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A/N: Right, guess that last chapter wasn't all that riveting, but now we're starting to get to what I like to call 'the actual attempt at a plot'! So get with the reviewing! Please? Pretty please?
A/N 2: I felt I should add some more to this chapter... if you don't want to read the whole lot again, the new bit starts after '...Morgan, and his ship..."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------
Interlude:
The closer they got, the more it hurt. He'd wanted to get away from the people who knew him. The people who could take one look at him and know how far he was from getting over what had happened. What use was a happy face if everybody kept seeing through it? Now it seemed like this was turning into the same old thing. Trance had been nice to him. In another world maybe, another life, he wouldn't have been so cold with her, but he really didn't want anyone to feel sad for him. One set of sadness was enough. Better then to keep to the feelings of strength. Hardness. Hoping it might rub off on him.
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Chapter Seven: Lock, stock and one non-smoking gauss gun
It was late evening by the ship's clock when there was a knock at Tyr's door. Tyr put down his book and looked up.
"Enter."
The door slid open and Milon's white head became visible in the doorway.
"Hey… can I come in?"
He made a gesture that told Tyr he was not as composed as he would like Tyr to believe. So what was it he wanted?
"If you must."
Tyr closed the book, put it aside and followed Milon with his eyes as he walked into Tyr's quarters, looking around.
"What do you want?" Tyr said.
"Well, I told you I'd show you something… whoa, that's a lot of guns!"
Milon stopped in front of the collection of firearms.
"Do not touch anything."
There was a warning edge to Tyr's voice, letting Milon know that he was being serious.
"Relax! I won't break anything."
In the few seconds it took him to say it, Tyr got up off his chair, took a step over to him and grabbed his arm before it could reach its target. He closed his fist around skin and bone, hard enough to leave a bruise.
"I said do not touch anything! What is wrong with you boy?"
"Ow! Let go!"
Milon tried to pull his arm free, but without success.
"What are you doing here?" Tyr asked, letting him go.
"I dunno. I'm bored. Do you wanna see the light thing or not?"
He walked away, over to the armchair where Tyr had been sitting and dropped down into it. Tyr scanned his collection quickly to see that no weapon was missing, and then he walked over and looked down at Milon.
"Can you dim the lights?" Milon asked.
"Rommie, lights at fifty percent."
The room was shrouded in a soft half-light. It was of no inconvenience to Tyr; he had excellent vision even in weaker light than this. Of course that also meant that his eyes were more sensitive to bright light. He was fully aware of the fact that Milon could temporarily incapacitate him with a blinding flare. Somehow, he felt certain that it was not his intentions this time.
As Tyr stood there, looking at Milon, he saw a faint shimmer on his face. Like light reflected off water. It grew in strength gradually, lightening Milon's already pale skin until it looked like it was no longer skin, but dimmed crystal with a pure, white light inside. Tyr could only sit down on the edge of the table and stare. The light kept growing stronger, illuminating the whole room with its misty glow. Just as it was starting to get a bit too bright for Tyr's comfort, Milon eased down on the light until it only remained as an afterglow on his skin.
"There, happy now?"
Milon smiled at him, the last of the shine lifting from his face.
"Impressive…" Tyr said.
He was being honest. It had been impressive.
"Thanks! You're all flattery, aren't ya? Right, I've shown you… will you do something for me now?"
Tyr crossed his arms.
"What?"
"Will you teach me how to use a gun? I've never really been a fan, but I figure that if I'm gonna be some kind of intergalactic explorer, I should prepare myself a bit."
"You have never used a firearm?"
"Well, not really used… and definitely not any like these! These are like Star Wars guns or something!"
Tyr did not understand his reference, but he understood the essence of it. Still, he could not help but wonder why the boy kept seeking him out. Surely, if he wanted to learn how to handle a gun, there were people who were more… approachable than him.
"Why me? Why not your new friend Harper?"
"Well… you seem to know your stuff. Besides, I like hanging out around you."
"Why is that?"
Tyr asked the question with a frown. A fairly amused frown. Milon jumped up and walked over to the gun cabinet again. This time Tyr did not get up to prevent him from touching the weapons.
"I dunno… maybe 'cause you really do remind me of a mate of mine. Your whole 'I'm so bad, nothing can touch me' attitude. Maybe that's like a challenge to me. And you're strong, mentally I mean. Maybe I just need to be around that right now…"
His comments were getting increasingly strange. Tyr got up and walked over to the shelf, picking up his gauss gun. Holding it up in front of Milon, he said:
"This is a basic weapon. I will show you how to use it… tomorrow. Now go back to your own quarters, it is late."
"Not sleepy. You dying to get rid of me, huh?"
Tyr could not fight a thin, slightly evil grin as he looked the boy right in the eyes and said:
"Would you rather sit down and tell me who engineered your genetical code, and for what purpose?"
The small bit of colour on Milon's face drained. He looked as if Tyr had just charged up the gun he was holding and put it to his temple. For a second Tyr almost felt… sympathy for him.
"No…" he whispered.
"Some kind of military operation? Are you a spy? A terrorist?"
"No."
Milon looked down, shaking his head. He looked ashamed now. All the glittering mischief was gone from his eyes. He looked much the same as he had, hanging in chains on that wall in the bloodsplattered warehouse. Insecure. Afraid. Without really knowing why, Tyr put his hand on the boy's shoulder and spoke in a low voice:
"Then what is it? Tell me."
Milon would not look at him, and when he started to speak his voice was quiet and hesitant.
"Harper told me about you, y'know. About Nietzscheans in general, I mean. The way you're so totally geared to survival and passing your genes on and everything, no matter what the cost. About how important it is to you who your ancestors were and what they did... well, I don't have any parents... I don't have any relations at all. How would you feel if you found out that everyone you thought you knew, everything you fought for, or against, in your whole life was just... fake?"
"How can it be fake? You are standing here, living, breathing, is that not real?"
Tyr did not understand. Milon just looked at the floor, unhappily. The floor that suddenly tilted. Tyr staggered backwards and reached out to push Milon away before he slammed into him. The floor tilted again, this time in the opposite direction, and Tyr almost lost his balance.
"Andromeda, what is going on?" he called.
"We are under attack by an unknown vessel."
Again. He was starting to get tired of this. He stuck the gun in holster on the side of his right leg and ran out the door. Milon followed him. Good. He certainly did not want the kid snooping around his quarters while he was gone.
They ran through the trembling corridors, filled with the flashing red light of the alarm.
"You think it's them again?" Milon shouted over the sound of resonating metal and the persistent siren.
"To whom are you referring?"
"You know! Them! Those people you think it's my fault they're attacking us! Those people who want to capture me and..."
Tyr stopped so suddenly that Milon ran right into him. Tyr grabbed him by both shoulders and stared at him.
"And what? Want to capture you and what?"
Milon stared back with slightly panicky eyes.
"And... y'know... hurt me."
"Yes. I am almost certain that these are the exact same people."
The tremors through the ship seemed to have finally ceased as they reached the command deck, just in time to hear Rommie say:
"Incoming message."
"On screen."
The picture of a man in his late forties appeared on the screen. He was dressed in the same kind of scruffy, brown clothes as the people that Tyr had seen chasing them on Earth. So how did a poor excuse for a human like this, from a slave planet like Earth, get his hands on a high-tech, battle class starship that obviously also must have a slipstream drive if they had managed to follow the Andromeda all the way from the little blue planet? With no introduction whatsoever, the man said:
"You have something which belongs to us and we want it back!"
Dylan gave the man one of his standard sarcastic smirks, gave the attacker the whole commonwealth introduction, and continued:
"And you believe that opening fire on us with no previous attempt at contact will be the best way to get what you want?"
"Those were merely warningshots. If we wanted to destroy you, we would not be having this conversation."
Dylan laughed. Rommie looked insulted. Milon only looked frightened.
"May I ask who I am speaking to?" Dylan finally said.
"Captain Morgan of the Vertex. Now hand over the stolen goods or we will be forced to go into battle with you."
"Well, considering we've already blown one of your ships out of the sky, you seem a bit eager to start a conflict. Besides, I have no idea what stolen goods you are referring to."
"A Genie slave which you stole from us on Earth!"
"Freeze transmission."
Dylan turned around slowly and looked at Milon. Milon took a step back, into Tyr. Tyr fought the instant reaction of pushing him away and instead stepped back, leaving him some space. During the second or so Milon's body had been against his, he had felt him trembling. He could still smell the fear. He took another step back.
"Milon?" Dylan said.
"Don't…" Milon begged, "Don't hand me over to them! They won't shoot us down, that would mean killing me! They won't. Please don't hand me over…"
"Who are they?"
"I don't know! I think they're from… from another dimension. All I know is they want me for something… something bad."
"Another dimension?"
"Yes… I think they're… channellers or something. They might have crossed over... I don't know!"
"Their ship is amazingly advanced," Rommie said, "I have no way of correctly calculating our chances against them in battle. The last ship we fought was much, much smaller. This one must be the mothership. Clearly, last time, they were not aware of our battle capabilities either."
"But they are now…" Dylan said, "Resume transmission."
"So, have you decided?" Morgan said.
"Yes. We are representatives of the Commonwealth, not slave traders. I refuse your demands."
Morgan's face contracted in anger. Seconds later the transmission was broken. An eerie silence filled the bridge as the alarm suddenly went quiet.
"They are… leaving?" Rommie said.
"I doubt that it is them taking no for an answer," Dylan said, "Continue on our present course."
"We should be entering the system in twenty-three hours," Rommie said.
"Good. Until then, see how much you can find out about this Morgan, and his ship…"
Dylan had not even had time to finish the sentence before Rommie cut him off:
"A small shuttle has been deployed from the Vertex. It is headed straight towards us."
"I have a missile lock on them," Tyr said.
"Hold you fire!"
"Captain Hunt…"
"It is too late," Rommie said, "Their close proximity to us, compared with the speed they're travelling at, it would be too dangerous to open fire."
"It would not have been too late had I acted immediately," Tyr said under his breath.
"The shuttle has docked at my airlock on the observations deck," Hologram Rommie said, "They are attempting to override the doors."
"Perhaps we should go and meet them…"
They picked up their weapons and ran towards the observation deck.
The airlock opened just as they reached the room. Ten men came running in, guns in hand, aiming straight at them. There was a sudden standstill as Dylan, Beka Tyr and Rommie all pointed their force lances at them. The one who appeared to be the leader of this sorry little troop pointed at Milon and spoke up:
"That is our Genie slave! Hand him over immediately or we will open fire."
"No," was all Dylan said.
Okay, so it was Tyr who started it. It was clear that they meant what they said. He had waited for Dylan's word when it came to shooting down the shuttle, and look where that had got them. He was through waiting. He fired his force lance straight to the chest of the one who had spoken. The others immediately returned his fire. A battle had broken out.
It did not really last that long, but as always, time seemed to slow down for Tyr. He noticed every detail as his whole being concentrated on surviving and defeating his enemies. Scattered beams of energy were flying back and forth through the air. The fight had quickly moved into the corridors where there was cover to take. Tyr did not know how Beka and Dylan were doing, they were around a corner from his view. The android, he did not really care about. And Milon, where was Milon? Tyr spun around as an explosion in the wall behind him caused sparks to fly. Suddenly he saw Dylan running towards him, dodging the enemy fire. He was being chased by three of the enemies. Tyr aimed carefully and fired over his shoulder at the attackers who fell to the ground, smoking holes in their chests.
"How many left?" he asked.
"Two, three maybe."
The sound of gunfire behind him and they ran back out onto the observation deck just in time to see two more of the Vertexans fall for Beka's gun.
"I think that's them all," she said as silence fell over the room, "Oh no…"
Tyr followed her eyes over to a corner where Rommie's body lay motionless on the floor.
"Rommie…"
"I'm okay... nothing Harper can't fix..."
The voice had a slightly metallic echo to it. Dylan and Beka started walking across the room. Tyr counted five bodies on the floor near them, excluding the android. Three in the corridor… and their leader, over by the door. So then…
Tyr spun around as a shot was fired behind him. He could feel the heat of it going past his ear. Surely the intruders could not be such bad shots? Then the man fell forwards, the gun clattering across the floor, blood rapidly forming a large pool around his face. Behind him, Milon squatted down and wiped the blood off his knife on the man's jacket. He looked up at Tyr and gave him a trembling smile. He sounded more than a little shook up as he said:
"Hey Tyr, wanna call it even?"
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A/N: Right, guess that last chapter wasn't all that riveting, but now we're starting to get to what I like to call 'the actual attempt at a plot'! So get with the reviewing! Please? Pretty please?
A/N 2: I felt I should add some more to this chapter... if you don't want to read the whole lot again, the new bit starts after '...Morgan, and his ship..."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------
Interlude:
The closer they got, the more it hurt. He'd wanted to get away from the people who knew him. The people who could take one look at him and know how far he was from getting over what had happened. What use was a happy face if everybody kept seeing through it? Now it seemed like this was turning into the same old thing. Trance had been nice to him. In another world maybe, another life, he wouldn't have been so cold with her, but he really didn't want anyone to feel sad for him. One set of sadness was enough. Better then to keep to the feelings of strength. Hardness. Hoping it might rub off on him.
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Chapter Seven: Lock, stock and one non-smoking gauss gun
It was late evening by the ship's clock when there was a knock at Tyr's door. Tyr put down his book and looked up.
"Enter."
The door slid open and Milon's white head became visible in the doorway.
"Hey… can I come in?"
He made a gesture that told Tyr he was not as composed as he would like Tyr to believe. So what was it he wanted?
"If you must."
Tyr closed the book, put it aside and followed Milon with his eyes as he walked into Tyr's quarters, looking around.
"What do you want?" Tyr said.
"Well, I told you I'd show you something… whoa, that's a lot of guns!"
Milon stopped in front of the collection of firearms.
"Do not touch anything."
There was a warning edge to Tyr's voice, letting Milon know that he was being serious.
"Relax! I won't break anything."
In the few seconds it took him to say it, Tyr got up off his chair, took a step over to him and grabbed his arm before it could reach its target. He closed his fist around skin and bone, hard enough to leave a bruise.
"I said do not touch anything! What is wrong with you boy?"
"Ow! Let go!"
Milon tried to pull his arm free, but without success.
"What are you doing here?" Tyr asked, letting him go.
"I dunno. I'm bored. Do you wanna see the light thing or not?"
He walked away, over to the armchair where Tyr had been sitting and dropped down into it. Tyr scanned his collection quickly to see that no weapon was missing, and then he walked over and looked down at Milon.
"Can you dim the lights?" Milon asked.
"Rommie, lights at fifty percent."
The room was shrouded in a soft half-light. It was of no inconvenience to Tyr; he had excellent vision even in weaker light than this. Of course that also meant that his eyes were more sensitive to bright light. He was fully aware of the fact that Milon could temporarily incapacitate him with a blinding flare. Somehow, he felt certain that it was not his intentions this time.
As Tyr stood there, looking at Milon, he saw a faint shimmer on his face. Like light reflected off water. It grew in strength gradually, lightening Milon's already pale skin until it looked like it was no longer skin, but dimmed crystal with a pure, white light inside. Tyr could only sit down on the edge of the table and stare. The light kept growing stronger, illuminating the whole room with its misty glow. Just as it was starting to get a bit too bright for Tyr's comfort, Milon eased down on the light until it only remained as an afterglow on his skin.
"There, happy now?"
Milon smiled at him, the last of the shine lifting from his face.
"Impressive…" Tyr said.
He was being honest. It had been impressive.
"Thanks! You're all flattery, aren't ya? Right, I've shown you… will you do something for me now?"
Tyr crossed his arms.
"What?"
"Will you teach me how to use a gun? I've never really been a fan, but I figure that if I'm gonna be some kind of intergalactic explorer, I should prepare myself a bit."
"You have never used a firearm?"
"Well, not really used… and definitely not any like these! These are like Star Wars guns or something!"
Tyr did not understand his reference, but he understood the essence of it. Still, he could not help but wonder why the boy kept seeking him out. Surely, if he wanted to learn how to handle a gun, there were people who were more… approachable than him.
"Why me? Why not your new friend Harper?"
"Well… you seem to know your stuff. Besides, I like hanging out around you."
"Why is that?"
Tyr asked the question with a frown. A fairly amused frown. Milon jumped up and walked over to the gun cabinet again. This time Tyr did not get up to prevent him from touching the weapons.
"I dunno… maybe 'cause you really do remind me of a mate of mine. Your whole 'I'm so bad, nothing can touch me' attitude. Maybe that's like a challenge to me. And you're strong, mentally I mean. Maybe I just need to be around that right now…"
His comments were getting increasingly strange. Tyr got up and walked over to the shelf, picking up his gauss gun. Holding it up in front of Milon, he said:
"This is a basic weapon. I will show you how to use it… tomorrow. Now go back to your own quarters, it is late."
"Not sleepy. You dying to get rid of me, huh?"
Tyr could not fight a thin, slightly evil grin as he looked the boy right in the eyes and said:
"Would you rather sit down and tell me who engineered your genetical code, and for what purpose?"
The small bit of colour on Milon's face drained. He looked as if Tyr had just charged up the gun he was holding and put it to his temple. For a second Tyr almost felt… sympathy for him.
"No…" he whispered.
"Some kind of military operation? Are you a spy? A terrorist?"
"No."
Milon looked down, shaking his head. He looked ashamed now. All the glittering mischief was gone from his eyes. He looked much the same as he had, hanging in chains on that wall in the bloodsplattered warehouse. Insecure. Afraid. Without really knowing why, Tyr put his hand on the boy's shoulder and spoke in a low voice:
"Then what is it? Tell me."
Milon would not look at him, and when he started to speak his voice was quiet and hesitant.
"Harper told me about you, y'know. About Nietzscheans in general, I mean. The way you're so totally geared to survival and passing your genes on and everything, no matter what the cost. About how important it is to you who your ancestors were and what they did... well, I don't have any parents... I don't have any relations at all. How would you feel if you found out that everyone you thought you knew, everything you fought for, or against, in your whole life was just... fake?"
"How can it be fake? You are standing here, living, breathing, is that not real?"
Tyr did not understand. Milon just looked at the floor, unhappily. The floor that suddenly tilted. Tyr staggered backwards and reached out to push Milon away before he slammed into him. The floor tilted again, this time in the opposite direction, and Tyr almost lost his balance.
"Andromeda, what is going on?" he called.
"We are under attack by an unknown vessel."
Again. He was starting to get tired of this. He stuck the gun in holster on the side of his right leg and ran out the door. Milon followed him. Good. He certainly did not want the kid snooping around his quarters while he was gone.
They ran through the trembling corridors, filled with the flashing red light of the alarm.
"You think it's them again?" Milon shouted over the sound of resonating metal and the persistent siren.
"To whom are you referring?"
"You know! Them! Those people you think it's my fault they're attacking us! Those people who want to capture me and..."
Tyr stopped so suddenly that Milon ran right into him. Tyr grabbed him by both shoulders and stared at him.
"And what? Want to capture you and what?"
Milon stared back with slightly panicky eyes.
"And... y'know... hurt me."
"Yes. I am almost certain that these are the exact same people."
The tremors through the ship seemed to have finally ceased as they reached the command deck, just in time to hear Rommie say:
"Incoming message."
"On screen."
The picture of a man in his late forties appeared on the screen. He was dressed in the same kind of scruffy, brown clothes as the people that Tyr had seen chasing them on Earth. So how did a poor excuse for a human like this, from a slave planet like Earth, get his hands on a high-tech, battle class starship that obviously also must have a slipstream drive if they had managed to follow the Andromeda all the way from the little blue planet? With no introduction whatsoever, the man said:
"You have something which belongs to us and we want it back!"
Dylan gave the man one of his standard sarcastic smirks, gave the attacker the whole commonwealth introduction, and continued:
"And you believe that opening fire on us with no previous attempt at contact will be the best way to get what you want?"
"Those were merely warningshots. If we wanted to destroy you, we would not be having this conversation."
Dylan laughed. Rommie looked insulted. Milon only looked frightened.
"May I ask who I am speaking to?" Dylan finally said.
"Captain Morgan of the Vertex. Now hand over the stolen goods or we will be forced to go into battle with you."
"Well, considering we've already blown one of your ships out of the sky, you seem a bit eager to start a conflict. Besides, I have no idea what stolen goods you are referring to."
"A Genie slave which you stole from us on Earth!"
"Freeze transmission."
Dylan turned around slowly and looked at Milon. Milon took a step back, into Tyr. Tyr fought the instant reaction of pushing him away and instead stepped back, leaving him some space. During the second or so Milon's body had been against his, he had felt him trembling. He could still smell the fear. He took another step back.
"Milon?" Dylan said.
"Don't…" Milon begged, "Don't hand me over to them! They won't shoot us down, that would mean killing me! They won't. Please don't hand me over…"
"Who are they?"
"I don't know! I think they're from… from another dimension. All I know is they want me for something… something bad."
"Another dimension?"
"Yes… I think they're… channellers or something. They might have crossed over... I don't know!"
"Their ship is amazingly advanced," Rommie said, "I have no way of correctly calculating our chances against them in battle. The last ship we fought was much, much smaller. This one must be the mothership. Clearly, last time, they were not aware of our battle capabilities either."
"But they are now…" Dylan said, "Resume transmission."
"So, have you decided?" Morgan said.
"Yes. We are representatives of the Commonwealth, not slave traders. I refuse your demands."
Morgan's face contracted in anger. Seconds later the transmission was broken. An eerie silence filled the bridge as the alarm suddenly went quiet.
"They are… leaving?" Rommie said.
"I doubt that it is them taking no for an answer," Dylan said, "Continue on our present course."
"We should be entering the system in twenty-three hours," Rommie said.
"Good. Until then, see how much you can find out about this Morgan, and his ship…"
Dylan had not even had time to finish the sentence before Rommie cut him off:
"A small shuttle has been deployed from the Vertex. It is headed straight towards us."
"I have a missile lock on them," Tyr said.
"Hold you fire!"
"Captain Hunt…"
"It is too late," Rommie said, "Their close proximity to us, compared with the speed they're travelling at, it would be too dangerous to open fire."
"It would not have been too late had I acted immediately," Tyr said under his breath.
"The shuttle has docked at my airlock on the observations deck," Hologram Rommie said, "They are attempting to override the doors."
"Perhaps we should go and meet them…"
They picked up their weapons and ran towards the observation deck.
The airlock opened just as they reached the room. Ten men came running in, guns in hand, aiming straight at them. There was a sudden standstill as Dylan, Beka Tyr and Rommie all pointed their force lances at them. The one who appeared to be the leader of this sorry little troop pointed at Milon and spoke up:
"That is our Genie slave! Hand him over immediately or we will open fire."
"No," was all Dylan said.
Okay, so it was Tyr who started it. It was clear that they meant what they said. He had waited for Dylan's word when it came to shooting down the shuttle, and look where that had got them. He was through waiting. He fired his force lance straight to the chest of the one who had spoken. The others immediately returned his fire. A battle had broken out.
It did not really last that long, but as always, time seemed to slow down for Tyr. He noticed every detail as his whole being concentrated on surviving and defeating his enemies. Scattered beams of energy were flying back and forth through the air. The fight had quickly moved into the corridors where there was cover to take. Tyr did not know how Beka and Dylan were doing, they were around a corner from his view. The android, he did not really care about. And Milon, where was Milon? Tyr spun around as an explosion in the wall behind him caused sparks to fly. Suddenly he saw Dylan running towards him, dodging the enemy fire. He was being chased by three of the enemies. Tyr aimed carefully and fired over his shoulder at the attackers who fell to the ground, smoking holes in their chests.
"How many left?" he asked.
"Two, three maybe."
The sound of gunfire behind him and they ran back out onto the observation deck just in time to see two more of the Vertexans fall for Beka's gun.
"I think that's them all," she said as silence fell over the room, "Oh no…"
Tyr followed her eyes over to a corner where Rommie's body lay motionless on the floor.
"Rommie…"
"I'm okay... nothing Harper can't fix..."
The voice had a slightly metallic echo to it. Dylan and Beka started walking across the room. Tyr counted five bodies on the floor near them, excluding the android. Three in the corridor… and their leader, over by the door. So then…
Tyr spun around as a shot was fired behind him. He could feel the heat of it going past his ear. Surely the intruders could not be such bad shots? Then the man fell forwards, the gun clattering across the floor, blood rapidly forming a large pool around his face. Behind him, Milon squatted down and wiped the blood off his knife on the man's jacket. He looked up at Tyr and gave him a trembling smile. He sounded more than a little shook up as he said:
"Hey Tyr, wanna call it even?"
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