Echoes of future past, part 40

Beka tabbed the com-system, "Harper, we REALLY need slipstream!"

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Several hundred light years away, the Nietzschean fighter exited slipstream before a rag-tag fleet of ship. The pilot smiled as he hailed the lead ship, "Inform Fleet Marshall Ataturk: we have found the Andromeda Ascendant, and she is dead in the water." One by one, the Nietzschean ship's headed for slipstream.

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The Maru exited slipstream at a point in space long ago agreed on, and Trance unbuckled herself from the pilots seat and made her way back to the crew quarters. Rev Bem was sat at the mess table, examining a flexi, "You say that this is how the Engine of Creation needs to be re assembled?" Trance shrugged, "It's what I was told." Rev Bem raised an eyebrow, "If I am permitted to ask: told by whom?" Trance shrugged again, "To tell you the truth, I don't know: best guess would be the same being you met on Empyrium."

This got the Wayist's attention, "You mean…" Trance smiled, "I think we're working for the same person. Now help me clear a space." Rev Bem nodded, and the two of them started to re-arrange furniture so that there was enough room to assemble the Engine of Creation. When they where done, trance started the boxes she had recovered from her farther, and set about assembling the device, Rev Bem reading the instructions out to her.

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Beka almost jumped out of her skin when Andromeda reported that a Nietzschean Cruiser had exited slipstream. She was even more surprised when it hailed them instead of firing. Charlemagne Bolivar's face appeared on the main screen, "Well, well, well, Captain Valentine, or should I say Captain Anasazi, fancy seeing you here." Beka smiled slightly, "Charlemagne: you're very well informed, as usual." The Sabra-Jaguar Arch-Duke laughed, "I keep a close eye on people I find interesting, including you and your new husband." Beka leaned forwards, "Now the pleasantries are done with: why are you here?"

Charlemagne shrugged, "I was wondering where you where: there is one hell of a party going back on Mobius, and you're missing it." Beka's face tightened slightly, "We're not in the partying mood. Plus, our engines are off line and we just had a fly-by from a Drago-Kazov recon-fighter." The Nietzschean jumped to his feet, "Forgive me, but I was under the impression that they where extinct!" Beka shrugged, "Reports of their demise where obviously exaggerated." Charlemagne turned to one of his aids, "Launch slip couriers: have the rest of the fleet converge on this location." He turned back to Beka; "We will end this, once and for all!"

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Trance gently lifted the last component of the Engine of Creation and lowered it into place, "Ok, dose this look right to you?" Rev Bem looked at the flexi, and then back to the assembled device, "As far as I can tell, we put it together correctly: we won't know until we try and use it. What exactly are we going to do?" Trance shrugged, "Yet again, I don't know: I was told to bring it here, assemble it, and wait."

A bright light filled the Maru from stem to stern, blinding Trance and Rev Bem. The Engine of Creation started to hum, then glowed all over, fusing into one piece. It lifted up and floated in the air, a few centimetres above the deck. It started to rotate, slowly at first, but building up speed. Lose pieces of paper where lifted up off of the deck as the spinning machine created a whirlwind, forcing Trance and Rev Bem to grab hold of the bulkhead for support.

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A pair of Sabra-Jaguar destroyers exited slipstream and took up covering positions alongside the Andromeda and Charlemagne's ship. Beka stood at the airlock, waiting for the Nietzscheans ship to dock, Tyr at her side. The door opened, and Charlemagne stepped through, followed by two of his personal bodyguards, "Captain, Commander. I'm surprised that Dylan isn't here to great me." Beka's face fell slightly, "The mission to destroy the Point Singularity Projector suffered casualties: Dylan's been comatose since he returned." Charlemagne nodded, "I take it that your ship's Avatar didn't make it then. Don't look so shock, you yourself said that I was very well informed: I may not understand the attraction, other than purely physical, but it is slightly poetic: a warrior in love with a WarShip."

Tyr was slightly confused, "But why are you here?" Charlemagne looked at the taller man, "To put it bluntly, you: my spies in the smaller Prides have been bringing roomers of a joint effort to strike back at you for that little stunt you pulled, pretending to be the genetic reincarnation of Drago Musevini. I must say Tyr old chap, well done: it was a plan worthy of a Jaguar! The war that it resulted in hurt them suavely, and someone has been using it to stir up trouble. We have been unable to find out whom, but I think it's now obvious that it must be our old friend, Fleet Marshall William Ataturk of the Drago-Kazov."

Beka blinked, "What do they want?" Charlemagne looked her in the eye, a hint of sadness in his own, "Yours husbands head, on a silver platter, and if their inelegance is as good as mine, yours and that of your unborn son as well."

To Be Continued