TITLE: The Crucible

AUTHOR: Mike Jaffa (aka Mikejoe aka Michael J. Gallagher)

SYNOPSIS: After 133,000 years, the Cylons are revealed … and this time, it could be the end of everything.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the rights to GENE RODDENBERRY'S ANDROMEDA. Nor do I own the rights to the re-imagined BATTLESTAR GALACTICA. Nor to the lyrics to any of the songs quoted. I am using all of the above without permission but I am not making any money off it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: First of all, this is not an alternate universe, at least as far as DROM's continuity is concerned. I just want that out there just in case. Second, I didn't watch GALACTICA much while it was on the air, but I saw the series finale and I checked on Wikipedia. So apologies in advance for any details I get wrong. Beyond that, I hope you like it!

"In every loss

In every lie

In every truth you'd deny

And each regret

And each goodbye

Was a mistake too great to hide

And your voice was all I heard

That I get what I deserve"

-Linkin Park, "New Divide."

PREVIOUSLY ON GENE RODDENBERRY'S ANDROMEDA:

A sudden Nietzschean assault leads the *Andromeda* into a trap at Enge's Redoubt, the homeworld of the Drago Kasov Pride - a trap set by their Nietzschean crew member, Tyr Anasazi. Dylan and his friends try to flee, but Tyr has sabotaged the *Andromeda* - they can not leave without destroying Enge's Redoubt. The Commonwealth fleet comes to the rescue. But when the Commonwealth's and Dragon's enemies descend on the system to settle old scores, Tyr returns to the *Andromeda* to repair the ship and allow his old friends to escape. Then he leaves in his slip fighter. Dylan and the *Andromeda* provide cover fire for Tyr and then leave the Enge's Redoubt system, leaving Tyr to fend for himself in the battle ….

AND NOW, ON GENE RODDENBERRY'S ANDROMEDA:

"Always beware of the risk of confusing your mask with your own face."

- Shadow Cavalry Covert Operations Manual, CY 63

PROLOGUE: IF YOU LOVE SOMETHING …..

Tyr hugged himself against the cold air in his slip fighter's cockpit. He had flown into a cluster of debris and powered down his ship's system to the bare minimum level to wait for the battle to spend itself. What could have been a parting gift for Dylan - the opportunity to destroy the Drago Kasov Pride once and for all (although he wouldn't have been surprised if Dylan had found another option) - had become a free-for-all as enemies of the Commonwealth and the Drago Kasov had descended on the system and begun settling scores, turning on each other once the Commonwealth and Dragon fleets had been decimated. Tyr hadn't anticipated this. His first order of business, after rendezvousing with the Sabra-Jaguar flagship, would be to investigate what had happened. This Collector whom he had been communicating with, Pish, probably had had a hand in it. Tyr would have to be certain they understood their relationship. He hadn't burned bridges with Dylan to see everything he was trying to build destroyed by someone who was supposed to be an ally.

The irony of that sentiment wasn't lost on him.

Not for the first time in the hour since the *Andromeda* had slipstreamed out of the system, Tyr's thoughts went back to his former colleagues. He had only barely noticed the *Andromeda* slipstreaming away as he negotiated a fire fight, and yet - irrational and un-Nietzschean though it was - he felt as if a part of his heart had gone along with it. Yet there was no denying that Dylan, Beka, Harper, and Trance - even the Magog and Andromeda herself in all her forms - had been a huge part of his life for three years. So of course his decision hadn't been an easy one, in spite of the facts. He'd always known he could never have pursued the opportunities open to him and remain part of Dylan's crew. He'd known this confrontation had been inevitable, with only a few possible endings.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Harper had accused him of waiting to betray the others, but had he been waiting or delaying as long as he possibly could? He'd debated the question almost daily in recent months, and he still didn't know the answer.

A female voice crackled on the audio channel: "Hello?" The voice shook with panic. "Can anyone hear me?"

Tyr activated his passive sensors and located the source: An armored transport drifting on the edge of the debris field. His fighter's computer couldn't determine if the single life sign aboard was human or Nietzschean, but whoever was aboard was flying erratically.

"Please," the voice went on. "I'm an escaped slave from Enge's Redoubt. My ship is damaged and I'm …. I'm sick! Is anyone out there?"

'Now would be a good time to come back, Dylan,' Tyr thought. He figured Dylan would have the same questions he did, and would return to find what information he could from the wrecked Commonwealth ships. If the *Andromeda* returned right now, they could scoop up the transport and rescue the occupant. Whatever was wrong with her, Trance would make short work of stabilizing her condition. Then Harper would probably inflict himself on the probably attractive female. (They always were attractive.)

'I am Seamus Zelazny Harper, super genious, here to serve your *every* need,' he would say. Then he would turn to Tyr. 'You found a little hottie. I guess you did something right today after all.'

Beeps from his console got his attention. Tyr shook himself. 'Focus,' he silently admonished himself. He was back in reality, no *Andromeda* in sight and new information on the transport: The occupant's life signs were becoming erratic. But two Ogami fighters had entered the area, zeroing in on signals from the ship.

"Is anyone out there?" the female voice repeated. "Please, help me!"

Tyr rolled his eyes. The occupant of that ship was as good as dead. Wherever Dylan was, he would have to corral the others into returning with him, and that would probably take a few more hours. Meanwhile, the Ogami would blow up the transport and its panicky occupant with it.

'That's no concern of mine,' Tyr told himself. Dylan might race to the rescue, but Tyr knew he had no obligation to do it. The transport's pilot had made her choice by flying into a war zone. Live or die, it would be the result of pitting her will against the universe, nothing more. It was no concern of Tyr's. Not his business at all.

The display showed the Ogami had acquired firing solutions on the transport.

"Drago's Bones!" Tyr cursed as he powered up the fighter and activated its active sensors. True to form, the Ogami turned on him.

Tyr went head on with the first fighter and dispatched it almost immediately. The other pilot was slightly smarter and got behind him. Tyr slammed on the reverse thrusters, got behind it and fired his missiles. The Ogami blew up. Sensors showed nothing else close enough to do any damage.

"Transport, stand by," Tyr radioed.

No response, although the occupant was still alive according to the sensors.

Tyr cautiously moved his fighter to dock with the transport's dorsal docking hatch. Once the latches were secure, he unstrapped from his chair and squeezed around the seat to open the docking hatch in the floor, revealing the transport's hatch. He tabbed a control on its edge and it irised open, revealing a ladder down into the ship's central section. The air didn't smell bad, so at least life support was working.

Tyr was halfway down the ladder when he heard the gauss pistol charge behind him.

"Now this is how it's going to be, human," said the voice he'd heard on the radio. "You and I are going to get out of this system in your fighter. Do as you're told and I'll let you go once we're at the nearest commerce planet. Fight me and things won't end well for you. Understood?"

Tyr looked over his shoulder and saw the gauss pistol being aimed at him by a human girl no taller than Trance or Rommie in a torn Drago Kasov ground support uniform. He guessed her age to be no more than 20 or 21. She had a tangled mass of red hair framing milky white eyes. That, the sound of her pounding heart and the smell of her adrenaline confirmed she was on flash. Some kind of blood-soaked bandage poked out from under her collar. She must have had a subcutaneous pain inflictor that she had removed herself. But then she saw her bone blades, peaking out through slits she'd ripped in her shirt sleeves. He revised his first opinion. Obviously, she was a Nietzschean. But a Nietzschean on drugs!? Unthinkable. But it explained why his computer hadn't identified her - it couldn't reconcile Nietzschean DNA with the life signs of a flash binge.

He almost couldn't either, but he filed that incongruity away and continued his assessment: She had to be an omega female. Probably no more than three times as strong as a comparably sized human girl, she was small and weak by Nietzschean standards. Nietzscheans would likewise take in her slim frame, small breasts, and thin lips and pronounce her plain, though he knew his human friends would say she was pretty. Harper would go overboard as always. (And ironically enough, Harper's chances with her would be slightly greater than 0% because on extremely rare occasions in the days of the Old Commonwealth, omegas had been allowed to breed with humans without being banished from their prides or facing other sanctions.)

Tyr envisioned Harper at the bottom of the ladder, turning around to face his captor.

'Oh my god, you are hot,' Harper would say. 'I am Seamus Zelazny Harper, and you can consider me a prisoner of you lo-'

"Are you deaf, human!?" the girl demanded. "I can shoot you and take your ship that way. That makes things harder for me but not by much. What's your answer?"

Tyr jarred back to reality. Of course, Harper wasn't really here; the girl had caught him wool gathering. But she had misread his reaction for fear. He could use that.

"A-all right," Tyr said, putting just enough of a tremor in his voice. "No need to be violent. I'll do as you say. Follow me." He started to slowly climb the ladder.

The girl began to climb behind him. "No tricks," she ordered.

Tyr's hand got on the top rung when he saw it by the hatch: The emergency docking collar release. Tyr wrapped one forearm around the ladder and held his body to it as he grabbed the release and yanked hard. Explosive bolts flashed around him, blowing the entire docking mechanism away from the ship, and the air rushing out began to push the two ships apart.

The girl cried in surprise as her pistol was yanked out of her hand and flew out the hatch. Tyr's free arm grabbed her just as she the air pulled her to his level and pressed her to him. Then the hatch above him automatically closed. If he hadn't grabbed her when he did, she would either have been blown out into space or been cut in half - maybe decapitated - by the closing hatch.

Why had he saved her again? Why had he bothered? Maybe Dylan's humanitarian efforts really had influenced him!

The girl wriggled in his grasp. He let go and she dropped down to the deck, landing badly and falling to the deck. Tyr dropped down, landing on his feet, just as she scrambled up. Her hand fished in a tool box and found a nano welder. It's tip blazed to life as she crouched, her bone blades twitched to full extension.

Tyr analyzed her stance. Clean and sober, she might have a chance: If she could get inside his reach, she could do a lot of damage before he countered her. But she wasn't thinking clearly. Her stance was poor, and her technique would be sloppy. Still dangerous to him, but it would be too easy to counter her, even kill her. He had not taken all these risks just to do that.

He extended one arm towards her as he stepped just slightly off to one side. "Now, listen to me-"

The girl lunged. Tyr side stepped and moved slightly forward. The nano welder missed him and she started to stumble past him - she'd thrown herself off balance, as he'd anticipated. Tyr put a hand on the back of her neck and shoved. The girl stumbled forward, crashing head first into a bulkhead. She turned to him, seemed to look him in the eye and slumped to the deck. The nano welder went off as soon as she dropped it.

Tyr grabbed a medical kit from a nearby rack. He propped her up against the wall and opened the kit and found the silver syringe: an injection of medical nanobots. They were designed to boost a Nietzschean's engineered immunity and aide healing, though not as effective as Commonwealth technology. What he wouldn't give for one of Trance's miracle cures right now!

'All right, Ship, you may have had a point,' he thought, remembering Rommie asking him about the wisdom of cutting himself off from his best allies. (It had been a penetrating question, actually, but he would die before he ever allowed that machine to know that.) But it was too late for recriminations, and he was the girl's only chance. He jabbed the syringe into her thigh and heard the hiss of its injection through her clothes. He tossed the syringe away and passed a medical scanner over her. As expected, the emergency nanos were trying to stabilize her, but her vital signs and blood chemistry were all over the place. Then he saw blood dribble from her tear ducts. The blood tears of a flash overdose.

"This is just wonderful," Tyr groused. Then he heard beeps from the cockpit. What now?

A voice crackled over the speakers. "Tyr?" It was a familiar deep voice, a cultured accent masking a cunning mind. "Duke Charlemagne Bolivar aboard the cruiser *Wotan,* calling on all frequencies. Respond please!"

The Sabra-Jaguar flagship, arriving slightly ahead of schedule. Maybe things were going to break the girl's way after all.

Tyr scooped her up, carried her to the cockpit, and laid her in the copilot seat. Then he got in the pilot seat and flipped open the mike. "Charlemagne, it's Tyr." He checked the instrumentation. "I am in an armored transport bearing 315 mark 27, four light seconds from your position. Alert your medical staff. I am coming in hot with a medical emergency."

"Tyr, what-"

Tyr hit the throttle. "Open your hangar doors now, Duke Bolivar, or brace for collision! I am coming in hot and have no time for niceties."