A/N: No, that wasn't the end! Of course it wasn't, how do you write ends? Finishing stories isn't my strongest point... but we'll get to that later. First I've two chapters left to post, this one and then another. After that... well, it might just be time to ask you guys for some input, plot wise... Right, this chapter, what can I say? You think I could've left him out, but no... No, there's no getting away from certain people, as Milon should well know by now... Oh yeah! Website updated! Have to make with shameless plug! www.continue.to/brinkofmadness but now you have to click the blue ball instead of the pentagram... there have been more updates than that... no, honestly! And I guess I don't need to say it, but I will anyway: Write a review! Please... just to let me know if you think this thing has spiralled totally out of control, or is there still some hint of a plot there? I don't know anymore... I just don't know... :-)
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Chapter Thirteen: We've got company!
"I'm receiving a hail from a small, unregistered vessel coming from Earth," Rommie said.
"Spacecab?" Beka asked.
Spacecabs was the common term for privately owned ships, sometimes stolen freighters, sometimes illegally bought fighterships, which were used by the owner to ship passengers over relatively short distances for a much larger fee.
"Yes, it looks like it."
"On screen."
The transmission came through and the Spacecab pilot said in an overly confident tone:
"Andromeda, I've a customer for you. Permission to dock?"
"Well, that depends on who your customer is," Dylan answered.
"You know I can't tell you that! Client confidentiality and all that. Now do you want him or will you pay my shipping charges in his place?"
These Spacecabbers made up their own rules and expected everybody else to follow them. They usually did not take on clients with a criminal record though. Only if they paid very well.
"I assume you have screened for weapons?" Dylan asked.
"Am I telling you how to do your job? Of course I screened! Now, what's it to be?"
The pilot was getting impatient. Tyr thought locking the missiles on him might just give him the general idea, but to his frustration Dylan said:
"Permission granted."
"Terriffic," the pilot said without a trace of enthusiasm, "Have a nice day."
The transmission ended and Dylan turned to Tyr.
"Do you feel like taking a trip down to the airlock to greet our new guest?"
"On my way."
Tyr checked that his force lance was securely fastened to his belt and made his way to the airlock on the observation deck.
The inner door opened, letting out some steam. A man stepped into the room and the door shut again behind him. If it had not been for him wearing a short sleeved shirt, thereby letting Tyr observe the obvious fact that he was lacking the bone blades, Tyr would have put money on him being a Nietzschean. He looked to be in his early thirties, he was only an inch or two shorter than Tyr, and not that far off in stature either. He was white, quite pale, but his hair was truly black, tied up at the back, with a single white streak running from his right temple all the way to the ends. But it was more than his physical appearance; it was the way he moved with such nonchalant confidence, the way he looked around in that unimpressed, vigilant way, and most of all it was his gaze. It met Tyr's with such intensity that Tyr instantly knew that he was no plain human. At least no more than Milon was. His eyes were black too. Not dark brown like Tyr's but pure black, like the space between the stars. He did not need to ask this man to introduce himself.
"Would you be Pitch by any chance?" Tyr said.
The man raised his black, knifeshaped eyebrows.
"Who's asking?"
Yes, he had the same accent as Milon. Tyr studied him amusedly, thinking of how Milon had told Tyr how much he reminded him of this man.
"I am Tyr Anazasi, security officer aboard this ship."
"Aha. Where's Milon?"
Straight to the point. Tyr however did not intend to rush things so much.
"Andromeda," Tyr said, "is he armed?"
Rommie's hologram flickered on next to him. She looked Pitch up and down and said:
"He is not carrying any external weapons. I do however detect two sets of cybernetic implants on his upper arms, most likely some kind of strenght enhancing devices. I cannot tell the level at which these implants operate and I am hence unable to determine whether they should be classed as weaponry or not."
"He is a cyborg?"
"No, the extent of his cybernetic implants is not sufficient for that classification. He is human with limited, mechanical enhancements."
Pitch just stood there quiet during the exchange. He did study the hologram of Rommie briefly, but then his eyes returned to Tyr. Tyr could see mistrust and some hostility in his eyes. Pitch repeated:
"Where is Milon? I want to see him."
There was a sharper quality to his voice now. Tyr could see in his eyes that he was beginning to get impatient. Good. Just as he had instantly found there to be something quite pleasant about Milon, he just as instantly disliked this man. It was hard to imagine them as friends. Milon was still sleeping on the medical deck, but Tyr decided not to tell Pitch that just yet.
"Are you listening to me?" Pitch said in a soft, ice-cold voice.
He was staring Tyr in the eyes, and suddenly Tyr could tell that this man was a killer. Maybe not a cold-blooded, remorseless killer, but it was obvious that men had fallen for his hand before. Well, that was another thing they had in common then. Tyr felt wary, all his insticts told him to be careful. There was something in the way he was looking at Tyr that made him feel that this man was more of a threat even than he seemed. Tyr knew that it was completely illogical, not to mention out of character, but he actually felt a little afraid.
"I hear you," Tyr said, "however that does not mean that I am going to entertain your request."
"I'm just asking you where he is! What's your problem?"
"Captain Hunt," Tyr said over the comlink, not breaking eye contact, "the visitor is displaying distinct hostile tendencies. I recommed that we put him in the brig until we have time to deal with his… demands."
"If you think it's necessary," Dylan said.
Tyr drew his gun. Pitch sneered at him, but offered no resistance as Tyr grabbed his arm and started leading him towards the brig.
"You're making a mistake," was all he said.
To Tyr it sounded like enough of a threat to warrant this treatment.
After having left the… guest in the brig for Dylan to deal with, Tyr made his way back to the medical deck to see if Milon was awake. As he entered, he found that the boy was still sleeping. He stood next to the bed watching him for a short while, contemplating whether to wake him up or not. Then Milon made his decision for him by opening his eyes and yawning.
"Hey Tyr… what's up?"
He sat up and swung his legs over the side, pulling the blanket up around him.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"Yeah. Still a bit tired, but I'll be okay."
Tyr nodded. Then he said:
"You have a visistor."
Milon frowned and looked at him with a question in his eyes.
"Your friend."
"What? What are you talking about Tyr?"
"What is it you call him, Pitch?"
Milon smiled like he thought Tyr was making fun of him, but the smile was sliding off his face like it had been slapped on with cheap glue.
"You're joking, right? He couldn't be here… no way."
"Well, he is. He came on a small shuttle vessel from Earth, just ten minutes ago."
"So… where is he? Why didn't you bring him down here?"
"He displayed hostile tendencies. I put him in the brig."
Suddenly Milon burst out laughing.
"You put Pitch in the brig? Oh, Tyr, way to make an enemy!"
He was laughing at Tyr? Laughing like Tyr was a child who had done something incredibly comical because he did not know any better. It was making Tyr furious. Strangely enough, his fury was more directed at Pitch than Milon. He was just about to say something harsh, when the door opened and Dylan's voice floated into the room:
"Tyr! Why didn't you tell me the visitor was a friend of Milon's?"
Tyr turned slowly around and saw Dylan and Pitch walking into the room. Dylan was wearing a frown, like Tyr had embarrassed him by having him authorise Pitch's confinement. Tyr supposed he had in a way, but still he did not regret for a second what he had done.
Pitch did not even acknowledge his presence with so much as a look, he just walked over to Milon and looked down on him where he was sitting on the bed. When he spoke to Milon, his voice was light and good-humoured.
"Hey Snowflake, how's it going?"
"What are you doing here?"
Milon sounded like he thought he might be seeing things. He was smiling at Pitch, but there was something hesitant in his face. Tyr stood back and watched the interaction with interest.
"I'm here for the weather stupid, what d'you think?" Pitch said sarcastically.
"But how? How did you find me?"
"Think about it."
"Oh... the coordinates were still in the channeller... but then? How'd you find me from Earth?"
"I asked around... Hey, doesn't matter, does it? I'm here now."
He certainly was. Tyr stepped up to the bed and said to Milon:
"If you feel sufficiently rested, I think it is time that you had that talk with Captain Hunt."
Milon nodded. Dylan, who were standing inside the door, walked forward, saying:
"Well, Milon, I have decided to offer you a place aboard the ship. I think that your skills could be quite valuable in diplomatic negotiations and I would like to see you become our new ship's counsellor."
Milon gave him his most honest smile, the one Tyr knew actually reflected a true feeling. Milon exchanged the briefest of glances with Tyr and said to Dylan:
"Thanks! I really appreciate that. I'd love to stay."
"Great!" Dylan said, looking even more pleased with himself than ususally.
Then he turned around and walked out of the room. Tyr suddenly happened to catch a glimpse of Pitch's face. It was like chiseled out of ice, the twin circles of blackness that passed for his eyes looked like they might actually cause Milon some puncture wounds.
"What are you playing at?" he asked quietly.
"Pitch... I'm not going back there. I can't... please understand."
Milon had a pleading look on his face, as if he had to ask permission like a little child. It grated on Tyr's nerves. He had seen how ferocious the boy could be, he did not like this submissive streak in him.
"Understand? What, that you wanna stay with this circus? On my way down here I saw a purple chick! For god's sake Miles, purple! And what's the deal with that guy's arms?"
He made a sideways nod in Tyr's direction. Tyr felt a dark, angry, rumbling sound work its way up his throat. Pitch turned his head and stared at him with a scornful look on his face.
"You're growling at me? What they call you, Dober-Man?"
"I am a Nietzschean!"
Tyr took a couple of long steps towards him.
"What's that, a cross between a Neanderthal and an Alsatian?"
"Pitch!"
Milon gave up a shocked laugh. Tyr did not understand the full reference, but he understood that Pitch had just insulted him in the grossest, and that was really all he needed to know. He went to grab a hold of him, but Milon flew off the bed and threw himself in the way, hindering Tyr, although he could barely stand.
"Hey! Let's not, okay? Tyr, I'm sorry, he's rude!"
He punched Pitch on the shoulder in mock reproach. Pitch just laughed and threw his arm around Milon's shoulder in a friendly gesture. He was not asked to remove it. Completely ignoring Tyr he said:
"Miles, listen to me, EterniVision's gone. Your contract's gone. You don't have to take off to the other side of the universe... Besides, you're not well yet. Not really."
"I'm fine. I mean it Pitch, I'm not going back there."
Milon looked into his friend's eyes. Then Pitch let him go, shook his head and said:
"You haven't got a choice. Mel is gonna pull us out tomorrow... you've been gone a week from home, so I guess however long you've been here, divided by seven, that's how long you've got left."
"I'm not going."
"Miles, I've come a very fucking long way to get you, and you give me this shit?"
"I'm sorry..."
Milon lowered his eyes. Pitch shook his head angrily. Tyr felt like grabbing him by the throat and throwing him out the nearest airlock. But it was none of his business.
Pitch turned around and started walking towards the door. Tyr made a move to stop him. Not because he wanted him to stay and talk to Milon, but because he was definitely not about to let this stranger roam around unattended in the corridors. However, Milon beat him to it. He blocked Pitch's way, staring at him in an almost panicky fashion.
"No! You can't do this! You've no right to do this!" he shouted.
"It's already done. You know how it works."
"Yes and I know I don't have to go! When the rift opens, I'm not going through!"
He was reminding Tyr even more of a rebellious child, the way he was standing with his hands knotted into fists at his side even though it looked like his legs might fail him any second. Why did he act like this? Why not simply do what he had said and not go through when the time came? Pitch looked at him coldly and said:
"Then I'll make you."
He pushed Milon aside and continued towards the door. Milon reached out, desperately, and grabbed his shoulder. Pitch spun around, his hand raised to strike. Tyr could see the smallest flinch in Milon's stance, but he did not really recoil however and Pitch stopped his hand before it hit the target. It seemed to take a lot of self control.
"No!" Milon said, but Tyr could hear more pleading than resolution in his voice.
Milon tried to take a step towards Pitch, but his legs would not carry him anymore and gave way. Tyr quickly stepped forward and caught him before he hit the floor.
"You are going back in bed right now," Tyr said, scooping him up.
"I'm fine," Milon tried, "put me down..."
He did not sound fine. Tyr lay him down on the bed and stepped back. Pitch walked over to the bed with a hint of concern on his face.
"Miles," Pitch was back to using his soft voice, "Mel and Jo miss you. Everyone does. The company is going down the toilet, which is great, but it's just not the same when you're not there to enjoy it with us…"
"Don't," Milon said, "I can tell when you're doing it. It won't work, not this time…"
Tyr could not help wondering what it was he could tell was being done to him.
"Maybe we can talk about this in private?" Pitch said with a not-so-subtle glance at Tyr.
"I don't know..." Milon started, but was interrupted by Rommie's voice over the speakers:
"Tyr, please report to the Command deck."
She always picked the best of times. Tyr frowned but after a moment's hesitation left and made his way upstairs.
The Vertex was still hanging immobile in the sky at a distance, shining like a star when the Sun's rays hit the hull. They had received no further hails and no more attacks had come. Still, it was obvious that there must still be some people onboard. Tyr had not seen Morgan in the warehouse, and Lillian had mention about five hundred of her people had crossed over. Up until now they had only seen about fifty or so. The rest must be on the ship.
"I don't like the way they're just sitting there," Beka said, "It's like they're waiting for something."
"Maybe they're trying to rebuild the machine and come after Milon again," Dylan answered.
"We should shoot them down once and for all," Tyr muttered.
"It's too dangerous," Dylan said, "An unprovoked attack would not be a good idea, especially if they don't know we have Milon on the ship."
"So what do you suggest? That we ignore them and leave?"
"No... they're planning something... I'm just not sure what it is yet."
"So we're just going to sit around here and wait then?" Beka said, "Well, I suppose I could get used to the idea of a little unscheduled holiday!"
"We also have the new... problem to attend to," Tyr reminded them.
"You mean Pitch? Yes, he is certainly complicating matters somewhat. Although he did tell me that he would be 'pulled out' shortly, back to his own dimension. I suppose that means that we might lose Milon as well..."
Dylan scratched his chin and looked like he was deep in thought. The realisation dawned on Tyr and he punched his fist into the palm of his hand, cursing himself for not having seen it immediately:
"That is what they are waiting for! When the portal between the dimensions open, they will almost certainly try to get through!"
"Of course! Tyr, get Pitch, we have to find out exactly when this is going to happen!"
Sure. Tyr could do that. Most definitely. And if Dylan decided to hold this Pitch character at least partly responsible for the great danger they might just be put in, that would not be so bad either. Tyr made his way down to the medical deck.
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