Bentley could feel annoyance rising in him again. He tried to tamp it down, telling himself that Forrester was drunk. Stepping into the bedroom, he found Forrester sitting at the end of his bed, struggling to remove one of his boots.

“Here,” Bentley kneeled in front of Forrester, “let me help.” He could feel Forrester’s eyes watching him intently as he removed the boots.

Bentley looked up, his eyes meeting Forrester’s. “I’m sorry.” The captain whispered, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. It caused Bentley to recoil slightly.

“It’s okay,” Bentley reassured him with a half-smile. “You’re not the first guy to drunkenly hit on me.” A flash of jealousy flared in Forrester’s eyes, so Bentley placed a hand on Forrester’s leg and gave him a squeeze. “Though you may need to apologise to Commander Bennett.”

Forrester leaned forward and snaked his hands around Bentley’s neck, rubbing his thumb across the skin. “No.” Bentley’s skin tingled at Forrester’s touch. “I’m sorry I keep hurting you,” Forrester whispered.

Bentley couldn’t speak. The Thomas Forrester in front of him was one he’d only rarely seen during their most intimate moments on Earth. The barriers that Forrester usually erected around his feelings were completely absent. He could ask Forrester anything right now, and he was sure he’d get a completely open and honest answer.

“I’ve missed you, Matty,” Forrester whispered, leaning further forward to rest his forehead against Bentley’s. “I’ve missed you.” He repeated, softer this time.

Bentley closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the few moments of intimacy he’d missed. The pull to try and talk to Forrester now was strong. He’d be less likely to shut down in his current state. But that wouldn’t do much good if Forrester didn’t actually remember the conversation in the morning. The comfortable silence continued, and part of him didn’t want it to end, but his legs were beginning to protest.

Forrester’s weight was heavy against him, his limbs loose. “If you’ve fallen asleep, I swear.” Bentley pushed Forrester back, holding him upright, but his eyes weren’t closed. They were still open and glassy. It seemed like he was looking through Bentley rather than at him. “Tom?” He rubbed a hand over Forrester’s cheek over his beard.

It felt like time slowed to a crawl. Bentley watched as Forrester’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, his body wracked with convulsions. “Tom!” Bentley gently lowered him back onto the bed before slapping his commbadge. “Bentely to transporter room. Medical emergency. Two to beam directly to sickbay.”

It took only a few seconds, though if asked later, Bentley would claim it felt like longer for the transporter beam to claim them once more.

Sitting on the couch in the ready room, Gabrielle Bennett read through the after-action report for Starfleet Command a third time, making a few more edits on this pass. Using the ready room was a necessary evil given its proximity to the bridge, but she refused to sit behind the desk. Her first stint in command had been something of a shit show.

Captain Forrester and Governor Kretuk had been poisoned; one lived while the other didn’t. The captain had been placed in stasis until an antidote could be found. As if that wasn’t enough, Governor Valen had been assassinated, stabbed in the back. The two factions on Vinex became fractured, and for a few tense days, civil war seemed likely. Commander Del’s investigation turned up evidence that Commander Oreth murdered Valen, and while there was no proof that he was involved in the poisoning, Bennett believed he was involved somehow.

The arrival of a delegation from the Romulan Republic had eased tensions as the various factions coalesced around the Republic’s offer. A public vote was held, and their support was overwhelming in favour of accepting their offer. A hastily arranged signing ceremony made everything official.

Through it all, Commander Bentley had been a trusted source of advice, performing his duties flawlessly while worrying about the captain. When not on duty, he sat by Forrester’s bedside until ordered to leave by the medical staff. 

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell had stepped into the role of acting First Officer even better than Bennett had hoped. He’d become more serious, taking his new duties with a seriousness she hadn’t expected. Perhaps that was an indication of how little she really knew of him. He hadn’t changed completely, however, and there were still occasions she wanted to wipe a smirk off his overconfident face.

“Miller to Captain.” Bennett still hadn’t gotten accustomed to being addressed as captain. Every time it happened, she silently cursed the ancient mariner who’d come up with that particular custom. This time was no different.

With a sigh, she set the PADD down beside her. Doctor Miller had managed to develop what he believed was an antidote, but there was no guarantee it would be successful. Now she would find out. “Bennett here.”

“Captain Forrester’s awake.” Doctor Miller reported. 

Relief flooded her body at the Doctor’s words. She closed her eyes and let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. For the first time since Forrester was incapacitated, the weight that had settled on her chest felt a little lighter. “I’m on my way.”

***

Banished from Sickbay, Matthias Bentley returned home and immediately climbed into bed, but as was so often the case since Tom was poisoned, sleep eluded him. More than one person commented on the circles under his eyes growing ever darker. When Doctor Miller announced that Tom was awake, Bentley jumped out of bed and pulled on the first clothes he could put his hand on. That’s why he entered sickbay wearing a pair of grey joggers and a tank top with a faded Starfleet Academy logo.

He found Tom sitting on the edge of the biobed, talking to Commander Bennett. Tom spotted him first. He sat a little straighter, and a gentle smile caused his face to light up. Bennett quickly excused herself, placing a hand on Bentley’s arm and giving it a brief squeeze as she passed him. He continued on, coming to a stop in front of Forrester.

Bentley spoke first. “Hi.” He said softly.

“Hi.” Forrester’s reply was equally soft. He silently studied Bentley’s face for a few seconds before adding, “You look like hell.”

“I’m not the only one,” Bentley shot back, a tender smile pulling at his lips. “How do you feel?”

The two men held each other’s gaze. “Like I’ve been trampled by a horse.” An awkward silence fell between them. “Bennett tells me that you’ve requested a transfer.”

“Yeah,” Forrester confirmed with a nod. “There’s still a steady stream of refugees coming through Starbase Bravo. Given my experience working with Romulan refugees, it seems like a good interim move while I figure out where I go from here.”

Disappointment filled his chest at the look of resignation on Forrester’s features. “That makes sense,” Forrester replied, his eyes falling toward the floor. “You’re experience would make you invaluable over there right now.”

“Yeah.” Bentley agreed sadly. Silently his mind was screaming for Forrester to fight for them, but he knew that was unlikely. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Bentley paused, “I was worried about you.”

“I was always gonna be okay.” Forrester’s confident smile only lasted a few seconds. “It can’t have been easy for you to watch me….”

Bentley shook his head as tears welled in his eyes. The memory of seeing Forrester convulsing still haunted him on those few rare moments of sleep he’d managed to achieve. “It was horrible.” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought you were gonna die.”

“It’s gonna take more than a little poison to kill me.” Any vulnerability Forrester was showing quickly masked again. 

There didn’t seem to be any point in dragging this out any longer. “I should go,” Bentley said, “Let you get some rest.” He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Forrester’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, Tom.” He turned to step away, but Forrester reached out to stop him.

“Don’t go.” Forrester’s pleading tone was something he hadn’t heard before.

As much as Bentley wanted to stay to spend a few more minutes with Tom, he knew there was little point. “I need to get everything packed.” He tried to keep any hint of bitterness at having to pack up his life again out of his voice, but he was confident that he wasn’t entirely successful.

“No,” Forrester shook his head gently, “I mean, don’t transfer off the Challenger.“

Hope flared deep inside Bentley’s chest, but he quickly fought to temper that. “I don’t think there’s any reason for me to stay.” He replied softly.

“You know the reason,” Forrester replied.

That answer wasn’t good enough. Bentley wasn’t about to let Forrester wriggle off the hook like that. “Do I?” Bentley challenged, “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I want you to stay,” Forrester paused and took a deep breath, “with me.”

Bentley was momentarily speechless by Tom’s rare display of candour, but it wasn’t enough. If he was going to remain on the Challenger, Bentley needed more. “I want to, Tom,” he replied softly, “But I can’t if you’re just gonna keep shutting me out.” Bentley raised his hand and tapped it against Tom’s temple. “I need you to start sharing what’s happening up here.”

“I know.” Forrester looked down at the floor. “I can’t…dunno if I’ll able to do that.”

Bentley smiled and reached out, taking one of Forrester’s hands in his own. “If I’m going to stay, I need you to try.” Forrester looked up to meet his gaze. “I’m not expecting miracles, Tom.” Bentley could see his own hope reflected in Forrester’s hazel eyes. “It’s something we can work on together.”

“I’ll try.” Forrester replied, “I promise.” 

The vulnerability in Forrester’s eyes was something that Bentley had rarely seen, and he vowed at that moment that if he got to see more of it, he wouldn’t take it for granted. “Looks like I’m staying then.”

Forrester’s face lit up with a wide smile. They held each other’s gaze as they slowly leaned in. The anticipation built, and Bentley could feel Forrester’s breath on his skin. They closed their eyes simultaneously. The sound of someone clearing their throat broke through and caused Bentley to jump back. He looked to find the source of the noise; Doctor Miller standing nearby with a grin.

“Your timing is impeccable, Doctor,” Forrester grumbled. “When can I get out of here?”

Miller stepped closer. “I’m happy with your recent scans, so you’re good to go.” He replied. “I want you to take the next few days to rest and relax, and then I’ll place you on restricted duty for a week.”

“Is restricted duty really necessary?” Forrester asked, prompting Bentley to gently squeeze his arm.

Doctor Miller nodded. “Your body’s been through an ordeal and needs time to heal. I don’t want you pushing yourself before you’re ready.”

“Fine.” Forrester relented with a heavy sigh, drawing an amused smile from Bentley.

Bentley gave Forrester’s arm another squeeze. “C’mon, sailor, let’s get you home.”

***

“Crossing back into Federation space.” Lieutenant da Costa announced from the helm.

From behind him, Commander Bennett spoke up. “Very well, Lieutenant.” She pushed herself out of her chair. “Join me in the ready room, Mister da Costa. You too, Commander Mitchell.” 

The young flight controller’s head snapped to see the captain and her acting first officer striding toward the ready room. He quickly secured his console and pushed it away from himself, creating the space to slide out of his chair and follow them. No one spoke until the doors closed firmly behind him.

“I’m not impressed, Mister da Costa.” Those three words from the captain struck fear into da Costa. He could feel the panic quickly rising up inside him. He was sure that Mitchell had been happy with his job performance; his latest fit rep bore that out. As much as he wracked his brain, he couldn’t think why the captain would be unhappy with him. “Your uniform isn’t up to standards. Wouldn’t you agree, Commander?”

Da Costa watched as Mitchell nodded solemnly. “Very disappointing, captain.”

He looked down but couldn’t see what they were talking about. His commbadge was securely fastened and straight; he reached and ran a finger over each of his pips. They were both still there. He saw Mitchell hand the captain something from behind his back. It was a small, nondescript black box. Bennett opened it and produced a single silver pip.

“Sorry, Lieutenant. It was his idea.” She told him with a lopsided smile as she snapped the box shut and tossed it back in Mitchell’s direction. “Attention to orders.”

Snapping to attention, the panic quickly drained away from da Costa. “Your performance since coming aboard the Challenger has been exemplary,” Bennett told him, “and it is with a deep sense of pride that I hereby promote you to the rank of Lieutenant with all the associated rights and privileges.” She stepped back and extended a hand, her warm smile lighting her features. “Congratulations, Rafael.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Da Costa managed to choke out, unable to keep the tears from falling as he shook her hand. Mitchell quickly stepped forward and offered his own handshake along with a few words of congratulations.

He quickly wiped his eyes before resuming his stance. Bennett gave him a single nod. “Resume your post, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, ma’am.” He turned on his heel and left the ready room. A few people looked up from their posts, smiling as they spotted the second silver pip on his collar.