"Screw that," she thought angrily to herself. This wasn't her fault. If anyone at all had anything to explain, it was Tyr. Although of course, Tyr wasn't there, so she had to do the explaining for him. Typical.
"Beka, what…" Dylan took a few steps towards her, but she was saved by two pursuing guards finally crossing around the corner. The apparently friendly Nietzschean put his arm in front of her for protection, and although she wanted nothing more than to see her pursuers dead by her hand, she did accept the support. Dylan and Rommie quickly lined up, and shot the two Nietzscheans down.
"Andromeda," Beka called out desperately, "are there any more of them left on the ship?" The hologram appeared before her, amusingly untouched in contrast to the rest of them.
"None," she confirmed. "The other pursuing Nietzschean ships seem to have gone back where they came from."
"That means it won't be long until he knows where I am," Beka whispered. Before she could react, she felt Dylan's arms envelop her with a sigh of relief.
"You have no idea how much we've worried," he murmured in her ear. "Trance said…we thought you were dead." She carefully put her arms around him, but winced as she realised her boneblades were now skimming his back. A gasp from Rommie made him pull apart from her, grabbing hold of her wrist and staring, speechless, at her arm. "What has he done to you?" Dylan growled. "What are these…prosthetics?"
"No, Dylan, they're…"
"Never mind, Beka, it doesn't matter, we'll remove them. I need to let…let Harper know you're back, he'll be…I'll tell you what, we'll throw a party! Or maybe you'd rather do that tomorrow? Maybe just something quiet…"
"Dylan!" Beka exclaimed, tears starting to brim her eyes, whether from happiness, melancholy or frustration she wasn't sure. "I need to speak to you. In private." Dumbfounded, he nodded.
"Yes, of course," he mumbled, "of course." He led her into the nearest room, which happened to be unused crew quarters. She sat down on the stripped bed and started pulling pins out of her hair in frustration.
"Dylan, it's not as simple as you think," she replied. "He's done a lot more to me than just added some prosthetics."
"What are you talking about?"
"Tyr," she cried. "Egotistical, self-appointed master of the universe Anasazi! He decides he wants something, and he's having it. At any cost. No matter who gets hurt in the process." Dylan sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a concerned look.
"What did he do to you, Beka?" She took a deep breath, but yet her voice didn't seem to want to work properly.
"He re-sequenced my DNA," she whispered eventually. Either Dylan hadn't heard her, or he was too shocked to react. She was willing to bet on the latter. "He wanted it all, Dylan. He…he's always wanted me, I guess. Only, as long as I was human he couldn't have me. Racist, chauvinist pig…only he still had to have everything he wanted, didn't he? So…he had to change me. I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but I think…I think it was a long time." Dylan appeared to have finally caught his breath back.
"You mean he actually…made you Nietzschean?" She nodded. "I can't believe that's possible."
"It is," Beka confirmed. "The way he explained it was; Nietzscheans are only genetically enhanced humans, so with enough genetic engineering any human could turn Nietzschean. I think he had a perseid do it." She swallowed. "I could never forgive him for what he's done to me…and yet he expected me…he expected me to fall in love with him. He was even willing to keep me locked up until I did. Sure, I had five-star accommodation, even servants, but…I was a prisoner. Until I agreed to marry him."
"You've…" Dylan took a deep breath and swallowed. "You've actually married him?" He looked at her arm for a double helix, and she shook her head quickly.
"No," she said, "I only agreed to do it. I said…I'd announce it at his ball. It was the first time I was let out in public…"
"That explains the clothes."
"I escaped during that ball. I had some unexpected help…from one of the women assigned as my servant. She was telling me…how I shouldn't leave; at first I thought she was protecting Tyr…but then…" Beka frowned. "She started sounding like Trance. She said…about the universe, having consequences beyond…never mind. It's just the Nietzschean superiority complex. Anyway, when I resisted, she helped me escape." They were both silent for a few moments, before Dylan stood up.
"We have to go back." Her eyes widened.
"What?"
"Beka, after what he did to you…we can't let him get away with it!" She shook her head quickly.
"No, Dylan, please…leave it. I can't risk him taking me back, I can't." It seemed almost as if he hadn't heard her, his fists clenching and his brow furrowing.
"I'll kill the bastard, I'll…"
"Dylan…"
"Blow his self-righteous Nietzschean head…"
"Dylan, please!" she cried out, tears running down her cheeks. He looked at her, looking just aroused from a dream, or as if he'd only now realised she was there. She looked at him, her eyes pleading. "Please. I'm so scared." Swiftly, he pulled her up and held her in his arms, so tight as if he believed she'd disappear otherwise.
"Me too," he whispered in her ear. "Me too."
