Subject: Grail: "Treaty of Algeron"- `Funeral Arrangements, Pt. 2'

<<Stardate: 47307.16- 17:20>>

<<Captains Ready Room>>

Epic sat heavily in his chair. He snorted a tired laugh at that. A few hours ago, it was someone else's chair. It was Jebediah Cochran's chair. His fathers chair.

He looked around at the spartan office. Cochran had only been on board for four days. Hardly enough time to personalize it in any way. Epic had been here a day less than that, and now, it was all his. hooray.

Epic was exhausted after his meeting with the Marines. Well, that wasn't completely accurate. He was exhausted by Brinn. She was fire and ice, that one. He needed her as his liaison to the Marines, and as a Marine leader. But, it was becoming obvious that he would need to rely more and more on Commander Hunt and his department if this ship was going to be run anything close to smoothly.

Tomorrow, he would contact the big man and discuss a distribution of responsibilities. If things kept up at their current pace, Epic would be dead from exhaustion in a week. But, at least he had a few moments to himself now.

At that moment, the doorchime sounded. A second later, the door slid open and a man he recognized from the Mess Hall earlier entered the room, trying hard to look Epic in the eyes.

"Are you Commander Terrakian?", the man asked.

Epic nodded once and indicated the seat opposite his desk. The man, Vincent Rogers, stepped up beside the chair, but did not sit. He seemed too nervous to sit comfortably and his anxiety vibrated against Epics empathic senses.

"Sir. I have to speak plainly. I have no experience with hosting formal affairs, much less a Captains funeral. I barely have clearance to use a replicator." It all gushed out in a single fluid release. Despite his weariness, Epic smiled.

"Mr. Rogers...", Epic hesitated when he said that. Why did he think of the baby, Kaede, when he said it? He shrugged. "My expectations of you are not so great. I appreciate your forthright communication, but my needs are simple. Consult the computer, I will authorize certain accesses, and prepare two delicacies representative of each of the cultures of the crew on board."

Rogers eyes widened as he calculated how many different races were aboard, then multiplayed it by two, to come up with an approximation of how many dishes needed preparing, and how many hands would be need to have it all done in less than four hours. He would need every member of his staff, including Frobo, if he could ever find him.

"Almost no one on board has had any real association with Captain Cochran. However, his station and these circumstances require this ceremony. Also, we are all under a great deal of stress considering our current assignment, and the bizarre conditions that have brought us where we are now. I want to give the people on this ship a little taste of home before I have to start coming down on them. Very soon, resource restrictions will begin. Consider this our `bon voyage' party."

Rogers nodded, but shrugged with his eyes. "I just hope..."

"You'll do fine, Mr. Rogers. You can even call for volunteers, if you wish, from the rest of the Starfleet and civilian crew. Do what you have to do to satisfy my needs and your requirements." Epics strength was failing him and he wanted some isolation.

"Yes, sir!", Rogers affirmed, then pivoted smartly on his heel, and departed. Epic could feel his growing anxiety, but he had no help for it. Hades! He couldn't even relax himself. At least, now, he had a moment to himself.

A moment later, the doorchime sounded. The door opened to admit Lt. Eve Mallory. Her face was pinched by some unknown concern. Epic sighed.

His first day as Captain was a long way from over.