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DISCLAIMER: Really, really wishing they were mine (see blow).

SPOILERS: Takes place post- "The Things We Cannot Change", probably pre- "Belly of the Beast"

IMPORTANT!!!:
"Belly of the Beast" was so close to where I was going with this story that I'm sitting here hoping I can
change the direction so that it doesn't sound like I'm copying! This story has already spiraled completely
out of my control. I think it's going to spiral farther now that I've seen this episode. Enjoy the ride. I
know I will.

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CHAPTER FOUR: THE WASTELAND



Rommie was right about the Dragons. Their fighters opened full-fire the moment the Andromeda exited
the slipstream into the Sarentia system. The force of that much rapid fire that quickly rocked the ship
violently enough for Dylan to lose his footing mid-stride. He was thrown against the wall hard enough to
leave him disoriented and past all hope of recovering gracefully. The doors to the command deck chose
that moment to slide open, and Dylan rolled unceremoniously onto it.

"Dylan!" Rommie was hovering over him before he could begin to pick himself up. As he tried to do just
that, she held him down with a ease. "Hold still," she ordered. Probably the first time she'd ever given
him an order. It was supposed to be the other way around.

"I'm fine." The words didn't come out sounding quite right.

"You're bleeding," Rommie insisted, keeping him firmly rooted in place. "You may have a concussion.
Harper, tell Trance to come check him out." One of her hands pressed against his forehead. Dylan
pushed it away and pretended not to notice his blood on her fingers.

"I'm fine," he said again, a bit more clearly.

"Pathetic human frailty," he heard good old reliable Tyr say.

"We can't all be Ubers," Dylan responded, wishing the throbbing in his head would go away. Tyr
responded to the derogatory name by arming Andromeda's missiles and taking aim at an approaching
squad of Drago-Kazov.

"Should I still get Trance?" Harper asked, watching Dylan with a skeptical expression as Rommie finally
allowed him to pick himself up. All thoughts of Trance were forgotten as the ship was jolted by a second
battery from the Dragons. Without a word but wearing an expression of disgust and hatred that spoke
volumes, Tyr returned fire with a barrage of close-range missiles and proximity mines. On-screen, several
of the Nietzscheans fighters exploded. The disgust and hatred was still visible on Tyr's face as he prepared
for another assault, but the emotions were now blended with smug superiority.

"We shouldn't be here," Harper was saying to himself as he watched the chaos unfolding on the screens.
"We really, really shouldn't be here. We're not ready to take this kind of damage."

It took Dylan a moment to realize that Harper was the one at the controls, trying desperately and largely
unsuccessfully to navigate Andromeda through the ceaseless Nietzscheans fire. Dylan staggered more
than ran to relieve him of command.

"You sure you're okay?" Harper willingly and gratefully relinquished the controls despite the inquiry.
Dylan slid into the familiarity of command and forced the pain in his head away. His eyes saw nothing
but the real-time positions of the fighters and their fire that Rommie was feeding him on the monitors. As
he curled his fingers around the ship's navigation controls, they took on the sensation of an extension of
his own body. During times like these, staring danger and death in the eye and having the nerve to laugh
in their faces, he felt more like he was a part of the Andromeda than a separate, controlling entity.

The ship responded with speed and grace to the slightest adjustments to her course, maneuvering and
dodging almost before he could give direction. Vaguely, he remembered laughing during one of his first
days of training, when an old and rather senile-looking retired pilot had told them a captain develops a
special, almost psychic bond with his vessel. When he'd heard those words, he'd wanted to laugh so badly
he could barely stand it. It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard in his life. Rhade had thought so
as well. He hadn't hid his laughter and had promptly stormed out, vowing to come back when it wasn't
such a waste of his time.

Now, though, Dylan believed every word. He always did when survival depended on he and Andromeda
working in perfect unison. He had no doubt that Beka felt the same connection to the well-abused and
ever-reliable Maru, which he had never stopped scanning for as he guided Andromeda through the swarm
of attacking Nietzscheans.

"Sheesh, there's a million of 'em," Harper declared, completely unnecessarily. He moved to a second
battle-station and proceeded to help Tyr blast a path through the attack. Though he wore none of the
Kodiak's outward evil delight at decimating their opponents, Dylan knew that Harper, usually a
humanitarian, harbored no love for the Drago-Kazov.

"Any sign of the Maru?" Dylan demanded, throwing the ship into a smooth but sharply-banked turn to
avoid a fighter that had slipped past Tyr's constant fire. Anasazi swore and banged a fist on the controls
hard enough to send a few sparks flying. The crew braced for the close-range assault that would have to
follow, but the fighter buzzed overhead without firing a shot.

"What the--"

"Nothing on the Maru," Rommie interrupted her captain. Dylan swore. They'd just brought on the wrath
of the Drago-Kazov fleet--again--and apparently all for nothing. His instincts had been wrong. Beka
wasn't here. The constant freighter traffic to and from the mines would have been the perfect place for her
to lose herself and the Maru. What was one more cargo ship in a sea of them? He'd been certain Beka
would blend in with the other transport ships long enough to formulate a new plan of action.

But she wasn't here.

She was dead, blown to so many pieces by a nova that there was no way Rommie could get a reading on
her or her ship.

"Are you sure?" He'd questioned Rommie's abilities so little in the past that he wasn't sure if he'd ever
done it before.

Rommie turned to look at him over her shoulder. He got the distinct impression that, despite the fact that
they were under heavy, debilitating fire, she wanted to say something very sarcastic in response.

"Positive, Captain," she said instead, the turned her attention back to watching Tyr blow up the Dragon
ships.

When the next Nietzschean salvo hit the ship at a range that was quickly becoming too close, Rommie
winced and tensed to the point of looking physically ill. Dylan shook his head. He couldn't do this to her.
Not after he'd done it so many times before. For Beka, he'd do anything. But he would not sacrifice
Andromeda for a lost cause.

"Tyr!"

"We may be bigger than they are," He responded, launching another offensive. "And stronger." Another.
"And faster." Another. "But they have outnumbered by the hundreds. If your ship says there's no reason
for us to be here, I suggest we get the hell out!"

No reason meant no Beka. As badly as he wanted to stay and conduct a more thorough search, he gave the
command for Tyr to clear a space large enough to open a slipstream portal. The Andromeda was still
recovering from too many past wounds. They were in the middle of a Dragon stronghold and hopelessly
outnumbered.

The rogue Nietzschean fighter again sped overhead before cutting a sharp corner around Andromeda's
massive exterior.

"Arrogant little!" Harper exclaimed. "Rommie, would the planetary warfare bots be overkill?"

"I'll take care of it," Tyr abandoned his systematic destruction of the approaching Drago-Kazov crafts to
zero in an exact lock on the rogue.

"No time!" Dylan barked. "Brace for slipstream!" If they didn't open a portal now, they'd be shooting
Dragons into next year, provided they survived that long. The glowing white portal reached out and
grabbed the Andromeda, propelling it through the winding system of intertwining galaxies. The severely
damaged ship could not navigate the slipstream with her usual ease. The crew, Dylan included, held on
for the sake of life and limb as the ship slammed repeatedly into the nerve-like tentacles of the slipstream.
He feared the Andromeda would begin to break apart.

He had never been more grateful for a return to normal space in his life. Even Tyr took a moment to
collect himself and breathe a sigh of relief as the Andromeda slowed to cruising speed on the outskirts of
the Vestia galaxy.

"That was harsh," Harper muttered, wincing as he massaged his shoulder. "Anybody else here as banged
up as I am?"

"I don't believe it!" Rommie exclaimed. "Dylan, that Nietzschean fighter followed us!" The final words
were not spoken as a warning, but as a statement of complete disbelief.

"One Dragon fighter can easily be taken care of." Tyr managed to scoff and smile at the same time.
"Preparing to fire."

"Dylan," Rommie could not hide her surprise. "It's hailing us!"

"You have got to be kidding me!" Harper shouted at the screen. "They think we're gonna be all chatty
now that they've tried to kill us? I don't think so!"

Tyr scoffed. "We'll give it a proper response."

"On screen!" Dylan ordered before Tyr could open fire.

"What is it with the having to chit-chat with the enemy?" Harper demanded. "I mean, with some
unknown bunch of whatevers I could understand it, but these are the *Dragons.* They hate us, we know
that. Can't we just for once blast first and ask questions later?"

"On screen," Dylan repeated.

Rommie obeyed. The image of their Nietzschean adversary appeared on the central monitor.

"I don't believe it," Tyr breathed in utter astonishment. Harper echoed his sentiments by jumping up and
down and pumping a fist in the air as he shouted "All right!"

Dylan wanted to do a lot of the same, but he could only stare at the pilot and hope his eyes were not
deceiving him. The choppy blonde hair and penetrating blue eyes. That unique blend of cockiness and
adventure in the smile that told him she knew she'd had them all fooled and worried out of their minds. It
couldn't be.

"It's about time you boys showed up," Beka Valentine said in her flirtatious tough-girl voice. "Now tell
Tyr to hold his fire long enough for me to dock. Or are you gonna leave me hanging out here until the
worldship catches up to us?"

"You heard the lady," Dylan said, barely able to speak past the smile that had overtaken his face.
"Andromeda, prepare to dock incoming Nietzschean fighter!"

"Aye, aye, captain!" Even the normally stoic holograph had an extra lilt in her voice. Little wonder why.

Dylan could barely keep himself from following Harper's lead. He hadn't seriously, stupidly, joyously
celebrated anything in the better part of three centuries. They'd been so busy rebuilding, fighting or just
trying to stay alive that a full-blown celebration was out of the question, regardless of circumstance. If
these weren't circumstances, Dylan didn't know what else qualified. Their searching had paid off. They
were one step closer to Trance's perfect possible future.

Beka Valentine was back.

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Not over. Not by a long shot.