~~~*~~~~ Chapter 5 ~~~*~~~

When civilizations, like flames, are doused the embers can in time spark to flame again.
--Treatise on the rise and Fall of the Commonwealth

Ixta Victrin-Jae, Royal Historian, CY 11, 445

"Missed one what?" Dylan was almost afraid to hear Regent Fortnoy's answer.

"One of the crafty zealots outwitted my security staff."

"Are they a threat?"

"Dangerous? Yes, yes! They've murdered babes whilst they slept! Most of these religious fanatics live sheltered lives, content to rub their noses in dusty tomes and piled plans. Others, well, others will jump at any excuse to die for their cause. We thought we'd gotten them all. Underestimated their intelligence ... and their gall." His scowl mutated into a silent snarl.

Alarmed, Dylan stood and leaned over the Regent. "And one is on my ship?" he hissed, searching the crowd for Rommie.

The Regent grasped his forearm with fingers long enough to wrap all the way around. "Rest assured, Captain Hunt, I've dispatched my finest guards to find the zealot and ... take care of the problem."

"I hope you aren't offended if I send my own security after the person, too," he said. "Excuse me." He strode swiftly to the view screen and summoned Andromeda again.

^j^

Tyr leaned against the hull of the Eureka Maru impatiently. His fingers drummed on the metal, filling the bay with a sound like running mice. Rommie stood nearby, arms crossed, seemingly lost in thought.

"A trip to the surface for food and wine was a waste of fuel," Tyr stated as though the fact were obvious.

She was about to answer when the door to the Maru whooshed open to reveal a smiling Beka Valentine; her blond curls pulled up at the back of her head. They bounced when she moved, giving her a deceptively innocent schoolgirl look.

"Man, that place is great! Dim romantic lighting year round. Mild breezes. All the Rakean Worm wine you can drink. Cheap, cheap, cheap! They make the stuff, export it. It's a real moneymaker."

Rommie frowned. "Why is it called Rakean wine if it's made on Solta?"

Tyr and Beka exchanged knowing looks. Rommie might have access to an enormous database of information, but she was still new to being 'human.' Sometimes, her interpretations of the data in her ship self's archives was a bit unusual.

"That's the eighth mystery of the universe there, Rommie," Beka humored her with a wide smile. "Help with this stuff before we get mobbed. I've heard how these people can go through their free food."

She ducked back into the Maru with Tyr close behind. He studied the view she presented him with mild amusement. This was the first entertaining moment in Dylan's latest charade.

Beka heard him purr softly, deep in his throat. She threw him a look over her shoulder. "What was that, Tyr?"

His gaze whipped up from her lower extremities to meet her intense blue eyes. "I was ... admiring the dress. Blue with gold sparkles looks much better on you than me."

She waggled her pale blond eyebrows. Dangerous emotions flitted past deep inside her iridescent eyes. "Rommie tried to get you in a dress?"

He looked momentarily flustered. Sometimes, she came up with the most bizarre comments.

Beka suppressed a laugh but couldn't keep the wide grin from her face.

Rommie carried a case of Worm wine out of the Maru's cargo hold and down the ramp to the Andromeda. After watching her go, he ogled the First Officer while she wasn't looking. He just couldn't help it. The dress was too formfitting. The Captain of the Maru bent at the waist to pick up and stack some of the smaller containers of food. She piled them high. The top one began to wobble.

He reached past her and steadied it, one hand on her shoulder, hip pressed against her back. "Careful," he murmured, "wasting it will mean another trip to that wretched little planet."

Her breath caught in her throat at the unexpected physical contact. His deep voice near her ear made her shiver. For a moment her emotions reeled. She couldn't think of a response, so she just stood there, eyes wide, barely breathing.

He moved back after a very long moment, pleased with himself. As a Nietzschean, his senses were so sensitive that he could hear the wild pound of her heart, smell the dizzying scent of the sudden spurt of pheromones her body gave off, almost feel the torrent of emotions in her. They'd danced around attraction for nearly two years, since they'd first come aboard the Andromeda. Technically, she wasn't good enough for him. She was human, had succumbed to a Flash addiction, and above all ... wasn't Nietzschean. For some unfathomable reason, he still found himself drawn to her. He resisted, yet caught himself staring. Occasionally, his feet would carry him back and forth outside her door. When he realized his actions, he would beret himself all the way back to his quarters for his weakness. Even if the need to procreate were paramount, inferior offspring would not suit the one man who could control all of the Prides. He was the one person in control of the remains of the founder of Nietzschean society. That fact alone gave him the right, the power to rule all of the Prides if they did not kill him first. This power meant he must have superior offspring ... as many as possible.

Beka reached for another container then snatched back her hand quickly when she noticed it trembling. Damn, him! She knew he could tell what his proximity did to her. That really pissed her off. He did it on purpose just to get a rise out of her. Normally, she told herself, she wouldn't go all mushy and weak-kneed. But, being cooped up on the Andromeda with only Tyr, Dylan and Harper for viable male company ... well, Tyr and Dylan anyway, made it much easier to notice them. Dylan all but ignored her, still pining for the 300-year-old ghost of his fiancé. Now Tyr was trying to ... what? Undermine her confidence? Use her as a conquest to satisfy urges his hand didn't satisfy?

Angry, she hefted the containers and whirled. She gave him a sour look as she stomped out of the Maru. He stared after her, bewildered, then picked up the remaining containers and followed with a smirk. Fire was a wonderful quality in a woman.

^j^

Rayna pinned Harper against the wall of his room, trailing kisses along his cheek and neck. Deftly, she removed his blue and gold sparkle shirt. He grabbed her and kissed her; amazed that she didn't run when she saw his pasty white chest. It had been ages since he'd surfed and tanned. He didn't even want to tell her about the Magog larvae still hibernating wrapped around his innards. She leaned into him, her body making promises.

She pulled back suddenly and yanked her tunic off over her head, revealing a form-fitting white undergarment. Harper's eyes widened when he saw a knife strapped to either forearm, a small pulse pistol holstered over her shoulder and several other items he couldn't identify attached to her body. He was certain they were all weapons.

"Wow!" he exclaimed in surprise, "You got more weapons than a Nietzschean fleet!"

She chuckled deep in her throat, bending to raise her skirt to her knee. She unhooked a leg holster cradling another pulse pistol.

"Sheesh, you're not gonna unhook all of those are ya? We'll be here forever." She glanced up at him with a sly grin. Her emerald eyes narrowed. "I'm never unarmed."

He raised his eyebrows. "Rough planet or lousy job?"

"Both and more. Self preservation." She piled weapons on the small table near the bed. "And I work for the Regent. I'm in the Guard." She flopped onto his bed, long legs stretched out. She plucked a stuffed teddy bear from between his two pillows and turned it over twice. "A friend?" she asked, amused.

He snatched it from her and tossed it into the nearby bathroom. "A gift ... a gift from a purple pixie friend of mine."

She didn't question him. Instead, she patted the pillow beside her in a manner that left little doubt.

He swallowed in a throat gone dry and tight. He dove onto the bed and let her long arms envelop him.

^j^

"And this is Jessica. She's an Acquilian fern." Trance fingered the leaves of the draping red and black plant lovingly.

"Mm, never heard of them. Lovely ... foliage."

"Yeah." She smiled proudly. "I think so too."

Morsay turned in place, taking in all of the plants in the Hydroponics Bay. "Only a very few of these would grow on Solta. Our light level is much too low."

"That's why you're a planet of predators," Trance said. "Nearly everything in the food chain is carnivorous."

He stared at her, surprise making his high forehead wrinkle.

She shrugged and blushed a deep violet. "I did my homework. It just ... it seemed right somehow."

He gave her a debonair grin, sidling over to her.

She fluffed the Acquilian fern, her side to Morsay. He stopped close enough to her that she could hear his rapid breathing, smell the sickly sweet scent of old wine and sweat that oozed from him.

He leaned forward, pressing his chest against her shoulder and pushing her firmly against the metal table holding the plants. He placed a hand on either side of her then casually caressed the leaves of the plant. "Exquisite," he murmured.

"Jessica?" she whispered, looking at everything except him.

"You, Little One. On my planet we have a delightful candy in your exact shade."

"Oh, um, really?" she said, pushing against the arm in front of her. "You know, Leto over there is a gorgeous—"

He interrupted her, "Didn't you say you had more plants to show me in your quarters?"

"Ah, well. I do, but ... " Her gaze darted around the room. She bit the inside of her lip, mind racing. "No one goes in there but me, not even Rommie. It's just ... kinda like a sanctuary, you know?" She shoved against his arm hard.

He gently blew on the flowers adorning her hair and held his arm firmly in place, trapping her. "I wouldn't despoil it."

Alarmed, she tried to duck under his arm. He blocked her. Attraction was one thing and so was flirting, but this was entirely different. She already had her heart set on someone she knew quite well. She ducked again. His arms tightened around her convulsively.

She elbowed him viciously in the ribs. He gasped and stepped back, allowing just enough room for her to slip away. His hand shot out and gripped her upper arm hard enough to bruise.

Her eyes widened in fear.

He yanked her back, her face close to his. "I've been more than gracious. And it isn't right to tease," he hissed low.

"I wasn't ... I didn't mean ... I just thought you'd like to meet my family," she stammered.

"Now it's too late," he said simply, baring pointed teeth.

^j^

With long easy strides, Tyr caught up to Beka. Her quick short steps made her backside sway in a way that effected Tyr more than he would ever admit. She was only human, after all. Inferior. Still ... .

He purposely matched his pace to hers, staying a few steps behind, watching and enjoying. The ten boxed containers of wine he carried were as light to him as he imagined Beka to be.

She forced her way through the crowd and placed her boxes of food on the end of the table. Glancing over her shoulder, she almost grinned when she saw the crowd ignore him. He had to weave through the aliens when she was certain he was used to everyone stepping aside for him. She felt her cheeks burn when she noticed his gaze was firmly fixed on her backside.

Biting back a smile, she worked with quick efficiency to refill the empty food trays on the table.

He was beside her a moment later matching her movements. She couldn't resist stealing a glance at the view he presented when he bent to set the boxes of wine on the floor behind the table. One corner of her mouth turned up. His form-fitting leather pants were definitely nice.

He stood quickly and peered at her. She flushed the picture of wide-eyed innocence. He blinked in confusion. They both looked away quickly. She dropped a pastry and fumbled with the next two. As he replaced empty wine containers with full ones, he allowed himself a small smile.

^j^

Rayna stretched her arms over her head with contented cat-like grace. Just then, the communicator on the back of her hand beeped. She tapped it and raised it to her ear. After a moment, she peered at it then sighed deeply.

"What's up, Babe? Curfew?"

She sat up on the side of the bed. "Nothing important."

"Look I hate to break the mood, y'know, but I gotta make ceecee before my eyeballs float away." He smiled and dashed to the nearby bathroom in only his short white socks. He paused at the door. "The encore starts in a minute, Sweet Cakes. Don't bail on me."

"How could I?" she asked in a voice as smooth as honey.

His mouth dropped open and he ducked inside, shutting the door.

She stood, scooped up her clothing and dressed with lightning quick efficiency. She donned her weapons as she strode to the bathroom door. Pulling a mini pulse pistol equipped with a silencer, she stopped and fired at the lock. It sparked in silent protest. She sniffed at the acrid scent of burnt wiring, waving it aside and returned her pistol to its holster.

"Rayna?" he called.

She gave the bathroom door a smirk, with a fluid movement, turned on her heel, and was striding through the corridor before he realized he was trapped. She had a mission to accomplish.

^j^

Something snapped inside Trance at the surety of Morsay's tone. Her temper snapped. Her tail whipped up and slapped him upside the head, knocking him to the floor. How dare he?

"No means no," she snapped, then turned and bolted into the hallway desperate to get to her quarters.

A few moments later Trance's heart leapt. Pounding footsteps echoed in the corridor behind her. She let out a little squeak when she realized he was chasing her. Slipping into a cross-corridor, she ran into the shadows and pressed her back to the cold metal of the wall.

The footsteps slowed at the intersection. In the distance, she heard partygoers shriek and the sound of drunken laughter. She winced and frantically searched the corridor for a hiding place. This one had few rooms, all of them much further down. The corridor, like the rest of the ship, was bathed in shadows in deference to their alien guests. It crossed her mind to call out to Rommie, have her activate her internal defenses and knock Morsay unconscious. She wrung her hands. Calling on the ship, however, might endanger negotiations, put the peace treaty in jeopardy. She couldn't do that. It would break Dylan's heart and interfere with the one perfect future. He had to get his fifty worlds.

"Trance? My little violet vixen, I can almost smell you," the stalker taunted, his voice slurring a little.

She bit her lower lip, gaze darting into the shadows once more. Glancing up she saw a single narrow beam crossing near the ceiling. It was her only hope.

TBC in ch 6