The Gods were not smiling on him. In fact, it seemed as though the Gods had decided to go out of their way to make his life hell.

And Mark was being Mark; which didn't help matters in the least.

His one-on-one bout with Mark (as a prelude to gassing and gift-wrapping) turned into a three hour training session. As usual, Mark took seriously any of them asking for help, and was giving Jason a blow by blow tutorial on improving his style.

Going into hour three, Jason was trying to find a way to end this and wondered why, when confronted by a teaching situation, Mark lost all sense of humour and became as boring as all hell. This was fighting they were talking about – something that both of them were very well matched with, and they had discussed different styles for hours on end (complete with demonstrations) without being bored.

He'd brought it all on himself, deliberately being a little sloppy (but not too much that it was obvious) as a way to convince Mark he was off.

"Jason, are you listening?" came the sharp voice.

"Yeah, got all that," he replied. "Promise I'll try harder and all that. Can we finish now?"

For the first time in the last three hours, Mark grinned. "We'd better if we don't want to incur the Wrath of Princess. Do you realise we have exactly forty-five minutes to get ready to leave for dinner?"

Jason looked at the clock. "Shit. Race you to the shower." Damn, blast, shit. There went his plan for this afternoon. Damn Mark. Damn his lessons. Damn his sheer pighead Comander-ness. He needed a drink. A nice cold beer would go down really well about now.

Jason made a detour to the kitchen and came across Keyop looking glum and unusually neat and tidy.

"What's with the gloom and doom, squirt?"

"Not allowed to move until we go," he said. "Princess said she'd kill me if I got messed up."

"Ahhh. She's making threats. She must be nervous."

"I've been ready for two hours, Jason. She made me get ready so she could check me before she started herself."

"Two hours? Oh ye gods. Thanks for the warning, Keyop. I'll clue Mark in. Tiny know?"

Keyop nodded. "He's already been warned."

"What did we do to deserve this?"

"Love Princess. Want her to have a nice birthday."

Jason nodded and smiled. "Yeah. I suppose that's it."

"How's plan coming?"

"It's not. Let's just say it's been foiled by Mark."

"Still gonna try?"

"It's not so much a plan any more, Keyop, as a crusade. No way am I gonna let this go now. There's always tomorrow."

"Can I help?"

Jason shook his head. "No way. If Princess found out you were involved, she'd be after my balls."

Keyop laughed. "Can't have that happening. Who'd go after the Spectran spies then?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

At least Princess wouldn't be able to blame any of them for the disaster the evening turned into.

There were times, Jason decided, when Mark was an exceptional Commander. When the Spectran attack happened mid-way through their main course, he simply gathered them all up and got the mission underway.

Jason was impressed at the way he managed to ignore the laser-beam looks from Princess. He was even more impressed by the way that, when they boarded the mecha, he just stood back and let Prin have her head.

Come to that, so did he. It was infinitely safer. At one point, he started to pity the goons. It must have been unnerving for those at the master controls to have a pink-clad woman grabbing them by the throat and screaming that they had spoiled her birthday dinner, and now they were going to pay.

What impressed Jason the most was, as they got back on the Phoenix after their lovely bout of destruction (and their Swan definitely outdid herself with the "boom" this time) and were coming down from the bubble, all Mark did was look at her and ask mildly "Feel better now?"

Jason wondered what their Commander would have done if she hadn't replied with "Yes, thanks. I do." Probably would have put her through a hellish workout when they returned. Or lectured her until she was bored out of her anger.

It wasn't fair. He wanted to give her his special present – and this lack of co-operation by the present (not to mention the universe in general) was starting to piss him off.

Tomorrow. There was always tomorrow.

Tomorrow came. Mark was getting harder and harder to find, Jason found. He was starting to wonder if, somehow, Mark had worked out what he was intending.

He finally tracked him down in mid-afternoon (apparently fly-boy had been off doing just that) in the kitchen.

And that was where it all came to a head.

It started innocently enough. Keyop running saying he and Princess were off for a swim.

Princess then wandered in – already in her swimming gear and wearing a pair of his own old jeans which she'd turned into cutoffs.

At that point, at the sight of her dressed like that, even Jason's mouth went dry.

She wandered over and leaned against the bench, next to where Mark was sitting reading a magazine while he scoffed birthday cake.

"Why don't you come with us, Mark?" she asked.

Mark didn't even look up. "Sorry, have to do the mission reports from last night."

Yeah, right, thought Jason. If he'd done the things instead of going flying, he'd be able to go swimming with Princess. With Princess looking like that.

She reached out one hand and put it on his shoulder. That made him look up. "Sure?" she asked.

Mark nodded. "I really do have to get them done, Prin. Next time."

At that, Mark got up and started to move away.

Jason snapped.

"Keyop," he said softly. "Hand me your bolas."