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Across every deck, systems hummed to life as launch protocols cascaded through the ship’s core.
On engineering Deck 1, Lieutenant Officer Percival Thorne, Chief Engineer, stood over the warp diagnostic console, sleeves rolled up, eyes narrowed at the pulsing blue readouts.
“Warp matrix stable,” Percival muttered, fingers dancing across the interface, “Field harmonic at ninety-nine point eight percent. Lamorak, Tamsin, lock in the final calibration.”
The two engineers snapped to it, their voices overlapping in crisp acknowledgment. The warp core thrummed, a low, resonate heartbeat.
On the bridge, Lieutenant Officer Elyan Leodegrance, the ship’s Helmsman, ran his hands across the helm controls, calibrating the sensitivity of the navigation array. The console responded with soft chimes, each one a confirmation of readiness.
“Helm is good to go, Captain,” Elyan reported, “Thruster alignment nominal. Inertial dampeners synced.”
Nearby, Commander Leon Du Bois, Chief of Security, stood at the tactical station, reviewing security clearances with high intensity. “Security grid locked,” Leon said, “All personnel accounted for.”
At the communications console, Lieutenant Mordred Rhos handled the flood of communication traffic with calm efficiency. His fingers moved quickly, routing messages, confirming launch windows, and acknowledging Starfleet Command’s oversight, “Captain, Command requests confirmation of departure readiness,” Mordred called out.
Arthur Pendragon stepped forward, and for the first time, he took the Captain’s chair.
The bridge quieted out of respect. The Camelot was his now, his responsibility. Arthur sat, posture straight and jaw set, eyes fixed on the forward viewscreen where the stars waited like a promise.
Guinevere stood at his right, hands clasped behind her back, the picture of composed authority, “You’re doing fine,” She said softly.
Arthur didn’t look at her, “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Exactly.”
A breath of humor flickered across his expression.
The turbolift doors hissed open and Merlin stepped onto the bridge. He almost immediately tripped over a consol cable, stumbling forward with a strangled noise, catching himself on the nearest railing, and then immediately tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. Half the bridge had turned to look.
Elyan raised an eyebrow at the display as Leon sighed.
Mordred bit his lip to keep from laughing.
Merlin’s face went scarlet, “Sorry,” He whispered to no one in particular. Merlin straightened, trying to look like someone who belonged on a starship bridge, then he felt it. A prickle at the edge of his awareness, a slight pressure.
He had felt psionic attention before, from Morgana and her half-sister, but Mordred’s was different. Sharper and hungrier. Like someone listening to not his thoughts, but the space around them.
Merlin turned slightly; Mordred was watching him. Still as a shadow, eyes dark and unreadable.
“You’re quiet.” Mordred studied him with unsettling stillness.
Merlin stiffened, “I’m not…”
“That’s not what I meant,” Mordred cut him off.
The words landed like a pressure change in his ears as if Mordred had brushed against something he shouldn’t be able to sense. Something Merlin had been told to keep buried. He bushed it down further, deeper. Pushing it out of reach.
Arthur noticed the tension between the two, “Problem, Lieutenant Emerysson?” His voice carrying across the bridge.
Merlin forced a smile, “Nope, just… meeting people?”
Arthur leaned back in the Captain’s chair, “Try not to meet them too hard.”
A few officers snorted quietly, and Guinevere’s lips twitched. Mordred’s expression, however, had not changed. He watched Merlin for another heartbeat, then turned back to his console with the same eerie calm.
Merlin exhaled, trying to steady himself.
The bridge hummed around him, consoles glowing, officers moving with purpose, the Camelot preparing to leap into the unknown. He felt the weight of it settle in his chest, heavy and electric.
Elyan adjusted the helm as they pulled out of the large dock, his fingers gliding across the controls with practiced ease. Leon finished his security sweep, tapping in the final authorization code as Mordred routed the last of the launch confirmations, his voice crisp and steady. Over the comms, Percival’s voice crackled, “Engineering ready for warp initiation.”
Every station, officer, and system was aligning perfectly, Merlin felt it settle around him.
Merlin could still feel the echo of Mordred’s attention, like a fingerprint pressed against the inside of his mind. The Camelot was seconds from launch, and Merlin Emrys already knew one thing: this mission was going to be much more complicated than Morgana had suspected.
The USS Camelot slipped into warp speed with the smooth, almost liquid motion of a ship built for long-range exploration. Stars stretched into pale ribbons across the viewscreen, the hum of the warp core settling into a steady, comforting thrum that bibrated through the deck. For the first time since launch, the crew began to breathe easily.