A/N: Songs by Trance Atkins. (No, Samantha, he did NOT invent the Atkins diet!)

Chapter 9

Beka woke up in the morning, got a shower, and started doing some small repair work on the Maru while blasting some ancient Earth CD's.

"Where the hell is Rhade?" she asked of no one in particular as one of her favorite songs came on. It was sad, but Beka thought more than half the time it referred to her life.

"All I can do/ is all I can do./ But I keep on trying./ All I can be/ is all I can be/ but I keep on trying..."

That made up Beka's mind. She would have to go find Rhade. Apparently he had taken her walking away too hard, so...

Beka sat down hard. I have to admit that I love him!?! "Oh my God," she said finally. "I don't want to."

You idiot! the voice in her head announced. Go to him now or loose him forever!

"All I can do/ is all I can do/ but I keep on trying..."

Beka reached up and hit 'SKIP' on the player. But what if he rejects me? she couldn't help but think. What if after all this he doesn't want me?

Then he would have come back, the voice countered.

"This ain't no thinking thing/ right brain, left brain/ it goes a little deeper than that./ It's a chemical, physical, emotional devotion/ feeling that we can't hold back..."

Beka could have screamed. "Shut up Trance!" she yelled, ejecting her CD. Stop putting this off, she ordered herself, carefully putting her CD away in the hiding spot she used to keep them safe from her brother. She walked to the airlock and sighed, holding her hand over the sensor to open it. She walked out past the customs officer and onto the busy street.

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Beka retraced her steps until she was back in the alleyway. There was not delightfully beefy Nietzschean waiting for her. "Damn, Rhade where'd you go?" she whispered, walking into the bar.

"Hey, Max!" she greeted the bartender. It was empty save for a Nietzschean passed out on a table.

"Beka!" he greeted her warmly. "The usual?"

"Nah, just water," she said when the kindly old man reached for a glass.

"I saw your wanted poster," he said calmly, reaching for a dusty, little used tap. "800,000 thrones! No, I ain't gonna turn you in," he added, seeing the look on Beka's face. "just to spite the Collector's I'd let you go."

Beka laughed, taking the glass.

"Did'ya come to collect your friend?" Max asked, nodding at the Nietzschean.

Beka turned around. "Oh my God, it's Rhade!" she gasped, putting the glass down and rushing over to him.

"Telekatmus Raday?" Max asked. "the one that escaped the Collector's mind control?"

Beka didn't ask how he knew that, just nodding in agreement and sitting next to Telemachus. "Andromeda's dead in space," she explained. "Blew out her Slipstream drive."

If Beka had been looking she would have seen a sparkle in Max's eye. "That's interesting," he muttered. "Very interesting.

Beka didn't hear him as she slapped Rhade across the face, trying to wake him up.

"I, uh, have to get something from the back," Max said, quickly walking away.

Beka didn't give the retreating bartender a second look. "Wake up, Rhade," she ordered, slapping him again. "Wake up," she whispered as Telemachus groaned and his eyes fluttered open.

"Where am I?" he groaned, holding his head.

"A bar," Beka responded, moving to put her arm over his shoulders before quickly drawing it back. Dammit, why did she feel so nervous?

Telemachus winced. "Stop yelling."

Beka smiled, sympathetic with his hangover. "You alright?"

"I expect I will be later," Telemachus replied, massaging his temples.

"Drink this," Beka told him, handing him her glass. "It's water."

Telemachus drained it, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked at Beka. After a beat or two he turned away, as if embarrassed.

Beka reached out hesitantly and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him like she'd never let him go.

Telemachus turned in surprise, and Beka let go quickly. "Sorry," she muttered.

"No, it was..." Telemachus paused, searching for the right word.

"Let's get back to the Maru," Beka cut him off, rising.

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Max hurried out the back door, looking over his shoulder many times. He ran into a deserted warehouse and powered up a console, obviously shiny and new.

"Sir, it's Max."

"You have something to report?" a male voice snapped. No visual appeared on the viewscreen, just the insignia of the Collectors.

"Andromeda is dead in the water," Max said, mentally cursing himself with every word. "She has no Slipstream drive."

"That is very good news," the voice said. "Your family is safe from being exterminated. For now." The transmission immediately cut off.

Max cursed himself and wiped his sweaty brow. How he hated the Collectors, but if he didn't follow their orders, his family would be killed. They had forced him to deliver the shapeshifter Terla, and now he had betrayed the trust of an old friend. "What Beka doesn't know won't hurt her," he told himself.

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The man on the other end of the transmission turned in his chair to face his boss,

"This is good news," Pish Tryan announced. "I will finally be able to crush the Andromeda. She cannot run if this report is to be believed so we have her right where we want her. It will be an easy matter to find her if she cannot move." Pish clenched his fist in triumph. "I want as much force as you can get me," he addressed the small man in the chair below. "I don't care what authorization codes you use; this opportunity won't come again."

The man nodded and placed headphones over his ears, tapping something on his console.

"Now Dylan Hunt," Pish whispered. "You are mine."