“King’s Gambit” is one of my very first stories. I’d actually debated a rewrite, but a close friend expressed his opinion on my idea of an extensive editorial dredge of my earlier material thus: “Don’t do it; it allows people to see your evolution as a writer.”

Well… against my desires, if not my better judgment, “KG” stays as is.

If you're curious in reference to Alex's Argus timeline, this story takes place after "Proving Grounds," but before "UFO."

Without further ado, here's Kate Sheridan, and....

"King's Gambit"

By Joseph Manno

"Computer… play back that last entry."

"Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 52265.6:

"Despite the success of our recent mission and the positive indications I gave in my debriefing with Admiral Pierce, the obvious friction between Commanders Rudman and Sheridan has me extremely concerned. While neither has re-ignited the conflict I suppressed during their recent dressing down, it's obvious that the strain between them is beginning to affect their respective performances.

"Both are, of course, capable, and I'm convinced Commander Rudman will prove himself a valuable addition to my crew, given time.

"It's Kate who has me truly worried—both for her personally, and for the smooth operation of the Argus. I'm beginning to wonder if it's really reasonable of me—or Starfleet—to demand that this impressive young officer accept what is obviously a demotion and a clear indication that she is considered an unacceptable choice for a job she once believed was definitely hers.

"Certainly my own feelings are not helping matters. While I have nothing against Rudman personally—I've actually grown rather fond of him in the few weeks he's been aboard, supervising our repairs—I would very much have preferred elevating Kate to the post of first officer permanently.

As it is, I've been forced to adopt a very different course of action... the consequences of this at which I can only guess.”

Even as he considered additional revisions, the door chime sounded.

"Come in."

Was there something lacking in that invitation? Obviously I'm even less eager to handle this than I thought, Jonozia Lex mused.

The object of his concern—Lieutenant Commander Katherine Sheridan—entered warily and presented herself before her captain's desk, taking refuge both in a parade-worthy stance and the hazy stare all Academy plebes mastered within their first week of classes. He recognized it; it was the one that was just focused enough to convey awareness, but not sufficient to attract attention.

"You wanted to speak with me, sir?"

Lex examined her for a moment, thinking, She's obviously got an instinct there's a problem, then offered, "Stand at ease, Commander."

She relaxed, minutely, and looked like she was waiting for a hammer to fall.     

It didn't take long for him to make her feel like an anvil—or, more aptly, a nail.

"I'll get right to the point. It's not working out between you and Commander Rudman, is it?"

Sheridan set her jaw, and began determinedly, "Captain, I assure you, I've done nothing to provoke him..."

Lex's raised hand stopped her just before she could have gotten up a full head of steam.

"I'm well aware of that. Would it be your judgment that the reverse is true?"

Sheridan considered that for a moment, and finally replied, hesitantly, "Yes, sir. I don't feel he's... denigrated me in any way."

The captain brutally suppressed a smile. You don't give an inch, do you, Kate?

"Do you feel he's actively cultivated a functional working relationship with you?"

She pounced on that. "No, sir. As a matter of fact, I don't believe he's spoken ten words to me in the last week."

She's so wound up she has no idea where I'm going with this, he thought. Oh, boy ...

"How about you, Commander? Have you gone out of your way to try and smooth things out? Have you made the effort to put aside your personal feelings and develop some kind of rapport with him?"

He watched the roil of emotions play across her face, a veritable panoply of feeling. Before she could respond, he continued.

"You see, Commander, he outranks you. It's your job, your responsibility, to adapt yourself to his style and needs, whether or not you particularly like the idea… or the man himself. You didn't do that; instead, you've challenged him at every turn."

"Sir, I ju–…" she hesitated. He'd never known her not to rally quickly to her own defense, and this was no exception. In some ways, it made teaching her anything that much harder.

"We're getting our jobs done, Captain. Have you had cause to complain about my performance?"

Now Lex was annoyed. However, this was not the time for him to show irritation. In this case, he believed, it would be counterproductive.

"Complain?" he began. "No. You've performed your duties with quiet efficiency."

Lex watched as she sighed with relief. You're not getting off so easily, Kate.

"However, this is a Federation starship," he continued pointedly. "Not only that, it's a Sovereign-class. With all due respect to Admiral Pierce… he can wax poetic about the Liberator all he wants. He can also keep that... starship on steroids; ships like the Enterprise-E, the Sovereign, and the Argus represent the cream of the fleet, both in technology and personnel.

"I expect a lot more than quiet efficiency. I require nothing less than one of the best tactical officers in the fleet, operating smoothly in tandem with her support staff, and her superiors—all of them.     

"You haven't given that to me—not since Commander Rudman came aboard."     

Sheridan nodded in acknowledgment of his points. "I understand, sir. I'll do better from this point."     

Lex stood. Now for the hard part.

He slowly shook his head; as he made his next announcement, Kate's expression changed from one of determination to dismay.     

"No, Commander. We're at war. I can't wait for you to figure out whether you can get the job done with Commander Rudman in place as executive officer. I have to act in the best interests of my ship now.     

"As of this moment, you've been transferred off the Argus."     

Sheridan was stunned into silence. For a moment, Lex thought she might burst into tears. He put down any feeling of sympathy for her he might have, and pressed ruthlessly on before she could speak.     

"Your orders have already been cut; your gear and personal effects will follow as becomes convenient for the quartermaster corps to forward them. I want you off the Argus and aboard your new posting in five minutes.     

"Report to transporter room three immediately.     

"Dismissed."

After a few seconds in which he watched her slowly master the impotent fury he knew was burning inside her, she turned on her heel in a perfectly executed about face and left the ready room.     

He considered the final look they'd shared, and the determination he'd seen in her eyes—the steely glint that he was certain declared, "I am going to show you this is a mistake… and make you sorry you did it."     

He sat down heavily, put his head in his hands, and exhaled slowly.     

I hope you prove me right, Kate… and I'm already sorry.

***

Evidently she wasn't even important enough for Lex to notify the bridge crew of her transfer: When she exited the ready room, all of them were laboring busily at their assigned tasks, with no indication that they were attempting to avoid her gaze.     

It was obvious to her; they simply didn't know.     

As she approached the turbolift, Commander Rudman emerged. Kate stopped short, her eyes narrowing slightly; she wanted to know if he'd had anything to do with this sudden, devastating decision. With a tangible effort, she avoided curling her hands into fists.     

He nodded politely, and held up a hand, indicating that she should stop.     

"Commander," he greeted her crisply, with not a hint of sarcasm she could detect. "I'll need those final algorithms you've been working on by the end of the week, if you believe you'll be done by then..." He trailed off, startled, as she brushed past him, and entered the lift.     

The last words she was certain she'd ever speak to Michael Rudman were, "Do them yourself. They won't be as good as mine, granted, but… I don't work for you anymore."     

Sara Parker's genetically enhanced hearing, which rivaled that of a Vulcan, caught the exchange between her two superiors; and she turned in shock.     

Someone on the bridge had finally realized that a very significant event was unfolding. Counselor Cassaria, whose Betazoid senses would have detected Sheridan's distress immediately, was chairing a conference for NCOs on the Starbase, and so missed her grand departure.     

Rudman looked nonplused; the statement was so grossly insubordinate he was having trouble processing it. By the time he opened his mouth to reply... by the time Sara rose to address her...     

Kate Sheridan was gone.     

"Transporter room three."     

The short ride was silent and uneventful—unless one were a telepath.     

Either he's a better actor than I would ever have imagined, or he didn't know a thing about it, she groused. Of course, that doesn't mean he hadn't previously gone to Lex and complained about me yet again... just that he didn't know how the captain would react...

Stop it, Kate! she told herself firmly. The fact remains that if you'd just handled yourself with more professionalism, you wouldn't be losing the greatest opportunity of your career.

The lift deposited her near her destination, and she spent the short intervening walk attempting to regain some measure of composure.     

She'd managed to graft a stone-like expression to her face as she entered and, wordlessly, took her place on the pad.     

Chief Nagelson gave her a friendly smile.     

"Good luck, Commander."    

 Unless she was being sarcastic—and, somehow, Sheridan doubted it—it was obvious that no one but Lex knew Kate wasn't coming back.     

She didn't trust herself to say anything but, "Thanks.

"Energize."

The freckled face of the chief faded out, and was almost immediately replaced by a porcine one; a Tellarite now stood precisely where, from her perspective, Betsy Nagelson had been a moment before. The incongruity momentarily froze her.     

If not for this difference, Kate would never have known she'd transported anywhere.     

I've gone from one Sovereign-class starship to another, she thought. Is this the Enterprise? The Challenger... ? There aren't many, after all...

The Tellarite cleared his throat.     

Sheridan practically jumped. Finally, though, she stepped off the platform, and addressed herself to the husky little figure.     

"Permission to come aboard?"

He snorted politely, and replied, "Granted, Commander. Report to a briefing in the observation lounge immediately. They're waiting for you." The Tellarite's unwavering stare—for him, necessary because of his weak vision—was nonetheless disconcerting when one was already reeling.     

"Thank you, Master Chief."     

She now found herself dazedly retracing the steps she'd just taken—aboard a different ship.     

"Bridge."

OK, Kate...you're on your way to a meeting with a roomful of strangers, concerning a subject about which you currently know nothing… aboard a vessel you were assigned to about six minutes ago.     

Well, let's get one problem out of the way.

"Computer, what ship is this?"     

"You are aboard the Sovereign-class USS Liberty, NCC-1776."

Just then, the turbolift doors opened onto the bridge.     

She took it in for a second; there were differences, to be sure—if anything, Liberty seemed even more militaristic than other Sovereign-class vessels—but it was much the same as the starship she'd just left.     

Only this bridge was quiet, and deserted. Most of her systems were on standby, or even off-line.     

Confused, she glanced across to the observation lounge door. The lights at its side were red; indicating that there was, indeed, a briefing in progress.     

On an impulse, Kate crossed the room using a route that allowed her to glance at the dedication plaque.     

She smiled. Of course.

"God grants liberty to those who love it, and are always ready to guard and defend it."

– Daniel Webster

Without further delay, she straightened, steeled herself… and strode boldly into the observation lounge.

The seated officers, as one, fell silent when she entered.

She felt, momentarily, like a six-year-old child again, walking sleepily in on one of her mother's dinner parties aboard Voyager. Each time, the adults had all stopped talking immediately, and smiled; but she'd gotten to hear nothing interesting before she was given a small sweet and hustled back off to bed, usually by a smiling Neelix. On this occasion, though, there was no reprieve in sight. She would get to hear all the important stuff.

For once, she found herself almost wishing for Neelix.

The man at the head of the table she knew, if only by reputation.

So did everyone else in the Federation: Luciano Cicero Mantovanni.

"Commander Sheridan." He motioned for her to take the lone remaining chair, just to his right. She circled around and carefully seated herself, conscious that—of course—all eyes were upon her.

There was something almost surreal about how this was unfolding. Twenty minutes ago, she'd been listening to music in her quarters aboard the Argus. Now she was sitting in a briefing with one of the most talked-about captains in Federation history this side of James Kirk, and his equally... notable crew.     

"Allow me to present the senior staff," he continued.     

"Chief of operations—though she prefers the old title 'science officer'—Lieutenant Commander Sera MacLeod."

The dark-haired woman was of Vulcan descent, but offered Kate a slight smile to go with the curious upsweep of her left brow.     

That's right, Sheridan thought. She's half-human, like her cousin, Spock… and if the stories about her are true, has an intellect to match—or even surpass—his.

"Our conn officer, Ensign Parihn."

Orions were extremely rare in Starfleet; Sheridan knew of only four currently serving. While she certainly possessed the striking beauty of her people, Parihn seemed almost subdued, as if attempting to play down her origin. Her greeting was even more understated than the Vulcan Sera's had been: She gave the merest inclination of her head.     

"Ship's counselor, Lieutenant Hatshepsut."

At last, an enthusiastic response to Mantovanni 's introduction. Hatshepsut leaned forward, and purred loudly, "I am truly pleased to make your acquaintance, Commander." The auburn-furred Felisian extended a sleek arm, claws carefully retracted, and Sheridan took it gently. Felisians were known to retain the feline aversion to having their paws handled, so this was indeed a friendly gesture.     

Then again, she is a ship's counselor , Sheridan thought.     

"Chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Irriantia."

Finally Kate was able to give the most visually interesting of the assembled officers her full attention. Irriantia was a Terran dolphin; he was also one of the first to serve Starfleet in a capacity other than marine biology or navigation, both of which allowed them to remain in a liquid environment regularly.     

Irriantia had broken the mold, choosing warp theory as his field; thus, he was outfitted with an anti-grav wet suit, and manipulated his rather unique set of engineering tools with the precision only a born telekinetic—all dolphins were psionically gifted to some extent—could.     

Rather than a verbal greeting… I doubt you're fully prepared for one of mine, the "tone" of his thought seemed quietly amused, I hope this will suffice.

Telepathic, as well.

Sheridan grinned. His inherent joviality was obvious, and infectious. She remembered from her class in comparative bio-sociology, though, that humans almost always assumed dolphins were in a good humor. It was hard to fight the hard-wired instinct that told them their natural expression was a smile.     

"Yes, Commander, it's just fine."     

Mantovanni interrupted their exchange. "If you don't mind, Irriantia," he prodded, with the slightest of smiles; the dolphin responded by bobbing his head, to the amusement of all.     

"Our chief of security and tactical officer, Lieutenant Sito Jaxa."

The tiny Bajoran woman smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, sir."

Something stirred in Sheridan's memory: She recalled watching an old news holo-vid about an accident and cover-up at Starfleet Academy involving the cadets of Nova Squadron. Sito Jaxa, if she was remembering correctly, had been intimately involved in that. There had been a tremendous amount of resentment at the fact that any of them had been permitted to remain in the commissioning program at all. Some cynics still insisted that it had been the influence of "Starfleet's darling," Jean-Luc Picard, on behalf of Jack Crusher's kid, Wesley, that had saved everyone but the ringleader, whose name she couldn't quite recall—Lucerne, or something.

I also thought I remembered hearing something about her being lost in the line of duty. Evidently not. "Lieutenant," she answered neutrally.     

"Finally," Mantovanni concluded, "our CMO, Dr. Shiro Matsuoka."     

He too, nodded in greeting. He was a stately Japanese man, and, surprisingly, held the rank of captain, according to his insignia.     

Mantovanni answered her unspoken question. "The doctor is with us for a few months more, Commander—until the hospital ship Averroes is completed and commissioned."     

Abruptly, the tone of the meeting changed.     

"Well, let's get to it," the captain announced. "Commander Sheridan, I understand you've had occasion to serve aboard the USS Prometheus, and that you're quite familiar with her systems?"     

Again, Kate was caught flat-footed. Gamely, she rallied in response.     

"Er... yes, sir. I led the away team that assisted in recapturing her from the Romulans, and commanded the return journey to Starbase 88."     

"Well, then, your transfer is serendipitous," observed MacLeod. The Vulcan then turned to address Mantovanni. "The commander should prove invaluable in our current... situation."     

Sheridan finally asked, "Situation?"     

"Typical Vulcan understatement," input Irriantia, bubbling merrily.     

"As opposed to typical Delphine hyperbole," MacLeod answered easily, and again that sly smile peeked out. There were a few chuckles around the table, and Sito rose from her chair to activate the view-screen.     

"We'll let you decide for yourself, Commander Sheridan."     

The image cut in with a view of Starbase 37. It looked deceptively serene, considering the fact that even such a traditionally quiet post had been attacked no less than twice by Dominion/Cardassian ships in the last year.     

Sito declared, "A week ago, the Prometheus was transferred temporarily for extremely exacting adjustments to her three-tiered nacelle configuration. They simply can't fix her at Starbase 88; there's just been too much damage to too many necessary components for a lot of cutting-edge repair work to be done here anymore.     

"Four full-scale assaults and continuing logistics problems have taken their toll."     

Sheridan nodded. As she watched, the sleek new attack cruiser suddenly powered up and began moving away from her berth. Considering the reaction of the two other starships orbiting the base—both began moving towards her almost immediately—Kate was willing to speculate.     

"I take it the Prometheus isn't going out on authorized maneuvers," she muttered.    

 Mantovanni smiled wolfishly.     

Sheridan didn't even need to watch the next few moments of playback, but she did so anyway. The experimental vessel's powerful shields ignored the half-hearted phaser fire from the starbase and the two Miranda-class destroyer escorts; obviously someone—a number of someones, Kate amended—didn't want to be responsible for damaging or destroying one of the Federation's most advanced prototypes. Prometheus, in swift succession: Left the base's effective weapons range; overwhelmed the screens of her two pursuers with a crippling spread of photon torpedoes; and warped away with nary a scratch, leaving behind a base in chaos and a pair of game old starships reeling and disabled.     

"As you may have guessed, the Liberty's has been ordered to pursue the Prometheus and take whatever action is necessary to... reacquire her for the Federation."     

With that declaration hanging in the air, Sito deactivated the viewscreen and again took her seat.     

It seemed to Sheridan as if, seconds later, almost every pair of eyes turned expectantly to her.     

One pair, though, was not expectant. It was... appraising.     

All right, then, she thought determinedly. Let's be blunt.

"If you're hoping for some sort of miraculous attack plan, there isn't one." A few of the officers exchanged glances, but no one offered a counter, so she continued. "The Prometheus is the fastest ship in the fleet. She can even outrun the Liberator. While, individually, each of her sections is heavily armed but no real match for the Liberty, the reverse is true once she's in multi-vector assault mode. Then it is we who will be outgunned as well as outnumbered. This is a job for, at the very least, two Sovereign-class starships… or a small task force. Quite frankly, I'm at a loss as to how we can reasonably achieve our objective.     

"I'm sorry, but that's my evaluation, sir."     

Sheridan wasn't certain what she'd expected Mantovanni to say in response to her perspective, but...     

...nothing at all wouldn't have even made her list.

He nodded in acknowledgment of her analysis… and then addressed his other officers.     

"Well, now that the yard superintendent has, at long last, declared Liberty to be completely repaired, what better to do than immediately embark on a mission more than likely to end with her back in dry-dock." At his comment, there was a slew of suppressed smiles, and an open squeal of amusement, quickly cut off, from Irriantia.     

"Sera, the Argus Array has evidently spotted the Prometheus and is tracking her movements. Please monitor incoming data and make me aware of any significant change in her speed, heading… or anything else that 'intrigues' you."     

"Understood, sir," she replied easily.     

"Recall all personnel from Starbase 88, and have us ready for departure within one hour. Report operational readiness to our new X-O."

So there it was: She was the Liberty's first officer.     

"Stations. Commander, please stay."     

As the other officers filed out, Sheridan briefly began to play back her conversation with Lex, searching for nuances that had evidently escaped her the first time around.     

This reverie suddenly ceased the moment Kate realized she was alone in a room with Luciano Mantovanni.     

And that the "appraising gaze" was back.     

"So," the captain inquired, "what exactly occurred aboard the Argus that made so agreeable a fellow as Jonozia Lex positively desperate to get you off his ship?"     

From there, the conversation only got worse.

"Bridge to Captain Mantovanni."

He tapped the comm panel on his desk.     

"Go ahead, Sito."     

"Sir, incoming transmission from the USS Liberator. Admiral Pierce wishes to speak with you."

Oh, joy, Mantovanni thought.     

"Put it through in here."     

He was pleasantly surprised, though; the image that appeared on the screen was that of Sa'lanna, the Liberator's commanding officer. Was it his imagination, or did those forbidding Vulcanoid features soften momentarily when she first saw him?     

"Captain," she intoned softly. "It is agreeable to see you again."

Formal language, but intimate tone and implications. How like Sa'lanna to be passionate and emotionless simultaneously. Only she could manage it, he thought.     

"Captain," Mantovanni responded in kind. "Always a pleasure." If anyone on her bridge chose to read into that, let them.     

"I'll give you the Admiral, now. He's in his quarters, awaiting your response."

Without further delay, she transferred the link, and her lovely image was replaced by that of her father—who, while a strongly attractive man, didn't really command Mantovanni's aesthetic appreciation in the way his former first officer did.     

"Captain, I understand you're approaching the Prometheus' position?"

"Yes, sir. If she continues using her current evasion pattern, we'll overtake her in just under two days at Warp 8.75. Your stratagem—keeping knowledge of the Argus Array's recent repairs restricted—seems to have paid off handsomely. She's completely unaware that anyone's tracking her; even so, Ensign Parihn has examined the maneuvers her helmsman's using. She tells me they're quite intricate, and impressive.     

"If not for the Array, she'd probably have escaped the entire fleet."     

Pierce frowned at the thought. Then he leaned forward.     

"I can't stress how important this is to the Federation, Captain. We have to have that ship back—intact. I'm sorry I've had to put you in such a position."

"No, you're not," Mantovanni answered immediately.     

"I beg your pardon, Captain?" Pierce's voice seemed coated with molten steel.     

"Don't beg, Admiral. It ill becomes such a stately fellow. This is the perfect scenario: Either we return the Prometheus to you, and the status quo is restored; or we fail, and the Liberty's maddening string of unlikely successes is broken, and you get to express your disappointment in my 'inability to get the job done.'     

"Don't get me wrong, sir. I certainly don't think you consciously planned this; but you won't shed any tears either way, now will you?"     

Pierce took the high road.     

"Keep me informed," he grated. "And… best of luck to you, Captain."

Great men, Mantovanni thought. Great virtues, and great flaws. And by anyone's definition, Alexander Pierce is a great man.

"Thank you, sir," he replied, as sincere now as he had been a moment before. "I know you mean that." Now, he left unsaid.     

Pierce nodded, and broke the connection.

***

Kate stood just behind Sito Jaxa, and continued familiarizing herself with the young Bajoran's rather unique configuration for the tactical station. She'd done it twice already, and would no doubt repeat the procedure at least three times more in the next few hours: Sheridan didn't want to be in a combat situation, fumbling around in a vain attempt to fire phasers because she simply didn't know where the damned button was.     

Somehow, she didn't imagine, "Stand by, sir," would go over very well with Luciano Mantovanni.     

When he'd asked her what had happened aboard the Argus, she'd felt like she must have considered ten different responses in the next few seconds.     

Finally, she'd settled on a carefully phrased, "I was... remiss in my responsibilities, sir."     

The captain had considered her answer for a moment, and then replied, rather matter-of-factly, "I'm not in the habit of asking a question twice, Commander."     

Kate had stammered, "S–sir?"     

He'd stood, and walked over to stand at the window.     

"I didn't ask you what Jonozia Lex thought happened. I asked you what you thought happened. We'll discuss this again when you're feeling a little more candid. Dismissed."

And that had been that.     

If the rest of the crew was any indication, nothing that'd happened aboard Argus had crossed over to Liberty: Her indoctrination briefing with Hatshepsut; the private dinner held with the senior staff in the captain's dining room; her own scheduled interviews and meetings; all had gone well, without even a hint of curiosity about the seemingly sudden transfer. She'd learned that Liberty's previous exec, the infamous Tzenkethi Bagheer, had been awarded his own ship; and that as far as this crew was concerned, she had just been the best qualified to take his place.     

"Is there something wrong, Commander?"     

Suddenly, she was back in the here and now.     

"No, Lieutenant Sito. Carry on."     

"Yes, ma'am."

"Commander Sheridan, a moment of your time."     

Kate crossed the bridge to where the Vulcan, Sera, was collating data from the Argus Array, as per Mantovanni's previous instructions.     

"The Prometheus seems to have had a change in both speed and heading."     

She glanced down at the figures; it took her a moment to interpret the implications of the raw data, but when she'd done so, she tapped her comm badge immediately.     

"Sheridan to Mantovanni."

"Go ahead," came his prompt reply.     

"I think you might find this... 'intriguing,' sir." She smiled at Sera—who returned it with that still surprising enthusiasm.     

A few seconds later, the captain emerged.     

"It seems as if our quarry has dropped out of warp and entered the Beta Riandra star system," Sera informed him.     

"Should that name be familiar to me?" he asked.     

"It was the subject of a general informatory advisory sent to the operations and tactical officers of all Starfleet and allied vessels two years ago," Sheridan explained. "In it, the Astrophysics Board of Starfleet Sciences issued a warning that it was 'inevitable' Beta Riandra would become a supernova, and that all ships were to avoid the area if possible."     

"Two years ago?" Mantovanni repeated.     

MacLeod and Sheridan exchanged glances.     

"Obviously 'inevitable' has... varying connotations in different circles," Sera observed wryly.     

Mantovanni smiled slightly, both at the Vulcan's dry wit and the gradually devolving situation.     

"Terrific," he chuckled sarcastically, and shook his head.     

"Ensign Parihn, set course for Beta Riandra and execute at Warp 9.3."     

Sheridan frowned.     

"Sir," she inquired, "since this... recovery operation is so crucial to the Federation, shouldn't we proceed at maximum warp?"     

Mantovanni took the center seat, and replied, after a moment, "I'll answer your question with one of my own, Commander: Would you rather strain our engines proceeding to a probable combat situation, or maintain them at optimal efficiency for use in that combat situation?"     

Kate considered that as she too, assumed her place.     

The captain had a point: Since the Prometheus was no longer moving, there really was no reason to rush headlong at whatever its "crew" had planned for them.     

"I understand, sir." She called up a particular report on her console, and then addressed him again.     

"I wanted to speak with you about the identity and motivations of those who've taken the Prometheus. Starbase 37 reports all personnel accounted for, including those of the two starships currently undergoing repairs.     

"Every visitor who was in attendance at the base two days ago is still there. The staff in the strategic operations center is—and I quote—'at a complete loss' as to who could have taken the ship, and they advise extreme caution in approaching her. She could be in the possession of aliens whose physical abilities are far superior to our own."     

Mantovanni watched the stars rush past his ship, as she carried them towards a confrontation with a foe who seemed to have all the cards. For almost a minute, he didn't answer, as if pondering the near infinite possibilities ahead—most of them, from his expression, unpleasant.     

Then he surprised them all.     

"I know exactly who took the Prometheus." He then fixed Sheridan with that expression she was beginning to know… and dread.     

"And if you think about it, Commander—so do you."

***

The chime to Luciano Mantovanni's quarters sounded twice in swift succession.     

He glanced up, sighing, from his “work”: He was writing an analysis of Tal's final victory over the stately Mikhail Botvinnik during their first world championship match in 1960.     

Grudgingly, he responded, "Come in."     

The door slid open, and there framed in the brighter light of the corridor stood Kate Sheridan.     

Mantovanni smiled inwardly. Another person who obviously doesn't believe too strongly in the concept of "civilian clothes." Here it was, 0200 hours—the middle of the night for both of them—and each was still in uniform.     

His eyes went back to the chessboard.

"Have a seat, Commander."     

As she took her place across the table, Kate's eyes, too, wandered over the game.     

"Do you play in tournaments?" Her interest seemed genuine.

Despite his seeming distraction, he answered promptly.     

"Not for… years." His voice held real regret. "It's rare to have such an opportunity. Usually my schedule prevents it, unless of course it's play-by-correspondence."     

She continued to avoid the subject that had brought her here.     

"How about a game?" was her next foray.

Immediately, Mantovanni began to set up the pieces, courteously offering her White with the board's disposition. She quietly demurred with a wave; instead, she palmed a pair of pawns, one in each hand, and with the gesture invited the captain to select in the time-honored way.     

He unhesitatingly choose right… and White.     

Well, I tried to defer. He promptly pushed his pawn to king four, and then leaned back to stretch.     

"I can't imagine you were suddenly inspired to come here in the middle of the night simply to play chess with me, Commander, exhilarating though the prospect might be. What can I do for you?"     

"I'm feeling more 'candid,' sir," she announced quietly, and matched him with the same move. Her hand had barely left the piece when he pushed his bishop pawn up to stand with its fellow.     

The King's Gambit. It was rarely used today by any player who was of significant skill, since its intricacies and not-so-subtle pitfalls had been supposedly examined exhaustively centuries ago. There was no real need to take the pawn; in fact, Black could find her way to an excellent game by refusing it.     

Refusing it, though, said something about someone, as well.     

"So," he invited, "tell me about the Argus."     

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Sheridan stated boldly.     

She then played pawn captures pawn.     

Like clockwork, he thought.     

"By all means, Commander," he replied, and settled down to watch her game… and hear her story.

Kate Sheridan was pouring her heart into her chess, and pouring her soul out to her captain.     

She didn't seem to be making an impression in either case, and it was starting to wear on her.     

She considered herself an extremely strong player, even though the traditional game wasn’t something she played very often. Kate had been Voyager's 3-D chess champion since she was 15 years old—defeating her mother consistently and Tuvok more often than not—and had planned on showing Mantovanni that his brash choice of opening would cost him dearly.

It hadn't been working out that way.     

Evidently there were nuances to the old school King's Gambit she'd never studied—either that or the captain had invented some new line of play. He was down a piece and two pawns, yet she sensed that the material advantage was insufficient to deflect the inevitable attack bearing down on her.     

"So Lex had said you were going to be his first officer?" Mantovanni queried. He slipped a bishop down onto her second rank, sacrificing the piece… but, in so doing, shattering what was left of the pawn structure protecting her king.     

"No. But he sure as hell implied it." She was looking at the position with her head in her hands; grappling with the suddenly obvious avenues of attack that had appeared, and desperately looking for a substantive defense.     

The captain never looked up from the game, as he positioned the white queen in what looked to Sheridan like a mere show of force.     

"Check. And Rudman? He's a difficult man?"     

"Not precisely. He's found it necessary to emphasize our difference in rank more than once, though. You know, saying, 'Lieutenant Commander' when speaking to me. That sort of thing." She slid her king's rook over a space, and blocked the queen's attack.     

"He's a good officer." Mantovanni stated it as a fact.    

“Sheridan nodded. "Yeah. He's sharp."    

"And that, of course, precludes Lex acting unilaterally to give you the spot. In fact, you hadn't seen anything to indicate he’d even considered it. Check." He took the rook, sacrificing his queen.     

She didn't see why he'd...      

Oh, sh–... she thought.     

He had a mate in four. There was no reason to go on with it.     

He'd beaten her like an adult teaching a child the game.     

It was infuriating...     

He was saying, "–nd, of course, the crew's had the bad form to actually like him, too. And after he took what was rightfully yours. The bastards..."     

"I didn't say that!" she snapped, her temper starting to slip past her facade of restraint. "I just... "

"Man, if you’re as bad an X-O as you are a chess player, no wonder Lex shipped you out."     

"GO TO HELL!" she exploded. With a furious pass of her arm, she swept the pieces across the table, and lurched to her feet.     

"I'm a good officer! It wasn't fair! That was my job he took! That was my job he gave away!!" She half-whirled around, but there was nothing at which to strike.     

Then, she started to sob.     

Mantovanni let her cry for a few moments. He didn't goad her again, nor did he offer any sympathy. He simply let her be.

After a few moments, he observed, "Interesting way to resign.     

"And that's, 'Go to hell, sir.'"     

Through her tears, she burst into surprised laughter, and peeked at him. He raised an eyebrow in that very Vulcan-like maneuver, and she laughed even harder.     

"Go get some sleep, Commander. We'll continue our little match after we've dealt with the Prometheus."     

"Yes, sir."

As she turned to the door, she looked back curiously.     

"What's your rating with the Galactic Chess Federation?"     

He sighed quietly, and, for just a moment, wore the look of a man suddenly caught when he was certain he'd get away with something.     

"Well, it’s… 2775," he admitted.     

Sheridan blanched.     

"You're an Interstellar Grandmaster?!" she snapped, almost indignantly.     

He shrugged his shoulders slightly.     

"You're the one who wanted to talk... and to play.     

"Goodnight, Commander."

***

"Approaching the Beta Riandra star system."

Mantovanni looked to his X-O, indicating with his eyes that he would, for now, follow her lead.     

Though a bit startled, Sheridan recovered quickly. She was becoming used to the rather mercurial changes in perspective, and a sensation that was roughly analogous to operating a trapeze without a net.     

Oh, well, she thought. Look great or go splat, Kate.

"Slow to impulse, Ensign Parihn. Commander MacLeod, what is the status of the Prometheus?"     

The Vulcan studied her readouts. "Without question, she has been aware of our approach for some time. However, she seems relatively inactive; her defense systems are off-line, and her power emanations are minimal."     

"Lieutenant Sito, your analysis."     

The young Bajoran answered promptly. "No other vessels in the area that I can detect, Commander. However, that doesn't preclude the presence of cloaked ships. There are still rumors about the technology the Jem'Hadar might have captured from the Romulans."     

Sheridan nodded firmly. "Life signs?"

"Scanning," MacLeod answered. A moment later she glanced back.     

"None that I can determine."

Well, she's not flying herself, Kate thought. The concept rattled around in her mind for a moment, unsettling her.     

Or was she?

Suddenly, she found herself considering a possibility that until that moment had escaped her.     

My God. In a way, she is flying herself.

Her expression must have changed, because the captain's had, as well. Not for the first time in the last few days she wondered how easily it was for him to observe her thought processes, whether he was almost literally 'watchin' th' gears grind,' as she'd heard Admiral Scott once say.     

"Hail the Prometheus," she ordered. The ring of authority in her voice that had been missing for a time had suddenly returned, with a vengeance.     

Sito hastened to comply. "Channel open, Commander."     

"This is the Federation starship Liberty. You are hereby instructed: heave to and prepare to be boarded."     

There was no answer.     

Kate's voice grew hard. "I require face-to-face communication...     

"...Doctor."

The screen changed, and there he was—a slender, bookish blond with an expression that could only be termed... wild-eyed.     

"The EMH?" Sito gasped, astonished.     

"The EMH," Sheridan echoed; there was only a trace of a vindicated smile on her face.     

A few days ago Kate would have stated for the record that the captain was expressionless. She saw the minute difference now, though; he was quite pleased that she, too, had found this particular answer.     

Now what the hell do we do about it?     

"The Federation requires an explanation of your actions, Doctor." Crazily, her mind added, And getting the ship back would be nice, too...

"Weapons range in 30 seconds," whispered Sito.     

"I no longer acknowledge the authority of the Federation to require anything from me." Despite the fact that it was an algorithmic intellect, the EMH—or, more properly, EMH2—possessed the arrogance that had quickly become a trademark of their use. If anything, most of its detractors had noted, it was even more of an impertinent jerk than the original had been.     

"All stop," ordered Mantovanni.     

"Answering all stop," confirmed Parihn.     

The holographic doctor looked a little startled at the development, but regained his veneer of smug assurance quickly.     

"I'll warn you, Captain, I have fully availed myself of the applicable texts contained within the ship's database. I am now..." and he paused for emphasis, almost striking a pose, "...a strategic genius."

"Oh, brother. I can see why they only activate him for emergencies," Parihn muttered.     

"Even your tactical skills," he continued, "will be unable to wrest control of this vessel from me."

Sheridan found herself wishing for either Vulcan blood or a Vulcan upbringing, as the EMH rambled on for another minute about its formidability. Mantovanni seemed not to react at all, while Sera's eyebrow was seen to begin a positively Olympian ascent towards her hairline.     

"Mute," the captain ordered, and Sito immediately complied; the clever young officer scrambled the visual pickup as well, so that no lip-reading could be attempted. The EMH was, after all, a highly adaptive algorithmic intelligence—who knew what it might have learned?     

"Recommendations," Mantovanni immediately stated, opening the floor for discussion.     

"Attempt to overwhelm it with our superior firepower before it separates," Sito immediately suggested. "Full phasers and a spread of quantum torpedoes..."     

"...will either be successfully deflected, or damage the Prometheus more extensively than Starfleet is willing to allow," Kate reminded them gently.     

"The prefix code." This came from Ensign Parihn.     

Again, it was Sheridan who replied.     

"One would imagine that the 'stategic genius' has changed it by now. It's a good idea, but... no."     

"This is now, unfortunately, not our only difficulty." Sera turned back from ops to face the captain. "Stellar dynamics has completed its analysis of Beta Riandra's stability; I've checked their findings, and concur with them.     

"'Inevitable' is no longer the appropriate term for the nearness of the star's destruction."     

Sera's gaze never wavered, as she finished, "The operative word is now 'imminent.'"     

Mantovanni, without hesitation, calmly demanded, "Best guess."     

MacLeod considered it for a moment, and then replied, "Twenty-five minutes. At most."

The crew was stunned into silence.     

"Then again, maybe maximum warp would have been a good idea." The captain shook his head in disbelief at the situation; Sheridan looked momentarily uncomfortable, then realized he was merely exercising that particular vice common to starship commanders—that of blaming themselves for not being omniscient.     

"You know him best, Kate... you spent a few weeks with him. Talk to him. Try to draw him out. We need to know what brought him to these actions, and this stance. He obviously has some interest in ending his own existence. I think we've all come to the conclusion that the imminent supernova is what brought him here."     

Sheridan nodded, formulating a strategy on the fly.     

"Sito, reopen the channel."     

The young Bajoran complied. As the EMH2's image came again into focus, it was obvious that he was... perturbed... at having been kept waiting.     

"You are the ones who desired this communication! Do you actually have anything of intelligence to say, other than impotent threats or ineffectual persuasions?"

Sheridan took a deep breath before she spoke: Responding in kind to his belligerence wasn't going to get them anywhere.     

"Doctor, we promise we won't use force if you simply give us an explanation of your actions. Why have you brought the Prometheus out here?"     

"To destroy it. It's an instrument of death, and I cannot... will not... permit it to harm anyone else."

Sheridan listened as the hologram's voice rose nearly an octave. It was profoundly disturbed at the prospect of the ship being involved in the deaths of sentients; this much was obvious. What caused it to suddenly ... ?     

Of course.

Kate began to type into her PADD, sending the message to Mantovanni even as she continued to converse with the obviously overwrought program. She wrote:

It's guilt-ridden, sir. It caused the deaths of numerous Romulans when it and the EMH from Voyager utilized the multi-vector assault mode and destroyed a Warbird. Its program is overwhelmed by a conflict between its duty to Starfleet and its Hippocratic Oath.

I'm not sure reasoning with it is a viable option.

Mantovanni considered Sheridan's information, even as Sera murmured, "I am forced by additional data to amend my previous prediction... the star's deterioration is accelerating...we have perhaps three minutes before her initial eruption."     

The captain closed his eyes; Sheridan, from the corner of hers, could see him weighing the value of the Prometheus against the imminent destruction of the Liberty. She waited for the only order that made sense—the order to depart.     

Once again, he surprised her.     

"Bridge to Engineering."

"Irriantia here."

Mantovanni's voice was like cold stone. "Dump the warp core, Commander."     

His order paralyzed everyone—including the EMH2, who looked at him as if he were mad.     

Any other engineer in the Federation would have reacted with indignation or incredulity. Irriantia, after a moment, merely acknowledged, "Aye, aye, Captain."

A few seconds later, the ship shuddered as her only hope for escape from the exploding star rocketed away.     

"It's beginning," Sera informed them. "On screen...?"     

"Ignore it," Mantovanni snapped. "Time until the shockwave hits us?"     

"Forty-four seconds."

"Well, now..." the captain stated, almost conversationally, to the stunned EMH. "Are you planning on dying, and disobeying your Hippocratic Oath to do whatever is in your power to safeguard lives? Or are you going to attach a tractor beam to the Liberty and get us all the hell out of here?"     

The Doctor considered all his options; no doubt it took him less than a tenth of a second. Then the screen went blank.     

A second later, Sito yelled, "She's coming about, full impulse!"

"On screen," Sheridan ordered.    

She chose the perfect angle; as they watched, the Prometheus swept past them, lancing back with a powerful tractor beam and snaring the helpless Liberty in her powerful grasp.    

"Twelve seconds..." Sera announced calmly.     

"Attach a tractor beam to our warp core, please," the captain instructed.     

The Vulcan complied. "Tractor beam on, and functioning."     

Just then, the view-screen exploded with light, and they lurched into warp.     

Before they could relax, though, Mantovanni stunned them again.     

"Quantum torpedoes, Lieutenant Sito. Moderate yield, full spread; aim for her central computer cores."     

A moment's hesitation, then, "Armed and ready..." she whispered.     

"We're clear of the star's projected sphere of destruction," Sera announced.     

"Fire."

Prometheus was heavily armored; she, like Liberty, possessed an ablative coating, which served as a partial protection against attacks which penetrated her shields. Her designers, though, had certainly never envisioned an assault by a ship with a literally perfect field of fire. She was as close to completely vulnerable as she would ever be...     

...and Liberty took ruthless advantage of it.     

"Direct hits to the areas housing her computer cores..." MacLeod began, and broke off abruptly when the Prometheus' tractor beam did as well.     

"Stabilizing, sir," Ensign Parihn volunteered without prompting, as the ship spun out of control and eventually came to a stop only a few hundred meters from her savior.     

"Maximum shields. Lock phasers on target," Sheridan ordered, as a precaution.     

Sito hastened to do so.     

"Shields up. Weapons ready," she answered quickly.     

"Hail the Prometheus, Sera," the captain requested. His voice seemed suddenly subdued.     

The Vulcan tried establishing contact several times, and then ceased her efforts.     

"No response, sir; evidently our strike to her computer cores has left the EMH inoperative."     

He nodded. "Commander MacLeod, take a damage control party and secure the Prometheus. Lieutenant Sito, accompany with a tactical team. Ladies, I want the EMH fully deactivated; that means every holo-emitter on that ship is to be manually disconnected. Commander Irriantia will join you when he's completed reintegrating our warp core.     

"Get to it."     

He rose as they departed, and, with the subtlest of gestures, motioned Sheridan into the center seat.     

"You have the bridge, Commander. I'll be in my ready room."     

It was interesting how one could, at once, be both relieved and disappointed that someone had left. Kate smiled to herself, and shook her head.     

I think my nerves are shot.

Instead of seating herself at once, Sheridan strolled to stand behind Parihn even as the adept young conn officer brought Liberty smoothly alongside her quarry.     

"So, Ensign..." Kate whispered conspiratorially. When Parihn turned to listen, she inquired, "…is it usually like this around here?" she asked.     

"Yes, ma'am," the young Orion replied promptly, with just a hint of a grin. "And, if you don't mind my saying so...?" At her superior's nod, she finished.     

"...you fit right in."

***     

Kate Sheridan hesitated before the door of the captain's quarters: Twice she reached for the chime; and twice she pulled back before sounding it.     

Hmmm...last time you were here, X-O, she thought to herself, you: Cursed at your commanding officer; dashed the pieces of his antique chessboard to the ground; and had what could best be categorized as a "crying jag." I can't wait to see what you pull this time.     

Courage under fire. Just remember that.

She reached for it again, and this time carried through.     

A brief delay was followed by, "Enter."     

The scene was much the same as it had been the last time she'd visited him in the middle of the night—three days ago. He was again in his duty uniform, and again studying a chess position with contemplative focus.     

Even as she moved towards the seat to which he motioned her, the comm panel on his desk sounded.     

"Bridge to Captain Mantovanni."

He answered promptly. "Go ahead."     

"Communiqué from Starbase 88. Admiral Pierce wishes to speak with you, sir."

Mantovanni hesitated momentarily even as Sheridan started to rise. He waved her back into the chair, and informed ops, "I'll take it here, Lieutenant Rakell."     

"Yes, sir… putting it through for you now."

Sheridan had never seen Alexander Pierce up close. She knew from experience and extrapolation, though, that Captain Lex had something of a love/hate relationship with the man; and that indirectly, the admiral had, in a way, created her woes by assigning Michael Rudman to the Argus.     

The pickup was turned away, and she couldn't see the admiral's expression. His tone, though, seemed… guarded?     

"Captain; I just thought I'd begin by giving you free rein to express any... cathartic insubordination you feel is necessary before we get down to business..."

Mantovanni answered simply. "Nothing that immediately springs to mind, sir.

"But you'll be the first to know."     

Sheridan's eyes widened. She didn't really see the captain as the insubordinate type, and wondered briefly what kind of past he shared with Pierce.     

She heard a derisive snort from the comm panel.     

"Very well. Congratulations on your recovery of the Prometheus."     

"Thank you, Admiral," Mantovanni replied carefully.     

"Will I be furious when I see what methods you used to accomplish this rather amazing feat?"

He replied, "Absolutely, sir."     

She was beginning to read him rather well—the slight change in expression indicated suppressed amusement. Considering Pierce's Vulcan upbringing, it probably shone forth to him as a full-fledged boyish grin.     

"Then I'll read the report rather than asking for details now. How soon can she be ready for action?"

"A combat mission? As soon as her computer cores are fully repaired—with Starbase 88's facilities, a matter of hours or days, according to Commander MacLeod.     

"One thing, though: I'd suggest actual doctors in her Sickbay until the... quirks... are dealt with."     

There was a pause, then Pierce continued.     

"Noted.

"How's that little scheme you cooked up with Lex working out? The officer transfer... Janeway's 'daughter'? He's badgered me three times asking for her status... when she'll be ready for a return to the Argus..."     

Sheridan could feel herself blushing. A mixture of indignation, embarrassment, naked fury...     

They orchestrated the whole thing...! she thought.     

"I daresay she's ready now, Admiral," Mantovanni affirmed. He never looked away from the screen. "Thank you for allowing us to do it, and keeping the whole thing off her record."      

"Think nothing of it, Captain. I don't like your mouth, but I trust your judgment." There was another hesitation, and then the admiral continued with, "I see you play chess."

"On occasion, sir."

"Perhaps we'll have a game or two when you return to the Starbase," the older officer offered.     

"I'm at your disposal, Admiral."     

She could almost hear the grin in Pierce's thoughtful, "Why do I suddenly have the feeling of having jumped into a shark tank?"

Mantovanni merely raised an eyebrow.     

"Mmm hmm ... just what I thought. At any rate, congratulations again ... I look forward to an exchange between us where all the bloodshed is on the board."

At last, a slight grin. "Aye aye, sir."

The screen must have gone blank, because the captain's eyes turned immediately to Sheridan.     

"Something on your mind, Commander?"

She was astonished. The man was absolutely unflappable… completely without shame!     

"You played me... you and Captain Lex... you played me."

Wordlessly, he began to set up the pieces. This time he placed the white ones before her.

Sheridan considered getting up and walking out.

She considered throwing a punch.

She even considered kissing him… and not in the spirit of camaraderie, either.

Where had that come from?

He waved a hand. 

"Your move," he offered. Was there another grin hidden behind that amazing calm?

For now, pawn to king four seemed her best course. When he matched the play, she pushed its fellow to king bishop four—as he'd done three days ago.

King's Gambit.

She might not win, but he'd know he'd been in a game.

Kate smiled. Hang on, Captain, she thought.

I've got a few moves of my own.