Author's Note: I've been wanting to and have been asked to write a Beka/T.
Rhade fanfic. To tell you the truth, I've been a little scared of starting
a new fic, but here goes anyway. Tell me what you think so far.
Invictus
By: Bella Pilyavskaya
Chapter 1
"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul,"
* * * * * * * * * *
"The Divine Comedy." That was the title of the book. Not "The Birth of Tragedy," "Daybreak: Reflections on Moral Prejudices," "Beyond Good and Evil," or any other book by the long dead human philosopher, Nietzsche. Telemachus Rhade had discovered that after reading many of Nietzsche's works once as an adolescent and yet again as an adult, he had no guilt about picking up something else to satisfy his literary curiosity. After all, he reasoned, how could he grow and improve with such a narrow perspective of the universe. Telemachus was the kind of man who silently observed others, listened to their views, and then followed his own instincts. It was the same liberal frame of mind that allowed him to work well with all Andromeda crewmembers, regardless of the species. Well, almost all.
The only crewmember who seemed to give him trouble with her passive aggressive behavior was the ship's First Officer, Beka Valentine. He knew full well that her past encounters with other Nietzscheans, more specifically Tyr Anasazi, was the reason behind her hostility. Rhade had hoped that they could be friends, however after the incident with the bio- armor, he had set that notion aside. Close association with someone who attempted to rip out one's heart did not serve to further one's survival. His ribs still felt it every time he took a deep breath.
"Telemachus," Rhade looked up from his book to see Andromeda's holographic avatar appear in front of him. "Captain Hunt called for all senior officers to come to command."
"I'll be right there," he replied, placing the book back on the shelf.
* * * * * * * * * *
"In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed."
* * * * * * * * * *
As Telemachus entered command, his dark eyes immediately focused on a small beat up transport barely half the size of the Maru. There was nothing terribly unusual about the ship, but Rhade didn't recognize the design. His brow furled in suspicion. There was something about it... It clearly posed no threat to the Andromeda, so why would Dylan have taken an interest in it?
"What's going on?" he asked Harper. The young human stood in a corner opposite of the screen, hands folded over his chest. By the look on his face, Rhade could tell that he wasn't the only one bothered by the transport.
"Unmarked ship," Harper jerked his head in the direction of the monitors. "Best case scenario: thieves or smugglers. Worst-case scenario: slavers or assassins. And when was the last time we got the best case?"
"Wonderful," the expression on the Nietzschean's face mirrored Harper's. Rhade had discovered that he picked up several quite human traits from the crew, among which sarcasm was at the top of the list.
"Preliminary scans indicate sixty bio-signs," Andromeda blinked into existence on an adjacent screen. "ten in the cockpit and fifty in the cargo hold."
"Guess you guys got your answer," Beka called from the First Officer's council. "It looks like it's a slave ship."
"Captain, there's something else," the ship's avatar addressed Dylan. "Further readings indicate that only one of the bio-signs is still alive. The others are dead."
"Cause of death?" asked Dylan. Rommie closed her eyes as she processed the incoming data. After a moment, she responded.
"Radiation leak. The levels are not drastically high, however they would be lethal to most species without proper protection."
"It must have leaked so slowly that by the time they realized there was a problem, it was too late," Trance commented sadly. "What about the one that's still alive?"
"The location is within the cargo hold. It's most likely one of the slaves," Andromeda replied. "Life signs are weak and failing. Whoever this person is, I doubt he can survive much longer in that environment."
"Agreed," Dylan turned to his crew. "It's too dangerous to bring that ship here; I don't want radiation all over my ship. However if there's any chance to save this person, we have to act fast. Rhade, assuming something were to go wrong with an EVA suit, would you be okay in there?"
"Not for an extended period of time," the Nietzschean replied. "But long enough to retrieve the survivor, if that's what you're referring to."
"You read my mind," Dylan nodded. "Take Beka and a pair of EVA suits and get whoever is still alive off that ship. This way if something goes wrong with the suits, you'd still be able to get them out."
Telemachus chanced a glance at Beka, half expecting her to protest being sent on another mission with him. But the first officer kept quiet. After the mission with the bio-armor, Beka had resigned her right to complain. In fact she thought Telemachus would be the one to object, but he also remained silent.
"As I mentioned, the body is in the cargo hold," Andromeda said as her two senior officers prepared to leave. "The radiation is interfering with my sensors so I can't give you more specific information."
"Great," Beka muttered under her breath. "Get out the shovels 'cause we're going digging through forty nine dead bodies before we find the one that's still alive." With that she turned on her heal and headed for the hanger bay.
* * * * * * * * * *
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
* * * * * * * * * *
The inside of the transport was much more intact than one would have guessed by simply looking at the outside. The internal systems were for the most part fully functional. Clearly it took much more time for radiation to affect mechanical systems than biological ones. The occupants were not nearly as lucky as their ship.
Upon entering, Rhade looked to his right at the sealed cockpit. Even through the partially foggy helmet, he could still make out the stream of crimson blood seeping through the space under the door. He looked away. To the left lay the doors of the cargo hold, which were slightly ajar as a crack spilled down the section were the two massive plates met. After fumbling with the control panel for a minute, Beka finally convinced the internal computer to open the door.
As the heavy plates slid aside both Commonwealth officers gasped as a pile of bodies tumbled out of the cargo hold. Rhade stepped over them, pushing others aside. The faces of the dead slaves were frozen in masks of horror. Bleeding from every pore in their body. No doubt as soon as they felt the effect of the radiation, they poured towards the door, begging their captors for release. Unfortunately their cries feel on deaf ears. Beka watched as an expression of deep disgust spread over Rhade's face. He couldn't blame him. While Telemachus knew that slavery was a common practice in several cultures, including certain Nietzschean prides like the Drago-Kazov, he had rarely witnessed the full extent of the atrocities until now.
"How could people do this to each other?" he whispered through clenched teeth, a question more to the cold unforgiving universe than to Beka.
She gave him a sympathetic look. "Hatred, fear, need to survive: sometimes it brings out the worst in people."
"There is no excuse for this!" the Nietzschean shot back.
"I know," she agreed. "Let's just see if we can find the survivor."
Rhade looked around one more time and pulled out his bio scanner. A dull blimp indicating the life sign pointed to a corner of the hold, and he motioned for Beka to follow him. A minute later, they dug through a pile of dead bodies to reveal a little boy. He was dirty wearing torn cloth which were clearly too big for his thin frame. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth.
"Looks bad," Beka commented, "but nothing that can't be taken care of back on the Andromeda. I wonder how he's alive."
"There," Rhade pointed at the boy's arms. Following his gesture, Beka saw the short fractured bone blades lining each of the child's forearms. This, of coarse, was the answer to the mystery behind his miraculous survival. If the boy was Nietzschean, he was much more resilient to the effects of the radiation. However he was nowhere near okay.
"We've got to get him back," she repeated, desperation building in her voice.
At that second both turned at a lour creaking sound coming from the direction of the doors. The metal plates let out a moan and began to slide together. The controls must have failed and any mechanism holding them together had shut down. The doors were now loose. Rhade quickly sprang to his feet, wedging his body between the loose plates of metal. Even with the failed mechanism and his Nietzschean strength, it was difficult to hold the masses apart.
"Hurry!" Telemachus gasped. "Snapping out of her pity educed trance, Beka quickly picked up the child cradling him against her body and ran through the still ajar doors. With a sharp exhale, Rhade released the plates and they came together behind him with a loud crash.
As they made their way to the airlock of the doomed ship, the boy stirred in Beka's arms. His eyes opened and for a split second deep brown met clear blue and the starship pilot could almost read his pain. A trembling hand reached out to touch her cool helmet.
"Pretty," he whispered, then lapsed back into darkness.
* * * * * * * * * *
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Invictus
By: Bella Pilyavskaya
Chapter 1
"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul,"
* * * * * * * * * *
"The Divine Comedy." That was the title of the book. Not "The Birth of Tragedy," "Daybreak: Reflections on Moral Prejudices," "Beyond Good and Evil," or any other book by the long dead human philosopher, Nietzsche. Telemachus Rhade had discovered that after reading many of Nietzsche's works once as an adolescent and yet again as an adult, he had no guilt about picking up something else to satisfy his literary curiosity. After all, he reasoned, how could he grow and improve with such a narrow perspective of the universe. Telemachus was the kind of man who silently observed others, listened to their views, and then followed his own instincts. It was the same liberal frame of mind that allowed him to work well with all Andromeda crewmembers, regardless of the species. Well, almost all.
The only crewmember who seemed to give him trouble with her passive aggressive behavior was the ship's First Officer, Beka Valentine. He knew full well that her past encounters with other Nietzscheans, more specifically Tyr Anasazi, was the reason behind her hostility. Rhade had hoped that they could be friends, however after the incident with the bio- armor, he had set that notion aside. Close association with someone who attempted to rip out one's heart did not serve to further one's survival. His ribs still felt it every time he took a deep breath.
"Telemachus," Rhade looked up from his book to see Andromeda's holographic avatar appear in front of him. "Captain Hunt called for all senior officers to come to command."
"I'll be right there," he replied, placing the book back on the shelf.
* * * * * * * * * *
"In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed."
* * * * * * * * * *
As Telemachus entered command, his dark eyes immediately focused on a small beat up transport barely half the size of the Maru. There was nothing terribly unusual about the ship, but Rhade didn't recognize the design. His brow furled in suspicion. There was something about it... It clearly posed no threat to the Andromeda, so why would Dylan have taken an interest in it?
"What's going on?" he asked Harper. The young human stood in a corner opposite of the screen, hands folded over his chest. By the look on his face, Rhade could tell that he wasn't the only one bothered by the transport.
"Unmarked ship," Harper jerked his head in the direction of the monitors. "Best case scenario: thieves or smugglers. Worst-case scenario: slavers or assassins. And when was the last time we got the best case?"
"Wonderful," the expression on the Nietzschean's face mirrored Harper's. Rhade had discovered that he picked up several quite human traits from the crew, among which sarcasm was at the top of the list.
"Preliminary scans indicate sixty bio-signs," Andromeda blinked into existence on an adjacent screen. "ten in the cockpit and fifty in the cargo hold."
"Guess you guys got your answer," Beka called from the First Officer's council. "It looks like it's a slave ship."
"Captain, there's something else," the ship's avatar addressed Dylan. "Further readings indicate that only one of the bio-signs is still alive. The others are dead."
"Cause of death?" asked Dylan. Rommie closed her eyes as she processed the incoming data. After a moment, she responded.
"Radiation leak. The levels are not drastically high, however they would be lethal to most species without proper protection."
"It must have leaked so slowly that by the time they realized there was a problem, it was too late," Trance commented sadly. "What about the one that's still alive?"
"The location is within the cargo hold. It's most likely one of the slaves," Andromeda replied. "Life signs are weak and failing. Whoever this person is, I doubt he can survive much longer in that environment."
"Agreed," Dylan turned to his crew. "It's too dangerous to bring that ship here; I don't want radiation all over my ship. However if there's any chance to save this person, we have to act fast. Rhade, assuming something were to go wrong with an EVA suit, would you be okay in there?"
"Not for an extended period of time," the Nietzschean replied. "But long enough to retrieve the survivor, if that's what you're referring to."
"You read my mind," Dylan nodded. "Take Beka and a pair of EVA suits and get whoever is still alive off that ship. This way if something goes wrong with the suits, you'd still be able to get them out."
Telemachus chanced a glance at Beka, half expecting her to protest being sent on another mission with him. But the first officer kept quiet. After the mission with the bio-armor, Beka had resigned her right to complain. In fact she thought Telemachus would be the one to object, but he also remained silent.
"As I mentioned, the body is in the cargo hold," Andromeda said as her two senior officers prepared to leave. "The radiation is interfering with my sensors so I can't give you more specific information."
"Great," Beka muttered under her breath. "Get out the shovels 'cause we're going digging through forty nine dead bodies before we find the one that's still alive." With that she turned on her heal and headed for the hanger bay.
* * * * * * * * * *
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
* * * * * * * * * *
The inside of the transport was much more intact than one would have guessed by simply looking at the outside. The internal systems were for the most part fully functional. Clearly it took much more time for radiation to affect mechanical systems than biological ones. The occupants were not nearly as lucky as their ship.
Upon entering, Rhade looked to his right at the sealed cockpit. Even through the partially foggy helmet, he could still make out the stream of crimson blood seeping through the space under the door. He looked away. To the left lay the doors of the cargo hold, which were slightly ajar as a crack spilled down the section were the two massive plates met. After fumbling with the control panel for a minute, Beka finally convinced the internal computer to open the door.
As the heavy plates slid aside both Commonwealth officers gasped as a pile of bodies tumbled out of the cargo hold. Rhade stepped over them, pushing others aside. The faces of the dead slaves were frozen in masks of horror. Bleeding from every pore in their body. No doubt as soon as they felt the effect of the radiation, they poured towards the door, begging their captors for release. Unfortunately their cries feel on deaf ears. Beka watched as an expression of deep disgust spread over Rhade's face. He couldn't blame him. While Telemachus knew that slavery was a common practice in several cultures, including certain Nietzschean prides like the Drago-Kazov, he had rarely witnessed the full extent of the atrocities until now.
"How could people do this to each other?" he whispered through clenched teeth, a question more to the cold unforgiving universe than to Beka.
She gave him a sympathetic look. "Hatred, fear, need to survive: sometimes it brings out the worst in people."
"There is no excuse for this!" the Nietzschean shot back.
"I know," she agreed. "Let's just see if we can find the survivor."
Rhade looked around one more time and pulled out his bio scanner. A dull blimp indicating the life sign pointed to a corner of the hold, and he motioned for Beka to follow him. A minute later, they dug through a pile of dead bodies to reveal a little boy. He was dirty wearing torn cloth which were clearly too big for his thin frame. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth.
"Looks bad," Beka commented, "but nothing that can't be taken care of back on the Andromeda. I wonder how he's alive."
"There," Rhade pointed at the boy's arms. Following his gesture, Beka saw the short fractured bone blades lining each of the child's forearms. This, of coarse, was the answer to the mystery behind his miraculous survival. If the boy was Nietzschean, he was much more resilient to the effects of the radiation. However he was nowhere near okay.
"We've got to get him back," she repeated, desperation building in her voice.
At that second both turned at a lour creaking sound coming from the direction of the doors. The metal plates let out a moan and began to slide together. The controls must have failed and any mechanism holding them together had shut down. The doors were now loose. Rhade quickly sprang to his feet, wedging his body between the loose plates of metal. Even with the failed mechanism and his Nietzschean strength, it was difficult to hold the masses apart.
"Hurry!" Telemachus gasped. "Snapping out of her pity educed trance, Beka quickly picked up the child cradling him against her body and ran through the still ajar doors. With a sharp exhale, Rhade released the plates and they came together behind him with a loud crash.
As they made their way to the airlock of the doomed ship, the boy stirred in Beka's arms. His eyes opened and for a split second deep brown met clear blue and the starship pilot could almost read his pain. A trembling hand reached out to touch her cool helmet.
"Pretty," he whispered, then lapsed back into darkness.
* * * * * * * * * *
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.