I don't own anything of this stuff.
Was written in response to a challenge Natta and I have come up with over at ExIsle: what are they doing on the Andromeda when they're not busy saving the universe?
Set at the beginning of S 3, sometime inbetween after Mad to be Saved and Cui Bono.
Irresistible
It was an eerie feeling . He had been back onboard the Andromeda Ascendant for about 3 minutes and he already missed them. On his way to his quarters Dylan Hunt couldn't help to thank the Divine once more for the good fortune of having managed to convince them all to join his crew. Now that they were in orbit around Terrazed, where he had just successfully concluded the talks about the distant colony founded way back by the survivors of his former crew becoming not only a new member, but the seat of power of the Restored Systems' Commonwealth, they had all left for shore-leave, all of them due back not before next week.
Tyr was away, ‚on personal business'. Dylan already dreaded to even think about what the consequences of his trip would be: Drago's bones, the Sabra-Jaguar deal, the destruction of the Orca Pride... Whenever he went off-ship, their resident Nietzschean liked to keep rather busy.
Harper and Trance were gone to Infinity – surfing, watching birds and gathering more plants, that were by now starting to slowly expand out of Hydroponics. (Not that Dylan wanted to complain about it, but all recreation and common rooms onboard were slowly getting crowded – while he had already as many permanent green guests as there were corners available in his office and in his living quarters. And he strongly suspected the situation with the rest of the crew to be not much different.) Rommie was still planet-side, brushing up the last subtle paragraphs and codicils to the treaty. And Beka was... He actually had not the faintest idea about where Beka was.
„Andromeda!" he asked. When there was no answer he felt a slight cold feeling creeping up his spine. That was odd. And of all oddities he could think of, Andromeda not responding to him was certainly ranking top on his list of least recommendable occurrences. „Andromeda!" he tried anew. There was nothing but silence meeting him. He sped up his pace, periodically trying to get an answer from his mute ship. By the time he had reached Command he was running as fast as his legs could carry him, his heart racing along in his chest.
"Andromeda, dammit, what's the matter? Talk to me!" he barked, literally bursting in through the doors to the bridge.
"Nice to see you, Captain!" The Andromeda's holographic image appearing next to him nearly let him jump out of his skin, causing him to lose his footing and slide into the rail. He came to a halt through a painful connection of his hip-bone with the cool, polished metal that made him double over.
"Oh, shit!" he hissed out sharply, rubbing the hurting spot and panting. Raising his eyes, Dylan finally shot her an angry look, ignoring her disapproving frown. "Just what the hell is going on? Why didn't you answer me?"
"I have privacy mode engaged," the ship informed him calmly.
"I hailed you about ten times all the way from hangar-deck 15," Dylan told her in a reproachful tone. The hologram nodded:
"I'm on privacy mode ship-wide."
Her captain stared at her dumbfounded.
"Ship... ship-wide?" he then stammered in the end. "Why... I mean, what?... When?... Who?"
"About two hours ago, authorisation First Officer Captain Rebbekah B. Valentine." Andromeda's even tone did not display so much as an ounce of irony. Dylan watched her furiously.
"One of these days this woman is going to be the death of me," he muttered under his breath. "Where is Beka?"
"Sorry, Captain, can't tell you."
"What do you mean, you can't tell me?"
"Privacy mode?" the hologram inquired in the friendly tone one might use while speaking to a somewhat retarded child.
"Well then disengage privacy mode, dammit! Authorisation captain Dylan Hunt."
"Privacy mode disengaged," the docile ship answered him.
"So now again: where is Beka?" Dylan scanted insistently.
"Captain Rebbekah Valentine is currently on deck 3, Captain."
The High Guard officer looked puzzled, scrutinising his ship's image with an expression swaying between disbelief and incomprehension.
"Deck 3? What's she doing on deck 3? There is nothing there..."
"Well, technically this is not correct..."
"Yes, I know, I know," the captain interrupted her impatiently. "The water tanks, but what would she be doing with the water tanks?"
"Inspecting them?" Andromeda offered lightly.
"The water tanks?" Dylan asked back in an incredulous, ironic voice. "What would she be inspecting there? Never mind..." he hurriedly threw in before she could answer, "I'll go check myself." And with that he left Command with rushed, long strides, marching right through the Andromeda's hologram.
-
He didn't bother climbing down the ladder to the lower deck, but just sled down the metal rails, his boots making a nasty noise when connecting with the deck below them.
"Wow! Dashing!" The amused voice made him whirl around.
"Beka!" he exclaimed.
"Dylan!" she retorted mimicking his tone.
Leaning back against the ladder the captain of the Andromeda gave his XO a long, weighing gaze.
"Beka, are you all right?" he finally asked, satisfied to see that his quick check showed him nothing apparently wrong with her.
"Of course! Why do you ask?"
"Because when I got back there was ship-wide privacy mode engaged," he explained, concern in his voice. "Because Andromeda informed me that you were down here..."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I was bored..."
His eyes narrowed.
"You were bored..." he repeated after her, dragging the words out. "And so you thought that a nice stroll through deserted corridors with sealed doors leading to tanks filled to various degrees with water will provide you with the much needed thrill," he concluded in a sarcastic tone.
"Something like that, yeah..." she said, grinning broadly up into his face. He frowned.
"Beka!" By now Dylan began to sound almost exasperated. "What for the love of God were you doing here?"
"I was... I was inspecting." And then, before he could ask again, she graciously began to climb up the ladder, gently swinging her hips on her way up – and right in front of Dylan's nose. He was quite aware that she was just trying to distract him. And that her tactics worked.
"So," Beka finally asked him, linking arms with him while they were slowly walking to Command, "how did it go?"
Another distraction. And another one that was working impeccably. Dylan felt himself relaxing while a broad, satisfied grin was breaking in on his lips. His eyes shining brightly, he looked down to her, smiling happily like a little boy who had just brought home his first flawless grammar test. She couldn't help but smiling back at him, her joy as well as her pride evident in her eyes. Giving a small yelp and jumping up at him, she threw her arms around his neck and let herself be swirled around in his arms.
"But how...?" she inquired, after coming to a halt, both of them a bit breathless.
"Unanimously," he answered, his grin even broader upon seeing his XO's eyes growing large.
"Tri-Chrennikov?" she asked incredulously. He nodded:
"She agreed within 24 hours."
"And Tri-Jamahl? I mean, she was so angry because of Benzion's schemes..."
A shadow passed for a moment on Dylan's features, but then he smiled again.
"She reconsidered."
"And even Tri-Rhade...?" the captain of the Eureka Maru could not believe her ears. Gently taking her arm, he resumed their walk.
"She too reconsidered; Majorum Rhade, out of Eirene by Bogdan is a very smart woman."
Again Beka stood still. Watching her Dylan saw her lightly shaking her head and smiling.
"You and your way with women! Lucky us, that all three triumvirs happened to be... madam triumvirs," she said slightly chuckling. "How do you do that, Dylan?"
For a single moment he stood still, simply looking at her. And then he smiled again.
"You want to know that?"
"Oh yes, I want to know it."
"You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!"
"And you think I'll tell you?"
"Yeah, I think you will!"
"Maybe today's your lucky day..." he teased.
"Is it?" she shot back.
"You know what? You got it. I will tell you. Or better still: I'll show you!" Turning around and back into the direction they came from, Dylan took her hand and began to walk at a swift pace, dragging Beka along behind him.
"Hey, Mister, where are you taking us?"
"My quarters," he said impatiently.
"Your quarters?" Beka exclaimed. "Dylan, you're not... you're not planning something... you know... compromising?"
"Maybe just a little compromising..." he laughed.
"Dylan!... I don't think I want to get even a little compromising with people here onboard..."
"Unless of course they're Nietzschean," he muttered lowly, throwing her a look back. "Beka, don't fret! It's not that compromising. Trust me!"
"Trust him! He says trust him..." the pilot repeated softly under her breath. But by the time she finished they had already reached the captain's quarters. Letting go of her hand Dylan marched right through the doors and to the left, disappearing into his adjacent kitchen. Still standing on the threshold Beka peered inside, looking after him.
"Dylan?" she asked vaguely.
"Come on, into the kitchen," she heard his voice muffled by a lot of jingling of metal and glass.
She followed the noise to the doors linking his living to the cooking area each private quarter onboard the Andromeda was equipped with. Puzzled, she noticed Dylan standing in front of a counter, thrashing some suspicious looking items into a bowl.
"What are these?"
"Eggs," he answered her.
"Those are eggs?" Beka sounded unconvinced. The tall man looked at her surprised.
"Surely you've seen eggs before..." he said, crashing the last one of the five small ovals into the bowl and disposing of the shells. Not waiting for her answer, he poured a powdered mass down onto them.
"125g of finely ground almonds..." he explained, adding: "and 100g of sugar..." A fine, white rain followed suit. "Now you just have to mix them. So: never seen eggs before?" he inquired once more.
"I've seen eggs before," Beka affirmed defiantly, sounding a bit offended. "They just... looked different..."
Dylan laughed again.
"You've seen them scrambled!"
"Well..."
He shook his head.
"Have you ever used your kitchen, Beka?"
"I... I'm making coffee," she announced, slightly embarrassed. "What are you doing there?"
Leaving the bowl alone, Dylan began to slowly stir a brownish mass in a pot.
"I'm melting 200g of dark chocolate with 125g of butter."
Beka gasped.
"Dark chocolate? That is worth a fortune!"
"We have a huge stockpile of it onboard the Andromeda," he informed her quietly, concentrating more on his pot.
Her eyes went wide.
"Really? Where?"
Dylan looked up and threw her a glance from the side, his eyes dancing with amusement.
"Deck four," he answered softly with a lopsided grin. "Just imagine what you would have found, had you just taken your inspection only one deck further..."
She frowned, but didn't take the bait.
"And now? What are you doing now?"
"I'm buttering a form," Dylan answered lightly. He then picked up the melted chocolate and gave it into the bowl, starting to mix it all. "And now the chocolate... There! That's it!" he said, smiling triumphantly. He carefully poured the entire mass into the form and shoved it into the oven.
"I warmed it up previously, 220°," he informed her. Beka's eyes were glued on the dirty dishes. Following her gaze, Dylan stuck his index finger into the bowl, picking up some chocolaty mass with it and licking it up with pleasure. "We have to wait for about 20 minutes," he informed her, holding out to her the bowl, that seemed to hypnotise her. "Wanna clean it up?"
She snatched the bowl from him, picked up a little spoon and started to eagerly scrape the pot. Laughing, he motioned her to follow him into the living room. For the rest of the time they sat around comfortably, Dylan telling Beka the details of the new treaty with Terrazed, while she nodded whenever she thought he might expect it, her attention completely focused on the bowl. Some twenty minutes later he excused himself and went into the kitchen, reappearing shortly with two plates displaying each a handsome piece of still warm chocolate cake. Carefully he sat his plate down on the sideboard behind him, turning towards Beka, who held her hands out, smiling as happy as a child awaiting a favourite toy. But then, when the plate had almost reached her hands, Dylan suddenly stopped and held it up above his head.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Beka exclaimed indignantly.
A mischievous smile adorning his lips, Dylan bowed towards her, the hand with her plate still up high above his head.
"If you attack me, tickle me or do some other move along these lines, I'll drop it," he warned her in a soft voice. "Now, what were you doing on deck 3?"
"Dylan..."
"Miss Valentine, it's either you tell me what you were doing there, with privacy mode engaged ship-wide or..."
"Or...?" Beka asked him, sounding a bit breathless while the aroma of the cake was tickling her nose.
"Or you can kiss your chocolate cake good-bye," Dylan concluded sweetly.
"Dylan, please..."
"What were you doing on deck 3, Beka?"
Searching his eyes with a lost look in her own, then gazing up longingly at the plate still far above her head, she finally let her shoulders sag a little forward and uttered a sound quite similar to a miserable little whimper, letting her head drop.
"I... I went for a swim..."
"You what?" he inquired, sounding more than startled.
"I was swimming!" she repeated, lifting her head and looking angrily at him. "I was bored, you refuse to let Rommie make us a pool in one of the empty cargo bays, there was no-one else onboard and Andromeda can recycle the water afterwards. What is the big deal?" she asked him stubbornly.
A grin plastered all over his face, Dylan shrugged.
"No big deal. Why didn't you just tell me?"
She shrugged, her expression still belligerent, but with a smile lurking deep in her eyes, as well.
"Now what?" she then asked him frowning.
The plate descended right into her hands.
"Now we eat our cake and then..." he hesitated, but then continued boldly: "In the mood for another swim?"
And while Beka nodded, digging into her cake with a happy grin, Dylan sat down on his sofa next to her and picked up his own, smiling and slightly shaking his head.
"See?" he chuckled softly. "I got my way with you..."
"Ththturtck?..." Beka muffled, her eyes leaving her plate for a fraction of a second to stare at him incredulously.
"Sorry?"
She swallowed, licked her lips like a satisfied cat and tried anew:
"You mean, that's your trick?"
He nodded:
"Chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. Never fails," he concluded, in a conspiratorily manner.
Beka went for another mouthful and closed her eyes in pleasure.
"It's a very good trick!"
Dylan couldn't help smiling at her enthusiasm.
So far there's no-one, really not one! who ever resisted this chocolate cake, he thought. Thank you, Mom!