BIRTHRIGHT 3 – THE LADY OF THE LAKE
by Soledad
Rating: age 14 and above
Archiving: "Otherworlds" and my website. Everyone else: please, ask first.
Disclaimer: Andromeda is the product of Gene Roddenberry's creative genius. All rights belong to the various TV companies that currently keep them – it tends to change, so it's hard to follow. Nevertheless, I don't earn any money by writing this.
FOREWORD
Please read it, even if you find this sort of thing boring. It'll save us future complications. Thank you.
This is the third instalment of my Andromeda AU-series "Birthright". Reading the first two would help enormously to understand the background. But for those who don't want to do so (your loss, folks) here is a short summary.
Birthright 1 – The Assignment takes place on Sinti IV entirely, shortly after the 1st Season episode To Loose the Fateful Lightning. It shows the Perseid reaction to the freeing of the Andromeda and the destruction of the Dyhedra System, and how Rannveig got his fateful assignment: to find the All Systems University records.
Birthright 2 – The Gathering shifts the focus to Tyr. It starts after the episode Angel Dark, Demon Bright and ends after The Mathematics of Tears. In this story, Tyr reconciles with Freya (who moves in with him aboard the Andromeda), finds a handful survivors of Völsung Pride on the planet Haukin Vora, allies himself with Guderian and the Sabra Pride branch on the Centauris A colony and marries the daughter of that Sabran Pride Alpha. He also marries two of the remaining fertile females of Völsung Pride and mates with the third one. So, at the beginning of this story, he has four wives: Freya (Orca Pride), Mikaelan (Sabra Pride), Derdriu and Finnabair (both Völsung Pride), but only Freya lives with him. He has sired two more children, those of Ayeshwariam (the third Völsung woman) and Abigail El-Hakim, Mikaelan's sister, the chief assassin of the Sabra on Centauris A.
We also learn in "Birthright 2" that the Sabra on Centauris A have repeatedly raided the abandoned High Guard station GS92916. With the data they've collected there and the derelict High Guard ships they've picked up during the last two centuries, they've built a small but impressive fleet for themselves. The sons of Pride Alpha Ezekial El-Hakim and his First Daughter, Abigail, hold all key positions, while his other daughters (like Guderian's First Wife, Deborah), are married off to various allies. Marrying into this cadet branch makes Tyr part of an already powerful alliance.
Tyr has also taken in a pair of Völsung twins, who'd lived as outcasts because – as a result of a genetic experiment gone horribly wrong – they are both damaged (read: incapable of breeding). They are both highly skilled warriors, bound to Tyr by the lifelong Omega oath.
But the most important fact is, that – with the help of the Perseids who had their own designs on the ship but lost – Tyr managed to get his hands on the Pad Magellanic. They succeeded in erasing the core AI and (with the help of cleverly placed explosions) trick Dylan & Co into believing that the ship was indeed destroyed. In fact, however, it was hidden in the asteroid field until Abigail El-Hakim could get to it and tow it to Centauris A, where they could start working on reprogramming the AI and replacing the slipstream drive.
PROLOGUE: PLANS, PLOTS AND CONSIDERATIONS
Author's notes:
The Prologue takes place shortly before the first season episode 'Music of a Distant Drum' and serves the purpose to introduce the reader to the settings. Some previous events are different from canon, as you'll see.
Captain Dylan Hunt, esteemed commander of the last still more or less functioning High Guard warship, the Andromeda Ascendant, and self-proclaimed saviour of a post-Commonwealth era utterly fallen from civilization, was not a happy man. His illusion of recreating his lost paradise while the rustic members of his rag-tag skeleton crew would follow his galactic vision with open-mouthed, doe-eyed awe, turned out like just that – an illusion.
Granted, the Sinti Council of Perseids had agreed to sign his New Commonwealth Chart eagerly enough. But in exchange, they had demanded to have a presence aboard the Andromeda, the 'travelling embassy of the New Commonwealth', as they called the ship. They had sent Technical Director Höhne and his assistant, a young field researcher named Rekeeb. And while Dylan liked Perseids well enough, the perpetual enthusiasm and excited technological chatter of those two really started to get on his nerves. As if Harper alone weren't bad enough.
Beka was even more allergic to them, and not only did she avoid them like the plague but also blamed Dylan for their presence. Which was an idiotic accusation, of course, but Beka wasn't always perceptive to logical arguments – to put it mildly. The only person who genuinely liked the Perseids was Harper – but Harper would enjoy anyone's company who shared his interests, no matter how annoying they were. Besides, the young man, whiz-kid as he might be, could be highly annoying himself, at times, making Dylan have nostalgic thoughts at his chief engineer of old.
The second world to sign the Chart, the Castalian Republic, had made the same demand as the Perseids. They had delegated a water-breather ambassador to the Andromeda, which had resulted in the necessity of turning one of the storage areas near Hydroponics into a huge aquarium, so that the ambassador wouldn't need to spend her entire time in a special suit. Harper had had his field day constructing the thing, of course, but it didn't change the fact that aquarium building required a lot of his valuable time that could have been spent on more important projects. Like updating internal security. Or the armoury. That sort of stuff.
Then there were the Than. The Hegemony was still debating the pros and cons of joining the New Commonwealth, but that had not kept them from planting a small 'hive' – actually, a mating group, for this was how Than worked the best – aboard the Andromeda. The hive contained four Amber Than workers, three Emerald Than warriors, a Ruby Than pilot, a Sapphire Than scientist and an annoyingly self-important Diamond Than as the leader of their group.
Personally, Dylan had nothing against Than. He was used to serve with them, and the bugs were the best slipstream pilots of the known universe. So, he was quite happy to have Glittering Starlight in the pilot's seat. As good a pilot as Beka was, Dylan still trusted more the loyalties of a Than assigned to his ship by the Than government, than those of an independent – and rather self-interested – captain of a salvage ship.
But Born to Starfire, the Diamond Than representative of the royal caste, was a different matter. Dylan just couldn't stand her self-important behaviour. Especially considering the fact that she was in the winning position here – and they both knew that. Sometimes Dylan asked himself earnestly if anyone but Andromeda herself was willing to follow his orders without questioning every single one of them.
Especially with all those Nietzscheans onboard.
2.
Tyr Anasazi on the other hand, out of Victoria by Barbarossa son of Temujin, last survivor of Kodiak Pride, was one extremely content Nietzschean. And he had every reason for that. So far, things had developed better than he could have hoped for.
Shortly after history had re-aligned itself in the Battle of Witchhead, he had decided to contact Freya again and ask her to return to him. During Dylan's unpleasant experience with the Arazian justice on Helios IX, he met her on Meitner Drift and was overjoyed to learn that she was pregnant. With his child. Now he'd finally reached the status every Nietzschean male longed for: that of a husband and father.
Dylan was not happy to have another Nietzschean onboard – and one who had a good enough reason to hate him for the loss of her previous home. But he couldn't deny the fact that he needed Tyr. The Than warriors were good fighters, but their loyalty belonged to their Hegemony in general and their local Diamond leader in particular. Plus, as good as they were at teamwork and following orders, they completely lacked personal initiative. Lower caste Than were just not bred for that.
Tyr, on the other hand, was a one-man-army. As long as he had his pregnant wife – the promise of the new Kodiak Pride – onboard, Dylan could be reasonably certain about his loyalties. Of course, the good captain might have had a little more disturbed sleep if he'd known that Tyr had three other wives waiting for him. Two on Haukin Vora, together with twenty other survivors of Völsung Pride – something Tyr'd be eternally grateful for the late President Lee of Castalia, without whose slip of tongue he'd never managed to find them. And one on the Centauris A colony, who secured him the alliance of a very powerful Pride Alpha. But that was something he wasn't planning to tell his esteemed captain. Not yet, anyway.
Of course, Tyr wasn't the only one with personal agendas for which the Andromeda played a crucial role. Everyone onboard had them, even Harper and Rev Bem. What Tyr had, though, and the others lacked, were strong allies. Ones that stood behind him all the time, supported him, helped him to plot his plans and to ensure his immortality. Before anyone else his First Wife, the mother of his unborn child. But also the two young warriors, bound to him for a lifetime by the sacred Omega oath. And Orca Pride, over which he'd accepted the Rite of Protection, although he left daily business in Guderian's hands. Not to mention the rest of Völsung Pride and his powerful Sabran father-in-law with an entire planet and a fleet under his command.
Yes, he'd come far in the recent months. And he intended to get even further. He just had to play his cards properly.
3.
To say that Beka Valentine was frustrated would have been an understatement. A major one. By now, she was close to the thin line that divided simple frustration from the howling phase. And that with several very good reasons for that.
Quite frankly, her motivations to hire up on Dylan's ship hadn't been entirely altruistic. Dylan's stargazing idea of reconstructing the Commonwealth meant little to her. In her opinion, the Commonwealth had been dead for three hundred years – and good riddance. Sure, a new Commonwealth could provide more safety for the travel routes, but other than that, an organization of such magnitude always meant the invention of rules. Lots of rules. Entirely too many of them for her taste.
What Beka had wanted when she accepted Dylan's invitation to join the then nonexistent crew of the Andromeda, was opportunity. She had a very keen sense for opportunity, and had Dylan listened to her clever economic suggestions, with a ship this huge they could have made business in a great scale. But the spirit that Tyr liked to call 'blind idealism' made Dylan reject her suggestions, so that they could still barely pay for the necessary supplies. Why mining platinum asteroids or transporting cargo for a good price was below Dylan's dignity was something Beka couldn't understand. Must have been that High Guard morality thing again. Unfortunately, morality seldom paid off in the form of cash.
The other source of Beka's frustration was the constant lack of proper male companionship. And things had started so well, with two such excellent male specimens onboard as Dylan and Tyr – who, at that time, were even unbound. And yet, all Beka's efforts to catch their interest were of no use. Dylan was still mourning his lost fiancée, and Tyr, well, he'd just gone and got himself a wife.
That had been the Nietzschean thing to do, and Beka understood that. Theoretically, she also understood that the loss of his fiancée was still a very recent thing for Dylan, despite the three hundred years gone by in the outside world. And yet it was frustrating. As far as she was concerned, Sara Riley had been dead at least as long as the Commonwealth had been gone. It was unfair that one of the finest men she'd ever met would still mourn for a dead woman. When he wasn't sucking face with psychotic blonde androids, that is.
Not that she'd have had any permanent agendas where Dylan was concerned. Nope. Beka Valentine didn't do the tame home-building thing. But she did crave a relationship that would last longer than a few days. And Dylan would have been the ideal candidate for the stable-yet-casual thing. If not for Sara's ever-present ghost. And that frigging High Guard morality.
Even Rommie had realized this – bizarre as the idea of a warship (or her avatar) falling in love with her captain might seem. But Dylan remained just as oblivious of Rommie's feelings (if one could speak of feelings where a warship was considered) as he was oblivious of Beka's interest – or, at the very least, he chose to ignore both.
This was useless, Beka decided angrily. It was time to look for other solutions. Both in the financial and the personal areas. And one of the Castalian representatives might just be the right choice for both.
4.
Tyr was lunging in bed with Freya, feeling supremely content. His plans had almost reached the next phase. All he needed to do was to finish the preparations and wait for his chance, which would arrive soon enough. In the meantime, he could enjoy the closeness of his family. Or at least part of it.
Freya wasn't showing yet, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that she was carrying his child. He wished he could ask Trance to determine the child's gender, but it would have been too much of a risk. He didn't trust the purple girl around his wife. Trust was not a mistake Tyr would allow himself to repeat. He could not put the chance to rebuild Kodak Pride at risk.
Of course, it was possible that Mikaelan and his Völsung wives had caught during his so far only visit as well. But that was an uncertain factor, while Freya's pregnancy was real. Besides, Mikaelan, Derdriu and Finnabair were currently not within his reach. He couldn't be certain about their well-being, despite them being guarded by their families – a fact which he intended to change, and soon. But first he had to do something that was even more important. And should the unlikely happen and he fail, it was better for the rest of Völsung Pride if their connection remained unknown. At least Freya was safe aboard the Andromeda.
Tyr sighed contently, sliding one large hand down to Freya's belly, resting it above the place where their unborn child was slumbering. The future of Kodiak Pride. The key to his immortality.
Freya touched his hand gently and smiled. "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly. Tyr had managed to talk her out of wearing that silly fringe; her golden hair was now pulled back, out of her face, giving her the mature and respectable look of a new Pride Matriarch. Others probably wouldn't find her strong features all that attractive. For Tyr, she was the ultimate beauty.
"The future," Tyr replied. "What has to be done."
"You know what has to be done, don't you?" she raised an expressive eyebrow.
They had to be very careful. They knew the ship kept them under constant surveillance, even with privacy mode engaged. Dylan Hunt knew Nietzscheans too well to trust them. Tyr appreciated that. Only a fool would repeat a mistake that had cost him a three-hundred-year exile in a black hole. Dylan Hunt might have been delusional, but he was no fool.
"I do know it," Tyr answered, "but it is complicated."
"Of course it is," Freya nodded. "All important things are. Options, plans, plots. So many things to weigh, so many conclusions to consider. I wonder, though, if your final decision will still include me."
Tyr rose to one elbow and peered down at her thoughtful face in surprise.
"That's a question you've asked me the first time we were together," he said. "Do you still doubt me? Aren't you my wife, the First of a Pride Alpha? Even though our Pride is not much at the moment, you surely know what that status means."
"I know what the status means," Freya said. "What I still don't know for sure is who you really are. Everything deep loves masks, as the Philosopher says. And you certainly have depths in you. More than most. And hence more masks."
"I take that as a compliment," Tyr said, "but so do you. What you've done for me…your choice…required great courage and deserves admiration. It saddens me that you'd still doubt my loyalty to you." He flexed his biceps under the double helix. "You have been the first to accept me, despite my being without a Pride. You come first. Before all plans and considerations."
"And if I asked you to give up those plans?" Freya asked. "Would you do my bidding and reconsider?"
Tyr thought about that for a moment – then shook his head. "I would like to, if it made you happier," he said, "but I cannot. You know how much is at stake here."
Freya nodded, obviously proud of him. "Of course I know. And I wouldn't respect you anymore if you'd give it all up, just at my request. But I'd never ask you anything like that, now, would I?"
"So speaketh a true Matriarch." Tyr smirked and kissed her deeply. "You want more?"
"You need to ask?" Freya replied coyly, and they initiated another bout of long, slow lovemaking.
5.
In their spacious quarters – formerly those of the Andromeda's chief engineer – Technical Director Höhne and his young colleague, Assistant Field Researcher Rekeeb, were studying slipstream route displays. The reason for having shared quarters was the fact that – aside from working together – they also were bondmates. Perseids rarely formed permanent bonds, being much too self-centered and absorbed in their work for that, but it wasn't entirely unheard of, either.
Rekeeb, considerably younger and rather striking in Perseid terms, had been assigned to the already renowned scientist Höhne several local years ago and had been living in blatant hero worship towards his superior ever since. By working together so closely for such a long time, it seemed only logical to tend to his idol's other needs as well. Sexual intercourse was a matter of purely procreational instinct by Perseids anyway, happening only once in every cycle, and as the resulting children were generally raised by the state, emotional aspects didn't play much of a role – if any at all.
However, during their years of shared work, Höhne, too, had grown fond of his young assistant's intellect, enthusiasm and pleasant nature. Not to mention that Rekeeb was also a sight for sore eyes – those delicate chin ridges alone could trigger the mating heat. So he chose to keep Rekeeb as mating partner over the years, and their acquaintance had already resulted in a handsome number of healthy, gifted children.
This wasn't mating time yet, though – for which Höhne was immensely grateful. Had the mating urge not been limited to approximately ten days in every third cycle, they'd never have any work done. As currently was not that time, they could focus on the task at their hands completely.
"I'm worried about Rannveig," Höhne murmured. "He should have reached the Andromeda before us; four weeks ago, in fact. I hope he hasn't run into any trouble in the Dyhedra system. That place is nothing but a huge field of debris, since those fanatic human children wiped out the entire system."
"Rannveig is resourceful," Rekeeb said soothingly. "He certainly found a way. I only hope he's also found the records you've set him after. If they went down with the Magog worlds in Dyhedra, they'd be lost, forever."
"We can't be sure," Höhne shook his head. "There are always hidden treasures found in the most unlikely places. Although I tend to agree with you in this matter. I don't think they'd have been many copies made of the entire library. If a full record ever existed outside of Tarn-Vedra, that is."
"There are several obvious slipstream routes Rannveig could have taken," Rekeeb highlighted part of the map, "and several less obvious ones. But those would be extremely… risky."
"But less obvious, as you said," Höhne replied. "I'm certain that Rannveig would choose one of those, despite the risks. Plus, he's one of the best slipstream pilots among us."
"Do you know him well?" Rekeeb asked carefully. Höhne shrugged.
"Well enough to assign him to such a… sensitive mission. He used to be my personal assistant when I started my career. We have four children together." He saw Rekeeb's stricken face and shook his head; jealousy was such an uncommon trait for a Perseid. "Rekeeb, it was decades ago! Rannveig is of my age, my children with him are almost as old as you are."
Rekeeb ducked a little, horrified by his own, completely improper reaction. "I know I shouldn't feel like this…it's inappropriate. But I cannot help it; it bothers me greatly that he was part of your life when I could not."
Höhne sighed and patted his cheek affectionately. "That's all right. I'm with you now. And I don't intend to seek out another partner, even though I will have to mingle myself with others after this assignment. Just as you will. That is our way. Now, can we work on these data some more?"
6.
In her quarters near Hydroponics – a twin room that looked as if almost its entire living space would have been taken up by an oversized aquarium, with the entry on top, where also low benches for visitors could be found – Castalian ambassador Rahil Arkazha sat at her desk and checked some important messages on the vid screen. Her equipment was of Castalian design, so it worked perfectly well underwater, just as she used to work on them at home.
The ambassador herself was a squat being, hairless, with rubbery-looking black skin. In her natural environment, she didn't need her respiratory mask that was waiting for her, with other parts of her EV equipment, just outside the room. She had webbed hands and feet; two vertical slits for a nose and no external ears, just holes in the sides of her head; both nose and ear orifices could be closed by special lids. Where the skin was close to bone, on knuckles and feet and under her square jaw, it showed yellow highlights. She wore no clothes, except for some sort of harness holding small implements and tools, to keep them from floating away. She looked like some kind of amphibian, only vaguely humanoid. An outsider would have had a hard time to guess her gender, despite her almost complete nakedness.
Truth be told, she was less than happy with this assignment, but there was nothing she could do about it. Castalia had to be represented aboard the Andromeda, so that vetoes and protests could be filed immediately, and it seemed only logical that one of the water-breather majority would represent the Republic's interests. Nevertheless, she knew that it was her often too outspoken manner that had earned her this particular 'honour'.
Arkazha was a descendant of the original mutations, in the sixteenth generation already, which meant that she was a lot more vulnerable in foreign biotopes than the average Castalian water-breather. Unlike the majority of her modified species, she couldn't spend more than four hours a day out of water, not even in the special suit generally used by her people for this purpose. By this particular offshot, the mutation had gone a little… wild in the first generation. By the next try, people had been more careful. She had the vague suspicion that, whoever had orchestrated her assignment to this ship, might have hoped for an unfortunate accident. Well, she was not going to do them the favour.
However, interacting with the crew – and with her fellow ambassadors – would have been complicated without any help. Fortunately, the Sea-Mother granted her the assistance of Iason: a different mutation than hers and a true blessing all around. While partially a water-breather, Iason's specifically engineered lung/quill system enabled him of staying out of water as long as twelve hours, and he was also a lot less inclined to get that annoying skin irritation in the dry artificial atmosphere of the Andromeda.
During the other half of the day, Iason had to go underwater, too. Out of practicality, they shared Arkazha's 'aquarium', as the ship's young engineer called it. They'd never been anything else than good friends and efficient co-workers, though. Nor did they have the wish to become anything else – the physical differences would have been too great anyway. An opaque screen dividing their quarters provided the necessary privacy. Besides, Castalians were a lot less paranoid about personal space than unmodified humans.
At the moment, Iason was out, making friends with the Than hive. With the Nietzscheans onboard – especially a Kodiak – the Castalians needed allies. And Than could be fiercely loyal, if necessary. Not to mention that they weren't exactly enamoured in the Nietzscheans, either. Arkazha used the time to skim through the most important news. The merge of TransGalactic Shipping with Quantum Express could have a serious impact on Castalian trade. She needed to track down the newly opened trading routes that had resulted from this union. Then she needed some more insider information from the Free Trade Alliance. Maybe Captain Valentine could be of some assistance in this matter, with her brother being an FTA agent. And Beka Valentine used to be an independent businesswoman. She might still be willing to listen to certain… suggestions.
7.
Born to Starfire, the leader of the Than mating group aboard the Andromeda Ascendant, used the absence of her hive-mates for some silent contemplation. Working so closely with sentient mammals, regardless if they breathed air or water, was an interesting challenge. Mammals were primitive, animalistic, and practically incapable of teamwork, unless integrated into a well-organized institution, under the tight control of a strong leader.
On the other hand, their inspired thinking had a touch of genius that Than seemed to lack. At least in these dark times. Born to Starfire remembered watching the old Andromeda vids and seeing the easy confidence of Refractions of Dawn, working alone among a crew of thousands, the overwhelming majority of which had been mammals.
The Diamond Than shook her head regretfully. Although their home systems counted as relatively safe, even in the post-Fall universe, the Than leaders did realize how much they had forgotten during the last three hundred years. They desperately needed to relearn those things, if they wanted to come out of stagnation. The fact that their colony had been helpless against the Nietzschean pirates for more than fifty years was proof enough.
That was the reason why their small hive had been assigned to the Andromeda Ascendant. To learn. To see if Captain Hunt's vision of a new Commonwealth had any merit at all. If it offered a better chance for the Than race to develop and grow than the return to the old ways after the Fall had. That way, though it had helped the Than to survive the dark years, had ultimately led to stagnation. The question was, would joining Hunt's dream offer a way out of it?
Personally, Born to Starfire didn't believe so. But she was a determined to use the opportunity to make contacts and alliances to as many other worlds and races as she could. Castalia and Ornithrone, with their various sentient species, were only the beginning
Born to Starfire was an ambitious individual. She belonged to the small percentage of the Diamond Caste that could be considered by the selection of the next Overdiamond – the supreme ruler of her entire race, the one whom they spoke of as the Hegemon when mentioning her to outsiders. Individuals born with the required abilities to became Overdiamond were extremely rare; at the moment perhaps three dozen or so on all the hundreds of Than planets. They were all registered and carefully monitored, tested in multiple tasks, one of which – perhaps the most important one – was diplomacy.
A fine chime disrupted her thoughts. As she was not only a leader but also the Than equivalent of a priest, it was required from her subjects to request entry in a ritual manner. She gave the clicking tone of permission, and Radiance of Wisdom entered, bowing in respect, her brilliant blue carapace glittering in the dimly lit cabin.
"The Castalian attaché has arrived," the Sapphire Than reported.
Born to Starfire nodded. Radiance of Wisdom was probably the best scholar of their whole settlement – an excellent linguist, with an almost instinctive talent for dealing with artificial intelligences – which was the reason why she had been chosen for this mission. Born to Starfire appreciated her greatly.
"Lead him in," the Diamond Than said and rose.
Yes, this meeting was very important. The Castalians hadn't been friends with the Nietzscheans, no more than the Than had. Making an alliance would be mutually beneficial for them, if they wanted to counteract the growing Nietzschean influence aboard the ship.
She had waited and watched long enough. It was time to make her first move.
8.
In Hydroponics, two vaguely female entities were having a really good time. Trance Gemini, purple from head to toe and more cheerful all the time than any sane human being could have endured for the duration, was trimming her bonsai trees while humming some indefinable melody and bouncing to the rhythm.
Her companion, Farrendahl of Makrai VII, looked like a big, sleek, jet-black cat, aside from her face, which was covered with white fur, making her look as if she wore a mask, and her ears that were more like those of a Terran lynx. She had six fingers on each hand, with sharp claws that she could extend or withdraw by choice, while her feet were similar of those of all other felines. She had huge, yellow eyes with vertical pupils and wore no clothes, save from a utility belt. Her long tail, which she could use as a fifth appendage, was currently curled around her, as she was lying comfortably on the floor, under some exotic tree.
She had come aboard by accident, more or less, having tried to get home from a bio-engineering conference held on El Dorado Drift, for quite some time. And although Makrai VII wasn't among the immediate stops the Andromeda was scheduled to make, she didn't mind it. The Makra seldom left their home planet, but Farrendahl was one of the rare individuals who enjoyed travelling. Meeting previously unknown species was something she found intellectually challenging – and Trance Gemini was certainly something she hadn't even heard of before.
Despite their excellent eyesight – a trait common among felines, sentient or otherwise – the Makra primarily relied on their sense of smell. Smell went beyond the mere surface. Eyes could be fooled easily. A good nose could not. And Farrendahl had an excellent nose, even as Makra go. Therefore, she discovered easily enough that the purple entity was not what she – it – looked. Farrendahl wasn't even sure that Trance Gemini was a she. She had no idea who – or what – Trance was, but she was determined to find out.
Listening distractedly to the cheerful chatter with one tufted ear, she carefully extended her other senses – smell mostly, the most reliable of all, but also that uncanny sixth sense, possessed by Makra only in the known universe, which enabled her to feel the changes in magnetic fields and the vibrations in space. She felt that faint buzz again – that indefinable background noise, like static, she'd only ever felt when around Trance.
Interesting. Very interesting indeed. She couldn't remember any old songs about creatures that would cause this sort of feedback. Having 'listened' to dozens of different species in her life – she wasn't very young in Makra norms – Farrendahl was fairly sure that she had discovered something new…or something very, very old.
It was worth spending some of her time among strangers. Especially since Hydroponics had a pleasing similarity to her warm, wet jungle homeworld.
9.
Seamus Zelazny Harper had become strangely…subdued since the historic events in the Witchhead nebula. Sure, on the surface he was still wearing his overconfident, cheerful mask, praising his own genius by every chance, flirting, wisecracking…the usual. But in the inside…
It was not the fact that the bomb he had built with his own hands had killed a hundred thousand Nietzscheans that really bothered him. The Niets had done nothing else on Earth, after all…had been doing it ever since their arrival, in fact. In a way, Niets were worse than Magog. Magog came, ravaged, killed, maimed, laid their eggs – and vanished again. Niets, on the other hand, came for the duration. Bringing their own sick sort of order – an order that made ordinary humans starving slaves, rape victims, bipedal punchballs – way less than animals.
No, Harper didn't regret having built the fusion catalyst bomb. There were only two things he regretted about the whole affair. Firstly, that all his efforts hadn't changed a thing. He failed his people, big time. Earth still was a hellhole, groaning under the iron boots of the Niets. And secondly, that he, Harper, had become like them: a cold-blooded killer.
All right, it was Dylan who'd given the order. And yes, it was necessary to destroy those Nietzschean ships, or else the Dark Age would have become much, much longer…permanent even. Tyr had admitted that himself, saying that guilt was a wasted emotion. Hell, Tyr hadn't moved a finger to save his own people, preferring to ensure his own survival. And still – knowing that in theory and being the one who handed the Angel of Death its sword of destruction were two different things.
And Harper was lonely. As much as he liked it aboard the Andromeda – and he did like it a great deal; after all, he had a purpose here, acceptance of his skills and creature comfort – he missed the close-knit camaraderie they used to have on the Maru when there still had been only the four of them. They were a family, a weird and often dysfunctional one, but a family nevertheless.
But now? Now Beka was obsessed with Dylan, Trance was busy with her plants and her new friend, Ms Catwoman, the Rev had retreated into a meditative phase, and Harper – Harper was alone.
Dylan had Rommie (thank to the Harper, a fact that was massively under-appreciated), the chinheads had each other, the two fishnecks had their close friendship, Tyr had his wife and the Über twins, the bugs had a whole frigging hive – just the Harper didn't have anyone.
Harper backed out of the access tube. It was late, and he hadn't done much work today, wasting his time with wallowing in good, old-fashioned self-pity. That meant a double shift on the next day, but that couldn't be helped.
He left the machine shop and returned to his quarters. Stripping on his way to the bathroom, he left his clothes lying among the flimsies and spare parts that were scattered all across the place. It didn't matter; his quarters had always been a mess, now that he had enough room to his disposal to create a mess in the first place. Too used to cramped places. Or he was just a slob by design. He didn't really care.
Stepping under the shower, he adjusted the water temperature, so that it became scalding hot. Maybe, if he stood long enough under the hot stream, it would wash away his guilt and his loneliness, too.
TBC