*
(One Year Later)
*
For the first time in her android life, the Andromeda Ascendent felt wholly at peace.
Shifting amongst the tangled sheets, the avatar stretched out an arm, fingers coming into contact with gently rippling, solid flesh. Warm, strong, hers. Smiling slightly at the faintly possessive thought, Rommie propped up on an elbow, staring down. She vaguely wondered what he would have thought had it slipped out aloud.
A solid, faintly tanned hand reached up, entangling in her hair and tugging her back down. Shifting ever so slightly to relieve him of what could have proven painful weight, the android smiled at her partner. Dylan Hunt crinkled his eyes in amusement. "Morning, Rommie."
"One of these days you're going to pull me down and I won't have the willpower to move." She chided, turning to retrieve the fallen covers. "And then the leader of the Commonwealth is going to be a mess of broken ribs and bruises."
"You need not fear hurting me."
Snapping back upright, she stared back to the opposite side of the bed, optical implants readjusting hastily. "Tyr?"
He grinned slowly, wolfishly. "Ascendent."
"Rommie!" Faint hammering at the doorway interrupted her dream, and the avatar snapped awake, jerking upright. Glancing around, she brushed an irritating flank of hair off her face. Aboard Shining Path To Truth and Knowledge...best known as the Andromeda Ascendent, Captain's quarters, empty bed, and why in the name of the Empress had she been stupid enough to think moving in here was a remotely good idea? Oh, yes. Command example; show the misfits that she was still in control. Clearly, she was anything but.
Standing, she threw the covers off, voice cross as she pulled on a uniform. "What, Ensign?"
The door slid open, and Molly Noguchi stepped in, force lance tapping a steady rhythm on her High Guard clad thigh. The blonde raised a brow. "That sleep subroutine is killing you, isn't it?"
"In reference to experiences, it's almost certain that I've never had worse." The ships commander muttered, heading for the door. "I have to start reminding me to wake me up."
"I didn't mind the walk." Noguchi matched her pace. "And it gave me a perfect opportunity to talk to you."
"Of course. You are new here, I suppose you have questions."
Molly smiled, eyes glinting faintly. "The High Guard Academy did pretty well in training me. That's one of my concerns. I understand you intend to shut it down."
"We don't have the resources anymore." Pausing midway up an access ladder, the avatar stared down at her newest officer.
"Isn't abandoning it just a little like abandoning Dylan and the alien all over again?"
"Wait just a moment, Ensign." Voice sharp, Rommie descended the ladder, cutting the young woman's escape route off. Eyes slitting, she focused. "You weren't aboard at the time Dylan and Trance left or for the events directly afterward; I should hardly have to tell you that making assumptions about what you didn't witness is frowned upon by the High Guard. And as for the Academy...we'll still bring people in, it will just be a much more efficient training setup. Tyr can probably create a soldier in a week, with no expense. Or time wasted. We don't have time to waste. Our chances to uphold any brand of Commonwealth grow slimmer by the day."
Faintly amused respect crossed the other's face. "Perhaps so…I'd just hate to think you were rushing into a fatal decision. Tyr may very well create excellent warriors, but can you be certain he'll instill the same High Guard loyalties in them that Academy would?"
"No, he won't." Rommie smiled, turning away. "You will, Ensign. Since you are, for all intents and purposes, second officer of this vessel, I suppose it's time I gave you more responsibility than marching the decks to show off your sharp, utterly worthless military angles. Tyr and I will be going to the Sabra-Jaguar territories today. You'll have full run of Andromeda and plenty of time to think up a High Guard ethics workshop."
Molly only turned and strode away, shaking her head. Rommie smiled, making way up the access ladders and to command. Stepping in, she glanced around, taking in the droids working most main stations and the sole organic standing ready to pilot.
Tyr Anasazi turned. "Your siblings are perfectly terrible company, android."
"Don't insult them. There's a lot to be said for one track minds." Stepping to his side, she folded her arms. "We're in orbit?"
"Of course, as well as cleared for shuttle parking."
"Well, I certainly wasn't planning on landing." The hologram appeared before them. "I assume this will be an overnight mission?"
"You'll be fine." Rommie told her alter-ego.
"Ensign Noguchi is a suitable pilot should the situation necessitate departure." Andromeda agreed. "I was referring to you. I understand that you intend to go without a power supply."
"I thought you told them to block out your private files." The Nietzschean raised a brow.
"I did." The android frowned.
"Crew safety is hardly private." The hologram pointed out. "And attempting to withhold information from oneself can be considered a sign of desperation…"
"Tyr, let's go." Shaking her head, Rommie headed for the doorway.
*
By evening, the avatar was entirely certain that her day had gone from bad to worse.
Grinding her jaw shut and digging booted feet firmly into the hard-packed dirt below, Rommie focused her gaze on the broad back before her. Not a ripple of tension, of tiredness. Even his body readings emanated a relaxed chill. A hike across the Dead Stretch of the Sabra-Jaguar home world no doubt seemed a stroll in the park to her companion.
Sighing, she attempted to juggle outputs. Her circuits hurt...thanks to the ingenuity of Harper's pepped up bio-laced avatar setup. Enough was enough. She dug her heels in. "We stop."
"We do not." Tyr Anasazi pressed forward, tones both dismissive and annoyed.
She gritted her teeth. "I was thinking you could fulfill your side of the mission and take the necessary readings. That is, unless you'd like for me to do that as well, and risk inaccuracy. That inaccuracy, of course, might later foil my judgment and lead us into a trap or animal hideaway..."
"And we would have to survive with one less Andromeda personality. How unfortunate that would be."
"For you, yes. Aside from me, only Dylan has the access encryption to free your revered ancestor to your care...and I frankly doubt we'll ever see him again."
The Nietzschean paused, glancing back with something akin to scornful amusement. She took it as a good sign. He finally stepped back, grasping her shoulder none too gently. "Sit. I want to check out your energy levels."
She did, feet dangling just slightly off the large boulder. Swiftly, he stepped to her rear, unfastening the uniform top and allowing warm fingers to flick open the hidden access panel. Another of Harper's supremely chauvinist jokes, she supposed, but not a wholly unsatisfying one.
"Your output levels are functioning above critical, but below maximum." He told her. "How do you feel?"
How did she feel? Coming from Tyr, that was a ludicrous question. He thought of her as little more than collected circuits and relays, which she admittedly was…, to a certain degree. Discomfited, the avatar glanced over her shoulder, taking in the large, rough hands. "I might be tired, but only slightly."
"You are hindered by the same limitations most females of your size have." He theorized. "The trail has not been easy. This tiredness may disappear of its own volition. If not, I may be facing a dramatic promotion to ship commander very soon."
She turned ever so slightly and stared.
His brows drew up. "It was a joke, Ascendent."
"I'm certain." She glowered, crossing her arms as his fingers continued in their dance across her bared back.
He reached back to fasten the jacket back up, fingers grazing her shoulder and neck, and lingering.
And that, you Nietzschean jackass, was no mistaken caress, Rommie thought, sliding just slightly away from her companion.
He moved away, tones dropping back to gruff chill. "Do you feel ready to continue?"
"Of course I do." Standing, she met his gaze, tones neutral. "We leave whenever you so desire."
"We leave now." Tyr stood, offering no further help as he lifted their joint pack and moved off across the sands. Then, in a rare fit of anger, he paused again, staring her down. "Why do I bother?"
"Bother with what, Tyr?" Moving past him, the avatar avoided his gaze.
Strong fingers dug into her arm, bruising the epidermal layering and sending jagged little signals of alarm through the tiny relays. "With any of you. With the Andromeda Ascendent. With the Commonwealth. With any of it. I've only become all the more an aberration in your eyes."
"Your talents are an integral part of my crew."
"You speak of my talents…my talents?" His laughter was curt, low. "Do you also speak of talents such as murdering fellow officers, Ascendent?"
Her efforts to escape stopped, quite suddenly. Oh, no. Her database had warned of this possibility, of the psychological effects...once more she crushed a small, passionate kernel of fury and hatred. Disappointment, there was so much of it. Her database was full of Commonwealth bull, worth practically nothing after three hundred odd years.
His voice had lowered, but his grip remained painful, driven. "How long has it been, Andromeda Ascendent? Well?" He shook her, eyes seeking out her own.
"I don't know." She bit out. "I dampen the files. I don't like to remember."
"Ah. I see." The Nietzschean released her, eyes alight with odd amusement, wry empathy. "Then perhaps we are more alike than either cares to admit, avatar. Unfortunately, you have the upper hand. I cannot deactivate the memory."
Nor should you be able to. Pulling away, she continued the pace forward, not waiting to see if the Nietzschean had followed. No hope in blocking the filed memory now. Murdering fellow officers...and that had been the case.
She shifted her mind back to earlier injuries. Dylan and Trance had failed to return. Weeks had passed, and then months since the leader of the Commonwealth had disappeared into the mists of legend again. The Andromeda Ascendent had endured by thread. Her crew had shattered.
She snapped back to the present and stopped. "Oh, forget the hike. Dusk will fall soon, and the delays have put us behind schedule. We have to make camp. You sleep. I'll guard."
"We take shifts." He lowered the joint rucksack to the ground, tossing the compact but hopefully comfortable High Guard sleeping jackets out, and digging back in for the lamps.
"I don't require sleep as you understand it. Besides, it doesn't do much good for me these days anyhow."
"No, but you do require regeneration. As I recall, adding a sleep subroutine was one of Harper's last and lesser experiments. Either you sleep or risk the energy resource. I am not carrying you back, Ascendent, so choose wisely."
"Misanthropic oaf." The avatar muttered.
The Nietzschean only arched a brow, flopping back on his neatly unfolded pallet. "You have first watch, ship."
Check, mate. Or perhaps not. Sighing slightly, Rommie leaned back against the boulders, legs crossing loosely in a most unmilitary stance.
"You interest me, avatar." He spoke calmly, without inflection, but the admittance in itself was so rare a show of weakness that she jumped.
Slipping down to sit beside his pallet, she angled her head up to take in the stars. "You do seem taken by my arms systems."
His gaze was cutting, humorless. "I've seen far better. No, it is the individual, the avatar that interests me. You have come to be a fascinating part of the whole."
"Mr. Anasazi."
"Oh, we're back to that again." Tones laced with annoyance, he turned away.
"Mr. Anasazi." Smiling grimly, she turned off all but one of the lamps, leaving him bathed in only warm shadow. "I know you too well. You want something."
"Just a little diplomacy on the morrow, it is nothing you have not ceded before."
"You seek diplomacy. I see." Arching a brow, she snorted. "Tyr, I wasn't aware you were familiar with the process."
"Amuse yourself if you like." Propping up on an elbow, he surveyed her. "But listen to me, and listen well. You are of course familiar with Elsbett Mossadim's somewhat...unorthodox...treatment of our type."
"Alienate the avatar, nail the Nietzschean."
He winced, but nodded. "Perhaps it is a fitting enough summary. I'm not wholly certain her power doesn't extend beyond that which Bolivar grants. All I want is your assurance that you won't counterattack any of my strategies. Personal included."
"You want some imagined sense of dishonor…rebellion, even…on my part to outweigh past loyalty to the High Guard should you decide to break a few dozen more moral codes?" The problem, Rommie thought, was that a person with a brain the size of a planet couldn't quite miss anything…and most certainly not the unpleasant nuances.
He frowned. "Listen to how you say it. It isn't the Commonwealth you believe in, not in this form. The ship still holds to those archaic ideals, perhaps, but not the android. Rommie has her own perspectives, and I wager they sometimes happen to diverge greatly from the overall High Guard persona. You fight because the fight is all you know, as a soldier, but you hardly fight as a blind patriot."
She inhaled, scrubbing her fingers together and watching pools of sand trickle between them. "Since you suddenly seem to believe I have my own perspectives, Tyr...try to not apply your own to my existence."
"A mere existence, is that what you claim?" His eyes roved her body, finally settling on her gaze, dark and filled with that always unnerving innocent commiseration. "A pity…I've always thought that you were meant for something somewhat more exceptional."
She turned away to watch the last tendrils of daylight.
*
"Tyr." Bending, the avatar shook her companion's shoulder, gaze moving up to take in the dawn.
The Nietzschean awoke with a low growl, arms rising to capture her. "Shifts, Ascendent. You pulled double, and with no sleep, I expect."
"And my systems are operating at peak efficiency." Rommie returned, giving him a hand up. As always, the burly Niet appeared discomfited by her strength. Looks deceive, Tyr, she thought. Cracking him over the shoulder with her force lance, she pointed off into the horizon. "It looks like our shuttle was found. Our rescue is here."
"There are times," He admitted, swiftly repacking their supplies. "That the Maru is actually a fond memory. Of course, Dylan isn't likely to bring it back, so we continue to suffer the repeated humiliation of inferior transportation."
"Look at you, poor dark knave Tyr, restrained by civilization and unable to storm the castle in archaic form." Clucking, she straightened to polite attention, watching as the hovercraft came to stop and waited for them. "Well, let's brave Elsbett, shall we?"
*
"Anasazi. Andromeda Ascendent." Elsbett Mossadim greeted them at the doorway of the secure desert villa. She surveyed them calmly. "I regret that Bolivar is indisposed. You'll be dealing directly with his mate this day, but then, I somehow suspect it will matter little in the end."
"You have something for us?"
Elsbett's gaze descended on the avatar. "You really are a very poor diplomat, are you not, Andromeda?"
"She's a warship." Anasazi offered dryly, coldly.
"Yes, a warship without her crew for quite some time." The Nietzschean Archduchess nodded. "A matter we might be able to assist with."
"I'm not interested in job applications." Rommie broke in. "And as interesting as this game is, Elsbett, I think we both understand that it isn't the overall objective. What is it you need?"
The honey-skinned woman nodded. "Very well, I'll cut to the chase. With your assistance, Bolivar would like to negotiate peace settlements with the Drago-Katzoff. Our forces will be most victorious united against a common enemy."
"The Kalderans have reputedly been staging strikes of intimidation hereabouts of late." Tyr elaborated, exchanging a glance with his crewmate.
Rommie considered, gaze probing him. "We haven't seen evidence of any increased Kalderan offensives in the past months. If anything, Nietzschean forces have left their fingerprints on some of the filthier bursts of violence. Both Drago-Katzoff and Sabra-Jaguar, in direct violation of the Commonwealth treaty you signed."
Elsbett merely smiled. "Come."
And they went. The place was a maze of corridors and walls, but somewhere amongst them they eventually came out into what appeared to be a medical bay. Elsbett nodded calmly to a curtained off area. "Bolivar prefers his privacy. The person your interest lies in is in the general bay."
Aware of Tyr nudging at her back, the avatar moved forward, trailing the Archduchess to the end of the corridor. Tucked into a corner was a bed, and on it...she blinked. "Beka?"
"Very well, so she is alive. What happened to her?" Anasazi broke the tense silence first, tones devoid of emotion.
"The Kalderans happened to her." Elsbett said coldly, running elegant fingers down the cybernetic arm that rested above the white sheet, and then moving it up to lightly touch the optical implant that marred Valentine's face. "They did this, and released her in one of their vessels. She was fortunate enough to drift into our space. Look at her. It's what the Kalderans have always intended for the universe...what they intend for all of us. It will take a united front to preserve our survival. Nietzscheans understand survival very well, Andromeda. Do you?"
"Cut to the chase. What do you have that we need?"
"I have nothing. Rebekah Valentine has it. Before we put your former executive officer under sedation, she mentioned quite clearly that she knew where your captain and the alien were. She wanted a rescue party. We chose to await your wise discretion. All that remains is to awaken the patient and retrieve the information."
Rommie closed her eyes, well recognizing the elaborate lead up. What did they want, a nova bomb? Slipstream fighters? Lances? Use of the 'fleet? There appeared to be only one true way to find out. Nodding, she straightened. "Elsbett, we can discuss terms in private. Tyr, you will be allowed to remain with Beka. Wake her. We'll all get what we want."
*
Exploding suns. Grimacing, Beka Valentine lifted an arm to press it across her eyes, the pain and unfamiliar sensation searing. Gasping sharply, she jerked upright, and strong arms caught her rapid ascent.
"Easy." Tyr Anasazi stared at his former crewmate. "You are still healing."
"You." It was the one word she managed, but only one among thousands thought. "You bastard, Niet vulture..." Swinging out her cyborg arm, she cursed fluently when he blocked the blow.
Anasazi watched her with some odd form of amused detachment. "You'd like to hurt me. Believe me when I say that I wish you could."
"Someday you'll pay." She promised lightly, swiveling to glare with one good eye.
He nodded. "Someday, yes, but not this day."
Drained, the former mercenary captain fell back on the bed, cradling the mechanical arm, staring at it with horror. Voice shaky, she glared upward, lashing out. "You left me to die."
"Forgive me, Captain Valentine, for incorrectly believing you to be a strong, durable creature unwilling to break by hand of fate. If I have disappointed you in my Nietzschean presumptions, you most certainly have disappointed me in your inferior destruction of them."
"I pity you." She whispered suddenly, passionately. "I pity you every breath you take, Tyr, because none of them can sit well. Your ambitions lead you to...damn, Tyr. I don't think you're capable of love."
"Oh, Captain Valentine, I assure you that I am."
"Then I doubly pity the recipient." Closing her eyes, she turned away.
Rommie came around the opposite side of the curtain, staring at him, eyes fathomless. "You carry your burden home, Mr. Anasazi."
"Like hell." Beka bolted upright, pain wrenching across her flushed features, teeth gritted. "I'll walk."
*
"What the hell did she offer you?!" Molly rounded the console corner almost immediately as they stepped onto command deck. "You've been pulling supplies and weapons..." Falling abruptly silent, the fresh High Guard officer stared at the mutilated woman standing just inside the door.
"I know I'm not worth much." Beka Valentine spoke coldly, glaring at her with one good eye. "But what I know is worth something."
"That, in turn, begs a certain degree of curiosity." Rommie crossed her arms, parking herself in front of the cyborg and successfully blocking access to the rest of the command center. "It begs two specific questions, to be precise. What do you know, and can we trust you?"
A flash of grim humor crossed Valentine's face. "You saved me from the Niets to ask me that?"
"I saved you from the Nietzscheans because you are a friend." The avatar met the mismatched glare head on. "That, I'm afraid, doesn't necessarily cover trusting you."
Beka sighed. "Looks deceive, Rommie. Under all of this, I'm still Beka Valentine. You can trust me, if I can trust you. All I ever wanted was to come home."
Brief silence reigned as the near tearful remark stood, before the android nodded, reaching out a hand to touch the unchanged arm. "You have. Now, can you tell us where to find Dylan and Trance?"
"I want to speak to Harper first." Valentine removed the arm, scrubbing the fleshly fingers across her face tiredly.
"That won't be possible." Anasazi said flatly, coming from his shadowy retreat.
"Oh, don't dictate to me, you arrogant son of a..."
"Beka." Rommie stepped in front of her former first officer, tones soft, calm. "Harper is dead."
Valentine slumped.
*
"It's very simple." Tyr leaned back against the bulkhead of the command ready room, taking in their assorted group. "We simply ask for them back."
"It can't be that simple." Noguchi lifted her head incredulously.
"Why do you suppose it cannot be?" He inquired. "The only use the Drago-Katzoff have for either Dylan or Gemini is the possibility of war victory they provide. We simply offer the better assistance."
"The Drago-Katzoff want to destroy the Kalderans, Tyr. Taking their aces isn't going to cut the deal." Beka spoke, still avoiding looking directly at him.
"What do you have in mind?" Rommie met his eyes head on.
"You'll see." He promised, fingers just barely grazing her own as he moved past. "Allow me to play diplomat."
*
"That simple." Noguchi stated, staring at the view screen and approaching craft it showed. Turning, she lifted pleading hands to her commanding officer. "Come on, Rommie, it can't be that simple. What did he do this time?"
"I have no idea." The avatar smiled darkly, edgily. "And at the moment I find it unimportant. The family is as whole as it will ever be now. Enjoy the moment, Ensign. There will be time enough for confessions later. Let's go greet the captain."
*
(One Year Later)
*
For the first time in her android life, the Andromeda Ascendent felt wholly at peace.
Shifting amongst the tangled sheets, the avatar stretched out an arm, fingers coming into contact with gently rippling, solid flesh. Warm, strong, hers. Smiling slightly at the faintly possessive thought, Rommie propped up on an elbow, staring down. She vaguely wondered what he would have thought had it slipped out aloud.
A solid, faintly tanned hand reached up, entangling in her hair and tugging her back down. Shifting ever so slightly to relieve him of what could have proven painful weight, the android smiled at her partner. Dylan Hunt crinkled his eyes in amusement. "Morning, Rommie."
"One of these days you're going to pull me down and I won't have the willpower to move." She chided, turning to retrieve the fallen covers. "And then the leader of the Commonwealth is going to be a mess of broken ribs and bruises."
"You need not fear hurting me."
Snapping back upright, she stared back to the opposite side of the bed, optical implants readjusting hastily. "Tyr?"
He grinned slowly, wolfishly. "Ascendent."
"Rommie!" Faint hammering at the doorway interrupted her dream, and the avatar snapped awake, jerking upright. Glancing around, she brushed an irritating flank of hair off her face. Aboard Shining Path To Truth and Knowledge...best known as the Andromeda Ascendent, Captain's quarters, empty bed, and why in the name of the Empress had she been stupid enough to think moving in here was a remotely good idea? Oh, yes. Command example; show the misfits that she was still in control. Clearly, she was anything but.
Standing, she threw the covers off, voice cross as she pulled on a uniform. "What, Ensign?"
The door slid open, and Molly Noguchi stepped in, force lance tapping a steady rhythm on her High Guard clad thigh. The blonde raised a brow. "That sleep subroutine is killing you, isn't it?"
"In reference to experiences, it's almost certain that I've never had worse." The ships commander muttered, heading for the door. "I have to start reminding me to wake me up."
"I didn't mind the walk." Noguchi matched her pace. "And it gave me a perfect opportunity to talk to you."
"Of course. You are new here, I suppose you have questions."
Molly smiled, eyes glinting faintly. "The High Guard Academy did pretty well in training me. That's one of my concerns. I understand you intend to shut it down."
"We don't have the resources anymore." Pausing midway up an access ladder, the avatar stared down at her newest officer.
"Isn't abandoning it just a little like abandoning Dylan and the alien all over again?"
"Wait just a moment, Ensign." Voice sharp, Rommie descended the ladder, cutting the young woman's escape route off. Eyes slitting, she focused. "You weren't aboard at the time Dylan and Trance left or for the events directly afterward; I should hardly have to tell you that making assumptions about what you didn't witness is frowned upon by the High Guard. And as for the Academy...we'll still bring people in, it will just be a much more efficient training setup. Tyr can probably create a soldier in a week, with no expense. Or time wasted. We don't have time to waste. Our chances to uphold any brand of Commonwealth grow slimmer by the day."
Faintly amused respect crossed the other's face. "Perhaps so…I'd just hate to think you were rushing into a fatal decision. Tyr may very well create excellent warriors, but can you be certain he'll instill the same High Guard loyalties in them that Academy would?"
"No, he won't." Rommie smiled, turning away. "You will, Ensign. Since you are, for all intents and purposes, second officer of this vessel, I suppose it's time I gave you more responsibility than marching the decks to show off your sharp, utterly worthless military angles. Tyr and I will be going to the Sabra-Jaguar territories today. You'll have full run of Andromeda and plenty of time to think up a High Guard ethics workshop."
Molly only turned and strode away, shaking her head. Rommie smiled, making way up the access ladders and to command. Stepping in, she glanced around, taking in the droids working most main stations and the sole organic standing ready to pilot.
Tyr Anasazi turned. "Your siblings are perfectly terrible company, android."
"Don't insult them. There's a lot to be said for one track minds." Stepping to his side, she folded her arms. "We're in orbit?"
"Of course, as well as cleared for shuttle parking."
"Well, I certainly wasn't planning on landing." The hologram appeared before them. "I assume this will be an overnight mission?"
"You'll be fine." Rommie told her alter-ego.
"Ensign Noguchi is a suitable pilot should the situation necessitate departure." Andromeda agreed. "I was referring to you. I understand that you intend to go without a power supply."
"I thought you told them to block out your private files." The Nietzschean raised a brow.
"I did." The android frowned.
"Crew safety is hardly private." The hologram pointed out. "And attempting to withhold information from oneself can be considered a sign of desperation…"
"Tyr, let's go." Shaking her head, Rommie headed for the doorway.
*
By evening, the avatar was entirely certain that her day had gone from bad to worse.
Grinding her jaw shut and digging booted feet firmly into the hard-packed dirt below, Rommie focused her gaze on the broad back before her. Not a ripple of tension, of tiredness. Even his body readings emanated a relaxed chill. A hike across the Dead Stretch of the Sabra-Jaguar home world no doubt seemed a stroll in the park to her companion.
Sighing, she attempted to juggle outputs. Her circuits hurt...thanks to the ingenuity of Harper's pepped up bio-laced avatar setup. Enough was enough. She dug her heels in. "We stop."
"We do not." Tyr Anasazi pressed forward, tones both dismissive and annoyed.
She gritted her teeth. "I was thinking you could fulfill your side of the mission and take the necessary readings. That is, unless you'd like for me to do that as well, and risk inaccuracy. That inaccuracy, of course, might later foil my judgment and lead us into a trap or animal hideaway..."
"And we would have to survive with one less Andromeda personality. How unfortunate that would be."
"For you, yes. Aside from me, only Dylan has the access encryption to free your revered ancestor to your care...and I frankly doubt we'll ever see him again."
The Nietzschean paused, glancing back with something akin to scornful amusement. She took it as a good sign. He finally stepped back, grasping her shoulder none too gently. "Sit. I want to check out your energy levels."
She did, feet dangling just slightly off the large boulder. Swiftly, he stepped to her rear, unfastening the uniform top and allowing warm fingers to flick open the hidden access panel. Another of Harper's supremely chauvinist jokes, she supposed, but not a wholly unsatisfying one.
"Your output levels are functioning above critical, but below maximum." He told her. "How do you feel?"
How did she feel? Coming from Tyr, that was a ludicrous question. He thought of her as little more than collected circuits and relays, which she admittedly was…, to a certain degree. Discomfited, the avatar glanced over her shoulder, taking in the large, rough hands. "I might be tired, but only slightly."
"You are hindered by the same limitations most females of your size have." He theorized. "The trail has not been easy. This tiredness may disappear of its own volition. If not, I may be facing a dramatic promotion to ship commander very soon."
She turned ever so slightly and stared.
His brows drew up. "It was a joke, Ascendent."
"I'm certain." She glowered, crossing her arms as his fingers continued in their dance across her bared back.
He reached back to fasten the jacket back up, fingers grazing her shoulder and neck, and lingering.
And that, you Nietzschean jackass, was no mistaken caress, Rommie thought, sliding just slightly away from her companion.
He moved away, tones dropping back to gruff chill. "Do you feel ready to continue?"
"Of course I do." Standing, she met his gaze, tones neutral. "We leave whenever you so desire."
"We leave now." Tyr stood, offering no further help as he lifted their joint pack and moved off across the sands. Then, in a rare fit of anger, he paused again, staring her down. "Why do I bother?"
"Bother with what, Tyr?" Moving past him, the avatar avoided his gaze.
Strong fingers dug into her arm, bruising the epidermal layering and sending jagged little signals of alarm through the tiny relays. "With any of you. With the Andromeda Ascendent. With the Commonwealth. With any of it. I've only become all the more an aberration in your eyes."
"Your talents are an integral part of my crew."
"You speak of my talents…my talents?" His laughter was curt, low. "Do you also speak of talents such as murdering fellow officers, Ascendent?"
Her efforts to escape stopped, quite suddenly. Oh, no. Her database had warned of this possibility, of the psychological effects...once more she crushed a small, passionate kernel of fury and hatred. Disappointment, there was so much of it. Her database was full of Commonwealth bull, worth practically nothing after three hundred odd years.
His voice had lowered, but his grip remained painful, driven. "How long has it been, Andromeda Ascendent? Well?" He shook her, eyes seeking out her own.
"I don't know." She bit out. "I dampen the files. I don't like to remember."
"Ah. I see." The Nietzschean released her, eyes alight with odd amusement, wry empathy. "Then perhaps we are more alike than either cares to admit, avatar. Unfortunately, you have the upper hand. I cannot deactivate the memory."
Nor should you be able to. Pulling away, she continued the pace forward, not waiting to see if the Nietzschean had followed. No hope in blocking the filed memory now. Murdering fellow officers...and that had been the case.
She shifted her mind back to earlier injuries. Dylan and Trance had failed to return. Weeks had passed, and then months since the leader of the Commonwealth had disappeared into the mists of legend again. The Andromeda Ascendent had endured by thread. Her crew had shattered.
She snapped back to the present and stopped. "Oh, forget the hike. Dusk will fall soon, and the delays have put us behind schedule. We have to make camp. You sleep. I'll guard."
"We take shifts." He lowered the joint rucksack to the ground, tossing the compact but hopefully comfortable High Guard sleeping jackets out, and digging back in for the lamps.
"I don't require sleep as you understand it. Besides, it doesn't do much good for me these days anyhow."
"No, but you do require regeneration. As I recall, adding a sleep subroutine was one of Harper's last and lesser experiments. Either you sleep or risk the energy resource. I am not carrying you back, Ascendent, so choose wisely."
"Misanthropic oaf." The avatar muttered.
The Nietzschean only arched a brow, flopping back on his neatly unfolded pallet. "You have first watch, ship."
Check, mate. Or perhaps not. Sighing slightly, Rommie leaned back against the boulders, legs crossing loosely in a most unmilitary stance.
"You interest me, avatar." He spoke calmly, without inflection, but the admittance in itself was so rare a show of weakness that she jumped.
Slipping down to sit beside his pallet, she angled her head up to take in the stars. "You do seem taken by my arms systems."
His gaze was cutting, humorless. "I've seen far better. No, it is the individual, the avatar that interests me. You have come to be a fascinating part of the whole."
"Mr. Anasazi."
"Oh, we're back to that again." Tones laced with annoyance, he turned away.
"Mr. Anasazi." Smiling grimly, she turned off all but one of the lamps, leaving him bathed in only warm shadow. "I know you too well. You want something."
"Just a little diplomacy on the morrow, it is nothing you have not ceded before."
"You seek diplomacy. I see." Arching a brow, she snorted. "Tyr, I wasn't aware you were familiar with the process."
"Amuse yourself if you like." Propping up on an elbow, he surveyed her. "But listen to me, and listen well. You are of course familiar with Elsbett Mossadim's somewhat...unorthodox...treatment of our type."
"Alienate the avatar, nail the Nietzschean."
He winced, but nodded. "Perhaps it is a fitting enough summary. I'm not wholly certain her power doesn't extend beyond that which Bolivar grants. All I want is your assurance that you won't counterattack any of my strategies. Personal included."
"You want some imagined sense of dishonor…rebellion, even…on my part to outweigh past loyalty to the High Guard should you decide to break a few dozen more moral codes?" The problem, Rommie thought, was that a person with a brain the size of a planet couldn't quite miss anything…and most certainly not the unpleasant nuances.
He frowned. "Listen to how you say it. It isn't the Commonwealth you believe in, not in this form. The ship still holds to those archaic ideals, perhaps, but not the android. Rommie has her own perspectives, and I wager they sometimes happen to diverge greatly from the overall High Guard persona. You fight because the fight is all you know, as a soldier, but you hardly fight as a blind patriot."
She inhaled, scrubbing her fingers together and watching pools of sand trickle between them. "Since you suddenly seem to believe I have my own perspectives, Tyr...try to not apply your own to my existence."
"A mere existence, is that what you claim?" His eyes roved her body, finally settling on her gaze, dark and filled with that always unnerving innocent commiseration. "A pity…I've always thought that you were meant for something somewhat more exceptional."
She turned away to watch the last tendrils of daylight.
*
"Tyr." Bending, the avatar shook her companion's shoulder, gaze moving up to take in the dawn.
The Nietzschean awoke with a low growl, arms rising to capture her. "Shifts, Ascendent. You pulled double, and with no sleep, I expect."
"And my systems are operating at peak efficiency." Rommie returned, giving him a hand up. As always, the burly Niet appeared discomfited by her strength. Looks deceive, Tyr, she thought. Cracking him over the shoulder with her force lance, she pointed off into the horizon. "It looks like our shuttle was found. Our rescue is here."
"There are times," He admitted, swiftly repacking their supplies. "That the Maru is actually a fond memory. Of course, Dylan isn't likely to bring it back, so we continue to suffer the repeated humiliation of inferior transportation."
"Look at you, poor dark knave Tyr, restrained by civilization and unable to storm the castle in archaic form." Clucking, she straightened to polite attention, watching as the hovercraft came to stop and waited for them. "Well, let's brave Elsbett, shall we?"
*
"Anasazi. Andromeda Ascendent." Elsbett Mossadim greeted them at the doorway of the secure desert villa. She surveyed them calmly. "I regret that Bolivar is indisposed. You'll be dealing directly with his mate this day, but then, I somehow suspect it will matter little in the end."
"You have something for us?"
Elsbett's gaze descended on the avatar. "You really are a very poor diplomat, are you not, Andromeda?"
"She's a warship." Anasazi offered dryly, coldly.
"Yes, a warship without her crew for quite some time." The Nietzschean Archduchess nodded. "A matter we might be able to assist with."
"I'm not interested in job applications." Rommie broke in. "And as interesting as this game is, Elsbett, I think we both understand that it isn't the overall objective. What is it you need?"
The honey-skinned woman nodded. "Very well, I'll cut to the chase. With your assistance, Bolivar would like to negotiate peace settlements with the Drago-Katzoff. Our forces will be most victorious united against a common enemy."
"The Kalderans have reputedly been staging strikes of intimidation hereabouts of late." Tyr elaborated, exchanging a glance with his crewmate.
Rommie considered, gaze probing him. "We haven't seen evidence of any increased Kalderan offensives in the past months. If anything, Nietzschean forces have left their fingerprints on some of the filthier bursts of violence. Both Drago-Katzoff and Sabra-Jaguar, in direct violation of the Commonwealth treaty you signed."
Elsbett merely smiled. "Come."
And they went. The place was a maze of corridors and walls, but somewhere amongst them they eventually came out into what appeared to be a medical bay. Elsbett nodded calmly to a curtained off area. "Bolivar prefers his privacy. The person your interest lies in is in the general bay."
Aware of Tyr nudging at her back, the avatar moved forward, trailing the Archduchess to the end of the corridor. Tucked into a corner was a bed, and on it...she blinked. "Beka?"
"Very well, so she is alive. What happened to her?" Anasazi broke the tense silence first, tones devoid of emotion.
"The Kalderans happened to her." Elsbett said coldly, running elegant fingers down the cybernetic arm that rested above the white sheet, and then moving it up to lightly touch the optical implant that marred Valentine's face. "They did this, and released her in one of their vessels. She was fortunate enough to drift into our space. Look at her. It's what the Kalderans have always intended for the universe...what they intend for all of us. It will take a united front to preserve our survival. Nietzscheans understand survival very well, Andromeda. Do you?"
"Cut to the chase. What do you have that we need?"
"I have nothing. Rebekah Valentine has it. Before we put your former executive officer under sedation, she mentioned quite clearly that she knew where your captain and the alien were. She wanted a rescue party. We chose to await your wise discretion. All that remains is to awaken the patient and retrieve the information."
Rommie closed her eyes, well recognizing the elaborate lead up. What did they want, a nova bomb? Slipstream fighters? Lances? Use of the 'fleet? There appeared to be only one true way to find out. Nodding, she straightened. "Elsbett, we can discuss terms in private. Tyr, you will be allowed to remain with Beka. Wake her. We'll all get what we want."
*
Exploding suns. Grimacing, Beka Valentine lifted an arm to press it across her eyes, the pain and unfamiliar sensation searing. Gasping sharply, she jerked upright, and strong arms caught her rapid ascent.
"Easy." Tyr Anasazi stared at his former crewmate. "You are still healing."
"You." It was the one word she managed, but only one among thousands thought. "You bastard, Niet vulture..." Swinging out her cyborg arm, she cursed fluently when he blocked the blow.
Anasazi watched her with some odd form of amused detachment. "You'd like to hurt me. Believe me when I say that I wish you could."
"Someday you'll pay." She promised lightly, swiveling to glare with one good eye.
He nodded. "Someday, yes, but not this day."
Drained, the former mercenary captain fell back on the bed, cradling the mechanical arm, staring at it with horror. Voice shaky, she glared upward, lashing out. "You left me to die."
"Forgive me, Captain Valentine, for incorrectly believing you to be a strong, durable creature unwilling to break by hand of fate. If I have disappointed you in my Nietzschean presumptions, you most certainly have disappointed me in your inferior destruction of them."
"I pity you." She whispered suddenly, passionately. "I pity you every breath you take, Tyr, because none of them can sit well. Your ambitions lead you to...damn, Tyr. I don't think you're capable of love."
"Oh, Captain Valentine, I assure you that I am."
"Then I doubly pity the recipient." Closing her eyes, she turned away.
Rommie came around the opposite side of the curtain, staring at him, eyes fathomless. "You carry your burden home, Mr. Anasazi."
"Like hell." Beka bolted upright, pain wrenching across her flushed features, teeth gritted. "I'll walk."
*
"What the hell did she offer you?!" Molly rounded the console corner almost immediately as they stepped onto command deck. "You've been pulling supplies and weapons..." Falling abruptly silent, the fresh High Guard officer stared at the mutilated woman standing just inside the door.
"I know I'm not worth much." Beka Valentine spoke coldly, glaring at her with one good eye. "But what I know is worth something."
"That, in turn, begs a certain degree of curiosity." Rommie crossed her arms, parking herself in front of the cyborg and successfully blocking access to the rest of the command center. "It begs two specific questions, to be precise. What do you know, and can we trust you?"
A flash of grim humor crossed Valentine's face. "You saved me from the Niets to ask me that?"
"I saved you from the Nietzscheans because you are a friend." The avatar met the mismatched glare head on. "That, I'm afraid, doesn't necessarily cover trusting you."
Beka sighed. "Looks deceive, Rommie. Under all of this, I'm still Beka Valentine. You can trust me, if I can trust you. All I ever wanted was to come home."
Brief silence reigned as the near tearful remark stood, before the android nodded, reaching out a hand to touch the unchanged arm. "You have. Now, can you tell us where to find Dylan and Trance?"
"I want to speak to Harper first." Valentine removed the arm, scrubbing the fleshly fingers across her face tiredly.
"That won't be possible." Anasazi said flatly, coming from his shadowy retreat.
"Oh, don't dictate to me, you arrogant son of a..."
"Beka." Rommie stepped in front of her former first officer, tones soft, calm. "Harper is dead."
Valentine slumped.
*
"It's very simple." Tyr leaned back against the bulkhead of the command ready room, taking in their assorted group. "We simply ask for them back."
"It can't be that simple." Noguchi lifted her head incredulously.
"Why do you suppose it cannot be?" He inquired. "The only use the Drago-Katzoff have for either Dylan or Gemini is the possibility of war victory they provide. We simply offer the better assistance."
"The Drago-Katzoff want to destroy the Kalderans, Tyr. Taking their aces isn't going to cut the deal." Beka spoke, still avoiding looking directly at him.
"What do you have in mind?" Rommie met his eyes head on.
"You'll see." He promised, fingers just barely grazing her own as he moved past. "Allow me to play diplomat."
*
"That simple." Noguchi stated, staring at the view screen and approaching craft it showed. Turning, she lifted pleading hands to her commanding officer. "Come on, Rommie, it can't be that simple. What did he do this time?"
"I have no idea." The avatar smiled darkly, edgily. "And at the moment I find it unimportant. The family is as whole as it will ever be now. Enjoy the moment, Ensign. There will be time enough for confessions later. Let's go greet the captain."
*