Out of Legends
by Soledad
Fandom: Andromeda/Stargate: Atlantis crossover
Genre: Action-adventure/Romance
Rating: Adult
Series/sequel: none, so far
Archiving: my website and Otherworlds. Everyone else: ask, please.
Disclaimer: don't own them, no money made. Only the original Than and Athosian characters belong to me.
Timeframe: early Season 2 for Andromeda, end of Season 1 for SG-Atlantis
Summary: Trying their luck with Hasturi's map once again, the Andromeda ends up in the Pegasus Galaxy, 3000 years in the past. Will the Ancient knowledge stored in Atlantis help them get home again?
A short introduction
This is a crossover and an AU, written with the explicit intent to change a lot of things I greatly dislike in either Andromeda's or SG-Atlantis' canon. Consequently, Dr. Weir still has the first name Theresa and is still played by the wonderful Jessica Steen; she is the cousin of Elizabeth Weir, and is still engaged to Simon Wallace. Theresa and Elizabeth had been in sharp competition with each other all their lives, but Elizabeth never stood a chance. Not until Teresa left for Atlantis, that is.
I also twisted canon a bit by having supporting characters in Atlantis who would only appear with one of the Earth ships at the end of Season 1. There are too many name- and faceless extras on the show; I wanted a less homogenous community. I added a few original Athosian characters, and no, I'm not particularly impressed with either Major Sheppard or Teyla Emmagan.
In this AU (as in practically all of my Andromeda-stories) Tyr had kept Freya with him after "Double Helix", while still sending the rest of Orca Pride into exile. The Perseids Höhne and Rekeeb are aboard Andromeda, bargaining for the use of Hasturi's map, The Than hive is from my Birthright series and their leader, the Diamond Than, is aboard to "study" Dylan Hunt's actions before giving the Than government her opinion about joining the new Commonwealth. And no, I don't like Dylan Hunt, either.
I want to emphasize again that this is an AU. I know my canon and I respect it to a certain extent, but I have my own view on the events and the characters, which might contradict the accepted norm. You have been warned.
Still with me? Then lean back and enjoy. :))
Chapter 01 – Slip Point Lost
Author's Notes:
Although both species are canonically hermaphrodites, I've picked up the custom to mention Perseids as "he" and Than as "she". I know it's not entirely correct, but it makes things easier.
The quotes in italics are from "The Ancestor's Breath", Keith Hamilton Cobb's own thoughts about Nietzscheans. Unfortunately, the website where they used to be posted has been gone for quite some time by now.
Beta read by erinnyes, whom I ove my never-ending gratitude.
It was a particularly rough ride in slipstream. Beka might have managed to get them through a lot smoother, but Beka was still restricted to her quarters, recovering from her recent Flash overuse. Tyr was certain that he, too, would have performed the task a lot better than their esteemed captain – hell, Harper would have done better! – but Dylan was not in the mood to leave his ship in the hands of anyone else. Not after the last near-disaster.
So Dylan had pulled rank, and the Andromeda rode the uncommonly bumpy waves of slipstream for what seemed eternity. Already, several complaints from the Perseids and Than currently travelling with them as a passengers had found their way to the command deck via the intercom system, but nobody had the time to care for them. Tyr exchanged concerned looks with Harper. At least the scrawny little kludge had a healthy survival instinct, unlike Hunt who was led either by reckless bravado or by self-destructive idealism. Or that Magog that endeavoured to see beauty in every single destructive force of the universe that tried to kill them.
"Something's wrong." Harper voiced his worries. His pitch was half an octave higher than usual, which revealed his barely-hidden fear. "We should have reached a slipstream exit at least 20 seconds ago."
"Well, there aren't any," Hunt snarled, shaking with effort to keep the ship in the right position. Or in the least disastrous one, anyway.
"My point exactly," Harper commented. "We're lost."
"No, we're not," Dylan replied through gritted teeth. "The Andromeda can open any slip-point on her own."
"If there are any slip-points at all," Harper pointed out with infuriating logic. "And even if there were any, we're already so far off-route that there's no way to tell where we'll fall back to normal space."
"At this point," Tyr declared sourly, "I'd be happy to come out of slipstream anywhere."
"Slip-point ahead," the calm, even voice of Andromeda's main AI announced, and it rattled down the coordinates, while the avatar shot Tyr a challenging look. The Nietzschean ignored her.
"Brace yourselves," Dylan shouted, steering the ship in the direction given by the AI.
The gravitational eddies of slipstream nearly tore the Andromeda to pieces, and for a moment Harper, who was in love with every incarnation of the ship as only a devoted engineer could be, regretted the moment he'd set foot on it. But miraculously, after an exceedingly violent shake that sent Rev Bem flying out of his seat, they actually managed to fell out of slipstream, into a relatively dense area of…of whatever galaxy they happened to land in.
"We're still alive," Tyr stated with mild surprise. "Wonders never cease, it seems."
"Yeah, but where are we?" asked Harper. "I can't remember any place like this."
"Stellar configurations don't match any of the three known galaxies," Rev Bem got to his feet with minimal effort. Magog were tough. "Perhaps Andromeda has older data from unexplored galaxies in her astrocartography database."
"Accessing," Rommie's holographic image flickered to life next to Dylan's chair. "Data confirmed. We're in the Pegasus galaxy – a small galaxy of the local cluster. The Commonwealth never expanded its influence into this direction, and there's little to no data about his area."
"But surely they've sent at least scout ships to map the area," Dylan said in exasperation.
"They have," Rommie replied calmly, "but the scout ships tended to disappear here and never to reappear. The one or two that did return, had a mummified crew aboard. So the Commonwealth declared the Pegasus galaxy a quarantine zone and prohibited its fleet to enter the area. There even used to be a defence perimeter of automated mines and weapon platforms to stop ships coming from this galaxy. Fortunately, only one slipstream route led here, and guarding its other end was an easy task.
"Have there ever been any ships trying to make the transit?" Tyr asked with a frown.
"Not to my knowledge," Rommie said. "It was a purely pre-emptive measure from the Commonwealth's side."
"And is there really no data about this galaxy at all?" Dylan asked in slight disappointment.
"Nothing aside from ghost stories," Rommie rolled her holographic eyes in a very convincing manner. "Apparently, the Pegasus galaxy is populated by 'space vampires'."
"Space… vampires," Dylan repeated blandly, while Harper cast a nervous look around him. He was rather superstitious, in a half-joking way, always adding that the worst horror stories couldn't be half as bad as living on a Magog-infested Earth, under the iron boot of 'the Drago-Kazov jerk-offs', as he called the Nietzschean oppressors.
"Yes, Captain," Rommie answered. "Space vampires that could suck life out of people by mere touch."
"Which would explain the mummified bodies," Rev Bem pointed out placidly.
Dylan shot him an irritated look. "Rev, you can't take this seriously! There's no such things as vampires, space-born ones or otherwise."
"No," Harper muttered under his breath, "we're a lot less lucky. We got the Übers and the Magog instead. At least you could repel vampires with garlic. Or with holy water. And they weren't that hard to kill, either: a stake in the heart, and boom – they were dust. Or you chopped off their head. That worked, too. And fire, and direct sunlight, and…"
"Mister Harper," Dylan said warningly. Harper gave him an insulted look.
"What? It's true? Even Beka's holonovels say that…"
"I wouldn't call Beka's holonovels a reliable source of information," Dylan said with forced patience. "I'd suggest, that – instead of fantasizing wildly – we should start a systematic scan for habitable planets. We might find some local inhabitants."
"And that would be good for us...how exactly?" Tyr asked "Ghost stories or not, the Commonwealth must have had a good reason to put this entire galaxy under quarantine."
"Do you have any constructive suggestion?" Dylan asked back indignantly.
Tyr shrugged. "I suggest survival, as always. Let's get out here as quickly as possible. Back on the way we have come."
"That," Rev Bem pointed out reasonably, "would get us back to where we were running from, 'with our tails between our legs', I think the Earth saying would phrase it. Back to mortal danger."
"Perhaps," Tyr allowed, "but at least that would be a known danger. I prefer it to a quarantined galaxy any day."
"I'm afraid that's not a possibility any longer," Rommie chose this very moment to drop her bombshell. "The slip-point is gone."
"What do you mean gone?" Harper always panicked easily, although never without a good reason. Being stuck in an uncharted galaxy full of space vampires was a very good reason to panic, in his opinion. Tyr, although not one inclined to panic himself, could not blame the little kludge.
"Gone," Rommie repeated blandly. "As in 'vanished'. Or in 'not there anymore'. My sensors can't find it."
Dylan stared at the android with his mouth agape, which, to tell the truth, didn't exactly improve his already battered looks. "That's impossible!"
"Denying the fact wouldn't change it, Captain," Rommie said a bit indignantly. "The slip-point isn't there. Either it collapsed due to our rough transit, or it shut down for some other reason. Whatever the cause is, it's not there anymore. "We'll have to find another route back."
"Great idea," Harper said sarcastically. "In a few hundred thousand years or so we even might reach one of the known galaxies."
"I'm sure we'll find another slip-point eventually," Dylan said. "We need thorough scans pf the area anyway. Rommie, you better start at once. Mr. Harper, you should consult your Perseid friends. I'll inform the Than about this…unexpected development. Let's meet in the mess hall in an hour again."
He strode off, without waiting for an answer, leaving a fairly stunned crew behind. Tyr was the first to move. "I need to speak with my wife. She would want to know what happened."
Rev Bem made a generous wave with a clawed hand. "Go. I'll keep watch on the command deck. It's not so as if there would be much to do for an officer on duty right now."
That was very true indeed, and so Harper and Tyr left the command deck, leaving the Magog and the android in charge. The engineer jogged down a few decks to the guest quarters, where the two Perseid scientist had been designed temporary accommodations, while the Nietzschean returned to his own quarters to inform his wife about the newest mishaps of their lives.
Technical Director Höhne, one of the lead scientists of the Perseid colony Sintii IV, had followed the events through the intercom system, of course. He and his assistant, a young field researcher named Rekeeb, had come aboard the Andromeda Ascendant to examine the possibly usefulness of Hasturi's diary…about which Höhne had his personal doubts, to be honest. The late Wayfinder wasn't called 'The Mad Perseid'' without a reason. But the possibility of finding previously unknown slipstream routes was simply too tempting to let it pass.
Besides, both he and Rekeeb welcomed the chance to work with Harper once again. After that most exciting experiment with the Hephaestus black hole, when they had made a connection – and even transported matter via radiation – not only through space but also time, he had kept contact with the human engineer. Despite his disorganized mind – a common genetic fault by all people of human origin – Harper showed the true streaks of genius sometimes, and Höhne wanted to put the young man's gift to good use as long as he still could.
Unfortunately, that time would be cut short. It was tragic that Harped had got infested with Magog larvae and would die, soon. There was no help for that condition, Höhne knew that all too well, and though Harper's larvae were dormant at the moment, that wouldn't last forever. Once the little parasites developed an immunity against the serum that put them to sleep, they would begin to hatch. And then, Harper's only hope would be a swift and merciful death, dealt him by the steady hand of Andromeda's resident Nietzschean.
At least the little human could trust that Anasazi wouldn't let him go through the excruciating pain of being torn open from the inside. The Nietzschean's survival instinct wouldn't allow the things to hatch. Still, it was such a waste. With proper education, Harper could have become the greatest scientific mind of his generation. Even as a self-made engineer, he was excellent. A shame that he'd never get the chance to reach his full potential.
The beeping of his intercom unit interrupted his thoughts. To his surprise, the caller was Radiance of Wisdom. It was a rare thing that the bugs would contact him – Perseids and Than didn't socialize as a rule; besides, Höhne and Rekeeb had just recently came aboard – and if the Sapphire Than felt the need to do so, it must have had a good reason. And that piqued Höhne's curiosity.
"Yes, Ms Wisdom, how can I be of service?" he asked with the customary Perseid eagerness to solve a problem – any problem. Perseids practically lived for that sort of thing.
"I hope so, Technical Director," crackled the artificial vocoder voice of the Than. "I've run into some…something strange. Would you mind to take a look and discuss the problem with me?"
"I'd love it," Höhne was on his way already. "Where are you?"
"In one of the astrophysics labs," the Sapphire Than gave him the correct location.
"I thought those labs were all disabled and closed," Höhne said, walking out of the door. The Andromeda's comm system was integrated into the corridor bulkheads as well, so they could continue the conversation while he was walking towards his destination.
"They were," Radiance of Wisdom replied, "but Than are not as sensitive to environmental discomfort as mammals. I've reinstalled a few of the instruments with Captain Hunt's permission, did a few scans – and found something… disturbing."
"More disturbing than Mr. Harper's ghost stories?" Höhne giggled.
"It depends," the Sapphire Than replied with scientific detachment.
"On what?" the Perseid couldn't quite suppress a few more giggles. Really, young Mr. Harper's superstitions were way too ridiculous for the scientific mind to take them seriously.
"On the question whether Mr. Harper's ghost stories have an ounce of truth under all that colourful language," the Than answered calmly.
Captain Dylan Hunt stared at the Sapphire Than in utter disbelief. It took him several moments – and repeated efforts – to press out the first question.
"You've found out what?" he asked.
"I compared the star charts from the Commonwealth era with my recent scans," Radiance of Wisdom repeated, "and I've found significant differences. Significant in the scientific sense of the word, of course."
"And from those differences you can simply conclude that we've landed three thousand years in the past?" Hunt shook his head. "No offence, Wisdom, but that's ridiculous."
"On the contrary, Captain," Höhne replied seriously. "The expansion of the known universe is a universal constant, and its speed can be mathematically calculated – with sufficient accuracy. So yes, we can affirm that our 'rough slipstream ride', as you so elaborately put it, has not only thrown us into a previously unexplored galaxy, but also three thousand years in the past. Give or take a few decades."
"Can we also confirm that we still are in the same universe?" Seeing the unbelieving glares aimed at him, Tyr Anasazi shrugged. "I'm not a scientist, but I've read somewhere that the existence of parallel universes cannot be ruled out with scientific methods."
"That's true," Höhne admitted, "and it was a logical question, actually. Unfortunately, it's also a question that we can't answer; not yet. It would require a thorough analysis on the quantum level – and instruments that we don't have to our disposal."
"Not even on a ship as advanced as the Andromeda?" Rev Bem frowned.
"I'm afraid not," the ship's avatar gave the Magog an apologetic look. "I'm a warship, Rev, not a research vessel. If Director Höhne and Wisdom need better instruments, somebody will have to build them."
She looked at Harper pointedly. The little engineer rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I know, I know," he grumbled. "More work for me."
"As if you'd mind," Beka grinned at him fondly.
"Not really," Harper admitted. But he looked uncharacteristically tired, and his eyes were haunted. He hadn't been himself since the events on the Magog worldship, and frankly, who could blame him for that?
"That's a waste of time," Tyr commented.
Hunt gave him an annoyed look. "Do you have a better suggestion?"
"I have two," the Nietzschean replied. "One: keep scanning for slip-points. There always should be some near matter, and we have an entire galaxy sitting in front of us, no matter how small it is. Sooner or later, we must find one, and from there on, it will be up to Captain Valentine's navigating skills… which are considerable, for a mere human, as we've all seen."
"Why, Tyr, I never knew you valued me so highly," Beka riposted with false sweetness.
The Nietzschean turned unfathomable amber eyes to her. "Nonsense," he said. "I'm just acknowledging a useful skill that could be serviceable for my survival."
"Sure you do," Beta grinned. "Now, what's your other suggestion, in case we won't find any slip-points?"
The Nietzschean shrugged. "We can always search for a sufficiently advanced planet in this galaxy. One where we might find help to get back home using some other method."
"No!" Harper protested in obvious panic. "Nonono, we can't go in there! Do you all want to end up as desiccated mummies?"
"Shut up, boy!" Tyr growled.
"No, I won't shut up!" Harper's fear overcame his natural wariness around Nietzscheans. "The Harper is entitled to panic every now and again. We're not on Earth where the fucking Übers like you get to boss little kludges like me around, you know."
"Perhaps," agreed Tyr amiably, "but I can still stuff you into a duct pipe and seal the hatch behind you with a nanowelder."
"Tyr, I won't allow you to harm my only engineer," Rommie warned. Her eyes were cold and protective; it was clear that she meant it.
"Nobody will come to harm here today," Hunt intervened in his usual superior manner. "But you must admit, Tyr, that Harper does have a point. I don't mean the so-called space vampires, of course, but there's a fair chance that the borders of this galaxy are still mined."
"That is what we have long-range sensors and point defence lasers for," Tyr shrugged. "Sitting here in the starless void won't help us getting back. I for my part am for going forward."
"He does have a point, too," Rev Bem commented placidly.
Hunt shook his head. "This is ridiculous," he protested. "Even if we manage to clear the minefield in one piece, where are we supposed to go? This galaxy has never been charted, we don't have any maps."
"No," Beta said with a broad grin. "We have something better. We've got Trance."
The purple girl gave her an alarmed look. "People, I really don't know…" she began nervously.
"Don't worry," Beka patted her back. "You'll find the right way for us. You always do."
Trance still looked rather doubtful but chose not to voice her doubts – for the time being anyway. The others (with the exception of Harper, of course, who didn't stop protecting all the time) came to the consensus that Tyr's plan, if somewhat vague, was still the only one that promised at least a slim chance for success. So it was decided that they would give it a try.
"First of all, we need to find out whether the mines are still in place," Hunt said. "Rommie, do we have the coordinates where they originally have been placed?"
"Yes," the android replied promptly. "According to my database, they have been set out in CY 7986, some two hundred years after the Than became members of the Commonwealth."
"Director Höhne," Hunt turned to the Perseid, "can you and Radiance of Wisdom calculate how much the mines must have been drifted apart in the meantime?"
"Of course," the Perseid nodded excitedly; several times, in fact. "That's not such a long time, not on the cosmic scale of things."
"Besides," Rommie added, "High Guard mines were semi-intelligent and well able to correct their course if necessary."
"Assuming that we're still in our own universe," Rev Bem added serenely. "Otherwise we can't count on the existence of the Commonwealth… or that of the High Guard…now or in the future."
"Let's deal with first things first," Hunt said, obviously unwilling to consider that possibility. "We'll act as if we were sure that we've landed in our own past. Mr. Höhne, Wisdom, do the calculations. Rommie, call up the old maps and do the sensor sweeps. The others are dismissed."
"What are we going to do if we find out that we have landed in a different universe?" Freya asked. "Or if we cannot return to our own time? Even if this is our own universe, it would still take at least two thousand years for Paul Museveni to create our race."
She was resting on the couch in the living room of what had once been the quarters of Gaheris Rhade, the Andromeda's first officer. As Rhade had been a Nietzschean himself, the sombre, Spartan elegance of his quarters matched the taste of Tyr and Freya quite well – neither of them was attracted to flashy things. Freya particularly liked this dark leather couch with its dark blue velvet cushions – although she wasn't showing yet, even Nietzschean women tired more easily in the first phase of pregnancy, and the couch was of just the right height to get up again easily after a short nap.
"We shall do what we always do." Tyr laid a gentle hand upon the barely visible bulge of her stomach. "We shall survive. And if we cannot find a way back, we shall begin our new Pride here. In this time – or in this universe."
Freya grinned up into his face.
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" she asked. "A different universe. A fresh start. Recreating our entire species from the scratch. Becoming the forefather of the Nietzschean people, two thousand years before Drago himself."
"The thought does have its attraction," Tyr admitted. "After all, is it not the ultimate goal of every Nietzschean to outdo not only his enemies but also fate? My father used to say to me when I was but a young boy: You are the centre of the wheel. All things revolve about you. You are the only god; your strength the greatest strength; your arm the fellest arm. He repeated it every time my mother called him to her chambers to spend the night with her. At that time, I did not understand what he meant."
"And now you do?" Freya asked doubtfully.
Tyr nodded. "The recent events of my life made me believe in destiny. If that is the only way to prevail, I am willing to stay here. In this time. In this universe, if it has to be. Whatever way, it is my destiny to recreate my Pride – and it has already begun, with the child you are carrying."
"Perhaps," Freya allowed, not yet ready to accept it. "But what about the others? We have each other – and your destiny, if you want to put it that way. They are alone. Lost. They would wish to go back, no matter what the costs are."
"I know," Tyr said. "It is understandable. They have a lot to lose – even Harper. His only hope to get rid of the larvae lies back where we came from… slim as it might be. Only with the help of Perseid technology can he hope to reverse engineer that tesseract device – and that technology is on Sintii IV, not here."
"What if we can never get back?" Freya asked. "What will become of the little man if we are stranded here forever?"
"He is sentenced to death," Tyr replied grimly. "Eventually, the larvae will hatch. And then, I will have no other choice than to kill him. I cannot allow those monsters to infest another time…or another universe. There is no other way. Besides, it would be merciful to Harper to make it as quick and painless as possible."
"And yet you regret it," Freya said. It was not a question.
Tyr nodded. "It will be a shameful waste. A brilliant human physicist who lived not much after Nietzsche himself said once: A human being is part of the whole called by us 'the universe,' a part limited in time and space. Yet limited as that part might be, once it is gone, the universe will lose something of its infinite diversity. And the loss of this particular human being is something we shall sorely feel, once he is gone. Harper is useful, even brilliant in his limited human ways. His potential could have served my purposes in many different ways."
"Do you truly believe that you could have won him over to your side?" Freya asked doubtfully.
Tyr shrugged. "I could have tried."
"And failed," Freya said. "He hates us – and he had reasons. Good reasons, considering his inferior point of view."
"He hates the Magog more than he hates us," Tyr pointed out. "And yet he has crewed with Rev Bem for many years."
"Rev Bem is not a typical Magog," Freya reminded him.
"Oh, yes, he is," Tyr replied with a dark smile. "Under that fancy robe of his, behind all those platitudes, he is still a bloodthirsty monster. And Harper seems to be the only one – with the exception of us both – who can feel it. Instinct, I guess. It comes from growing up on Earth."
"You are mistaken," Freya said. "Harper and Rev Bem are friends."
"As far as one can be friends with one's own dinner," Tyr answered grimly. "Harper is not a fool. He is as wary around the Magog as he is around me or you. Always watchful. He is a true survivor – a pity that he will not survive much longer."
TBC