A/N: Hello once more my loyal reader people! I would like to apologize for such a long gap between chapters, Life seriously got to me and wouldn't let go. But I hope this makes up for some of the wait, it's longer than usual. Don't forget to R&R at the end, it'll make me very happy. And I can only write when I'm happy. :-P

Enjoy!

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Chapter 8: Alone

"Do we have control?" Tyr never turned from surveying the view that Andromeda's screens allowed. It was only his own fleet, but it was still magnificent.

The underling moved forward so that he was standing just behind Tyr's right shoulder. "Manual control has been established."

"And the litt- the kludge? Has he shown any signs of rebellion?"

"No, the training appears to be holding."

Tyr nodded once, sharply. "Excellent. Once he has completed his current task, I have a very special one for him."

"Yes milord."

As the underling left Tyr's side, he felt a brief pang of regret. Once more, he pushed it aside. His plan was coming along nicely; he no longer needed the pompous Dylan Hunt or his crew. He had all he needed. Power, wealth, family. He didn't need their friendship any longer.

He kept one ear on the voices around command, ordering, alerting, the occasional awe-struck compliment on the Andromeda's design. Hearing his Second step up behind him, Tyr inwardly tensed. He turned at the quiet query.

"Yes?"

"The kludge has been sent, as you ordered. We are fully in control, and are awaiting your orders."

"Very well." Tyr turned back to the viewscreens. "Get us underway to our first conquest. I am looking forward to this."

"As are we all, my lord." With a small bow, the Second started giving orders, the bridge crew leaping to.

Tyr smiled a small smile. He could get used to this.

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"At least we have food."

"Yeah, a rare bout of mercy on their part."

"That doesn't mean much right now. We don't have much, so without slipdrive, we're gonna starve anyway."

Ensign Marcy sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm just trying to be positive."

Lieutenant Garams looked around the small portion of the crew that had been dumped on his ship. His ship because he was the ranking officer. "I didn't mean to discourage you. I'm sorry."

"I know." Marcy shook her head. "It doesn't matter how many supplies we have if we can't go anywhere or talk to anyone, so I suppose some realism is required."

Garams smiled slightly. "Yeah."

Ensign Jarad'he broke in. "Look at it this way. We can still see Andromeda, so there is always a chance that we can get her back."

"Or if we run into real trouble, they may always come to help us out."

A round of sceptical noises followed that remark. Marcy looked a little peeved. "And didn't the lieutenant just say we needed optimism?"

"Yeah, you're right. It's just tough is all." Crewman Manning was staring out the portside window, watching the Andromeda and the fleet of Nietzchean vessels surrounding her. "I mean, she isn't just our home. She's our friend. And what about Captain Hunt and the bridge crew? Not all of them left with us. Who knows what the Niets are doing to them?"

A silence fell over the cabin then, the crew each pondering their fates and the fates of those who had stayed aboard.

"Um, guys?"

Broken from their thoughts, the crew turned to look at Manning. He didn't look at all happy.

"Yeah?" Garams prayed it wasn't more bad news. His prayer went unheard.

"The Andromeda. The fleet. They're moving out. They're leaving."

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Dylan paced another length of the small cell. Then another. And another. His blood was boiling over as he thought over recent events.

Rommie had been shut down, his crew, the ones who had followed orders, were stranded in a dead system, the crew that were stubbornly loyal were locked away in their own brig, held by a former crewmate and friend, while that same former friend held one of their number captive doing Divine-knows-what to him.

Dylan was not happy. Not at all.

He paced another length of the room, spinning his wheels trying to think of a way out. He had tried talking to Trance, but she was being even more evasive than usual, and that it was her who had insisted they surrender was not helping.

With a frustrated sigh, he folded himself down on the shelf. Leaning against the wall, he ran a hand through his hair. It didn't help.

With a growl, he threw himself up and began pacing again.

"Dylan, would you stop that? I'm getting dizzy listening to you."

He stopped mid-pace and chuckled suddenly. "You can get dizzy listening to someone?"

"Yeah," Beka's voice held a trace of amusement, "it comes from having an active imagination. I know what you're doing, and I know that if I was watching it, it would make me dizzy, so listening has the same basic affect."

"Huh." Dylan thought for a moment. "Weird."

He sat down again, slightly more relaxed than before.

Then he felt an unmistakable jolt. He was alert in an instant, though what good it did him while in the brig, he didn't know. A voice a moment later and he knew he wasn't the only one to have felt it.

"Slipstream." Rhade said, Beka an instant later.

"Yeah," Dylan sat up as they exited the stream, another jolt running through the ship. "The question is, to where?"

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Tyr surveyed the distant beauty of the planet Suleiss. Behind him on the bridge, his crew worked to prepare for their takeover.

Soon, he thought, triumph building within him.

"Sir, we are ready."

"All ahead full. Arm weapons. Have slipfighters prepare for launch."

As his second once more barked out his orders, Tyr smiled. Life was very good.

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"Ensign, are the comms up yet?"

"Almost. This better work."

"It will. I learned this from Harper himself." Manning looked proud of himself as he guided Marcy through the steps it would take to get the comms back. Garams supposed that it was a blessing that they had gotten one of the best engineers on the Andromeda, but he wondered how well broadcasting would work if no one else had theirs up.

A sudden burst of static and a female voice heralded the success of the 'engineering' pair. Garams gave them the thumbs up before turning his attention to the task at hand. He listened for a moment.

"This is .... –elly of the Andro.... -ease respond.... I repeat.... Commander Martelly of the.... Does anyone cop-...."

"Can you clear it up?"

"I'll try." Marcy moved out of the way as Manning tweaked a few more circuits. The static on the line lessened and Garams leaned forward to respond.

"This is Lieutenant Garams of the Andromeda Ascendant. We hear you Commander."

"Thank the Divine." Martelly sounded relieved to hear another voice. "We've been broadcasting since the Niets left. You are the first to respond."

"Well, we're just glad there's someone else with their comms up."

Martelly laughed. "Yeah, it got boring talking to myself. Now, are you the ranking officer?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright. What's your inventory and personnel?"

"There's twenty of us on this boat. It's an old fighter, but it's been completely disarmed. The slipdrive is also broken, and without proper parts, it's beyond repair. We have eleven crewmen, two environmental sciences officers, a drill sergeant, five ensigns and me, a lieutenant."

"Anything useful in the way of equipment?"

"Not really. We had to tear out some of the nav hardware to repair our comms."

"How much food and water do you have?"

"Enough to last us about a month on tight rationing."

"Alright. I'm going to keep on broadcasting, maybe some of the other ships will get their comms up soon. I want you and your group to try and fix those weapons and figure out what you need to fix the slipdrive. Report back every hour."

"Understood. Garams out."

He looked up at his crew. They looked back at him. The ship was silent.

"Well," he said, "you heard the commander. Let's get to work!"

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Dylan woke from his fitful doze at the sound of footsteps. Loud footsteps.

Since being thrown into the brig, The guards hadn't come near the cells.

Swinging his legs off the cot, Dylan stood, watching the entrance to the cell. He saw a shadow, and then a figure walked past. A voice rang out and the figure turned towards Dylan.

Seeing the face, Dylan froze, shocked.

"Harper?"