Beka was sorting through her tiny cabin on the Maru as she did about twice a year, always vowing to throw out everything that she didn't need. As she was still doing it twice a year, she had never yet succeeded. She didn't suppose that she would this time, but it never ceased to prove an amusing jog down a messy memory lane.

In a moment of... high emotion, she had tossed out Tyr's chainmail shirt into the hangar where her Maru rested. When she had later returned to her ship, the little pile of metal links had taken her by surprise, and she picked it up without thinking. She had progressed halfway to her bunk when she realized what she held, and by then, she had reasoned, it was too much effort to go and throw it out again.

Now she held it, feeling the cool, heavy weight of the mail and the faint metallic odor that rose around it. Funny, she had never noticed that acrid scent on Tyr. The chainmail triggered a thousand memories she didn't know she possessed any longer, and she realized that she was recalling Tyr and the old days without bitterness or sad wonderment or even a trace of melancholy. Mostly she smiled as she remembered and chuckled at the empty room.

A vibration in the Maru's deck told its captain that someone had come aboard. Beka jerked to her feet and dropped the chainmail to fall in a rippling heap. Momentary confusion stilled her—most of the Andromeda's crew knew better than to sneak onto the Maru without asking her permission, and the heavy footfalls she now heard didn't sound like any of the few she didn't mind entering her ship without warning, namely Harper, Trance, Rommie, or Dylan.

A tall man with bronze skin and dark hair appeared in her doorway. She sighed. Telemachus Rhade was presuming an intimacy with her that she really didn't appreciate, to come aboard her ship this way. She folded her arms and favored him with an impatient look.

He began without preamble. "We're receiving a distress signal from the Pratolcha system."

Beka quirked an eyebrow. "Pratolcha? Now, where do I know that name from?" She thought for a few seconds, and then a neuron fired in just the right place. "We have a planet there, don't we—some Dragan slave planet the Andromeda Ascendant single-handedly rescued from their evil clutches?"

Telemachus gave a short nod. "The world is called Perses."

"Oh yeah, I remember them now. They re-named their world after the, what, mythical daughter of Andromeda?" She bit back a laugh. The Persese must have done a lot of research to dig up some old Earth story for their new name.

This time Telemachus's nod was distracted as his eyes wandered to the silvery pile. "Mm." His gaze sharpened. "Beka, what is that?"

She resisted a strong urge to kick the item aside and dismiss it as nothing. "It belonged to someone I used to know. Anyway, I really don't see what business it is of yours what I keep on my ship, so long as it's not a danger to anybody."

As he glared, the Nietzschean ignored her words. "It's Tyr's, isn't it? Listen, Beka, I know that you had feelings for him, but he betrayed you and the Andromeda and the Commonwealth itself! I know what happened when you traveled to his planet, before he... fell to the Abyss."

Telemachus was too busy riling his anger and glaring holes through the chainmail to notice Beka's sudden, dangerous look. "How can you keep anything that reminds you of him, after all that? You can't still be pining for that traitor."

Before he could react, Beka had taken two strides to stand less than a foot from his face. Her voice could be heard three decks away. "How dare you?!" Telemachus took a startled step backward. "How dare you presume to tell me what I feel, what I know, and especially what I can or can't do?!"

Telemachus continued to step away from Beka, who continued her harangue as she backed him against the closed door. "You know what happened, do you? Tell me, Lieutenant Commander, formerly Admiral of the Tarazed High Guard, were you there? Were you one of Tyr's slave girls?" She looked him up and down. "I would think the goatee would be dead giveaway, but maybe you grew it out later."

"Beka, I think that's hardly—"

"And, you know, I think I should remind that you that possession is still 9/10ths of Commonwealth law and that private property is just that." Her voice had quieted somewhat, but now it rose again as another thought struck her. "Besides, what do you know about betrayal anyway, Telemachus Rhade? Last I heard, the Commonwealth was holding your ass for treason, and Dylan's gallant rescue—which you have to thank for your freedom and probably your life—nearly landed him a hard labor life sentence."

She cocked her head in mock confusion. "So if one were to believe the 'facts' about Tyr's betrayal, wouldn't it be reasonable to believe the 'facts' about yours?"

"You know I didn't betray anyone," Telemachus said, trying to assert himself.

"I know? Tell me, how exactly do I know? For all I know, you're in league with Tyr, the Drago-Kazov, and the Magog." His expression changed rapidly as she spoke, from mild surprise to outright shock to outrage. "All right, maybe not the Magog," she conceded. "But I'd really like to know when I became all-knowing, and speaking of knowing, I bet there's a lot of things about Tyr you don't know. Like the time he saved Harper's life and nearly drowned in doing so, or when we were almost eaten by a giant space-thing and he kept me going by insisting that Dylan was alive when I 'knew' he was dead."

Beka's voice fell. "Look, I realize that the chances that he did betray us are like 999,999 out of a million, and not that it's any of your damn business, but I'm not pining after him. Even so, he saved our lives dozens of times, and we had some good moments." She shook her head. "So don't come in here and tell me what you think you know about Tyr Anasazi now or ever again." She jerked her head in the direction of the door. "Get out."

Telemachus looked like he wanted badly to say something, but he restrained himself and left without a word. Beka let out a breath she felt she'd been holding for a year and buried her head in her hands. On second thought, maybe she had been a little too hard on Rhade. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if a little shiny-eyed when it came to Dylan. She studied the chainmail and decided to leave it where it was. Hadn't Telemachus mentioned a distress call or something? She thought she'd better leave now and finish her travail here later.