BIRTHRIGHT
by Soledad
Author's notes:
For disclaimer, rating, warnings, etc., see the Prologue.
I had to break the originally planned Chapter 2 in two parts because it has become too long. This part is simply a rewrite of A Rose in the Ashes, and so some of the dialogue is taken from the original episode. Not because I'm too lazy or too stupid to write a different dialogue, but because I wanted to take the original and make something different out of it. Just to get that straight, before someone starts accusing me of plagiarism. And yes, it was my conscious choice to make the Arazian receptionist male.
The reason for writing this chapter in the first place was that the old cliché of Heroic Captain™ beating single-handedly a weird prison world and its high-tech automated defences by charming the female inmates out of their pea-sized minds angered me to no end. It was a stupid idea during the Original Trek already, and by repetition, it doesn't get any better. Contrary to what certain screenwriters might think, not all women are idiots. Besides, I'm more for the ensemble action, which is why I left out the events happening on Helios IX completely.
CHAPTER 3 – THE JAILBREAK
For a moment Tyr thought he'd misunderstood Beka. "What do you mean you 'lost' them?" he demanded.
"I meant that the minute they stepped into the Council Chamber, Andromeda lost the signal," Beka's tired voice answered. "That was yesterday."
"Hmmm," Tyr thought about it for a moment. "Sounds like a hostage situation to me. All right; I'm coming to the command deck. Hold on for a minute."
He broke the connection before Beka could have protested and turned to his wife. "Freya, you should escort our…passenger to Trance, so that she could find her some quarters. And please, stay with them. We might have to bail Dylan out of his so-called negotiations; it could become ugly. I want you near to med deck, just in case."
Freya nodded. Under different circumstances, she'd have taken offence, but in her present condition she agreed with Tyr. Her first imperative right now was to protect her unborn child.
"Don't worry about us," she said. Tyr gave her a long hard kiss, then he headed for the command deck.
Reaching his destination, namely the command deck, he found Beka standing at the command position, Harper fixing something with one of the Perseids who'd just joined the crew as 'observers' of the Sinti government, and Glittering Starlight, the intelligent and sarcastic Ruby Than in the slipstream chair. While members of the bright red Ruby caste were usually specialists in technology and building, some of them chose to combine those talents with piloting skills and were unbeatable as slipstream pilots. Glittering Starlight had turned out to be one of these rare individuals, and as the tough carapace of the bugs could bear the strain of slipstream piloting better than the average human body – which was the reason that the High Guard had hired Than pilots on its warships – Beta gladly shared pilot duty with her.
One of the dark green Emerald Than warriors was standing at the fire controls but stepped to the side hurriedly as Tyr strode in. All Than had been instructed by their leader, Born To Starfire, not to provoke the ship's resident Nietzschean – or his wife.
Tyr took over his controls with the familiar feeling of slipping on a pair of well-worn gloves. It gave him a heady feeling of power every time, and he took extra care not the reveal the rush handling Andromeda's powerful weapons always gave him.
"Ship," he said in the clipped tone reserved for emergencies, "arm missile tubes one through twenty for a warning strike outside the Arazian capital."
Beka swivelled around with the command chair, glaring daggers at him. "Excuse me? Reality check? What if they're starting a third course of a state dinner?"
Tyr gave a derisive snort. "Oh, really?"
"Tyr," Beka rolled her eyes, "whatever the problem might be, blowing up the countryside would probably not help our situation. In fact, it could get Dylan in grave danger."
"Or Dylan is already dead, in which case we haven't a thing to lose," Tyr pointed out in a tone he hoped was reasonable.
Unfortunately, humans had a different idea about reasonable actions – although both Than waggled with their antennae in agreement – and so did, apparently, artificial intelligences with High Guard programming.
"In the old days, we had a way of dealing with situations like this," the image of Andromeda announced from the computer screen. "We talked to people. Sometimes they even listened."
"Talked!" Tyr snorted again. "Small wonder the Commonwealth did not prevail. A greater wonder, actually, that it lasted so long."
Beka glanced at the ceiling, fighting for patience. "If you don't mind, I'd like to try it. It might actually work, you know."
"Good luck," Tyr replied darkly. "You'll need it."
Beka shook her head in exasperation. "Nietzscheans and their 'blow 'em up first, ask questions later' policy! Andromeda, contact Councillor Min for me."
A second later the main viewscreen blinked to life, and a…person, veiled with one of those eye-hurtingly bright orange shrouds, appeared on it.
"Councillor Min's office," he said; yes, it was definitely a man, although the concept of a man wearing an orange veil seemed silly to Tyr. On the other hand, of course, it was an excellent disguise, especially on a viewscreen, where the voice got modified by electronics and the personal scent couldn't be recognized. Maybe the Arazians weren't such fools, after all.
"How do you wish to be announced?" the Arazian representative asked.
Beka straightened in the command chair, wishing for a moment to have Tyr's looming presence. Sometimes big and menacing worked nicely on bureaucrats.
"This is Beka Valentine, first officer of the starship Andromeda Ascendant," she said in the best official tone she could manage. "I'm looking for our captain, Dylan Hunt. He was meeting with the High Council."
"I'm sorry," the veil revealed nothing, but the man's gaze in the eye slits was cold, "I can't help you."
"I see," Beka said with deceptive sweetness. "Maybe I should speak to the Councillor directly then. I'm sure he would be able to tell me where his guest of honour might be."
The receptionist remained completely unfazed. "Do you have an appointment?"
"Do I need one?" Beka asked back in surprise that wasn't entirely fake. "I don't want an audience, you know. All I want to ask him is where our captain might be."
"Councillor Min doesn't talk to anyone without an appointment," the representative informed her flatly.
"We don't make appointments over such small issues," Tyr growled with barely suppressed rage. This was getting ridiculous, and his patience started running out.
"That's your problem, not mine," the receptionist said. It sounded positively bored. Didn't the idiot realize the danger Andromeda could represent for his planet?
"I am sitting in the command chair of a High Guard battleship orbiting your planet," Beka said in a tightly controlled voice. "Two words from me and a barrage of kinetic warheads will blast you, Councillor Min, and three generations of Arazians back to the Stone Age!"
The receptionist didn't seem impressed.
"I think you still need an appointment," was all he said, then he cut the connection.
Tyr gave Beka a mildly annoyed glare. "Can we blow them up now?"
"We can," Rev Bem answered slowly, "but I doubt very much that it would help us,"
"Why not?" the Emerald Than warrior shrugged. "It might frighten them into cooperation. I'm usually not in favour of Nietzschean methods, but intimidating the – how do humans say? – the hell out of people sometimes works."
"Do you really suggest bombing the countryside, just to make an appointment with the High Council?" Beka asked. She waited for a moment but got no response and nodded to herself. "That's what I figured. We need another solution, folks. One that's a little less bloody but a little more… effective."
"Blowing them up would be effective," Tyr pointed out.
"Hey!" Harper popped up from behind a console where he'd been working on something only a Perseid would understand. "Maybe we're overreacting." The others gave him identically exasperated looks, and he ducked. "C'mon! Okay, look. If I went missing with that fine looking piece of… machinery… I wouldn't want to be found."
"Harper," Beka said with forced patience, "just because you've created Rommie to be the incarnation of your wet dreams, it doesn't mean…"
"Wait," the holo-image of Andromeda, standing on one of the consoles, interrupted. "I'm detecting infrared plumes near the equator."
"Infrared plumes?" Harper repeated, panicking. "Like from a missile launch?"
The hologram gave him a pointed look. "Very much like that, yes"
In the next moment, the ship shook and sparks flew as missiles hit the outer hull. Beta swivelled in the command chair toward the helm and swore.
"Damn it! That's why that guy was so smug! Evasive maneuvers! Andromeda, activate the Point Defence Lasers. Starlight, get us out of here, now!"
"But… but what about Dylan?" the hologram asked, while the ship as a whole was carrying out her orders.
"We can't help him if we're dead," Tyr growled, re-checking the fire controls; they seemed to work, but they couldn't stay here any longer. "We must retreat and regroup. Work out a new plan."
"Besides," Harper added, too cheerfully to be honest, "Dylan is more than three hundred years old. He can take care of himself."
"That," Beka replied dourly, "is one of the famous last words. But Tyr is right. We need a new plan."
About half an hour later, everyone was gathered on the command deck again. Including Trance, the two Perseids, the Than leader and Freya. Only Farrendahl remained in her newly assigned quarters, and the four Amber Than workers in the machine shops.
"I'm open to suggestions, people," Beka said. "We can't just run and hide, and I'll be damned if I left anyone behind, just because a bunch of xenophobes in ugly headdresses don't want to talk to us."
"Arazia seems to have upgraded its planetary defence systems considerably," Tyr growled.
"That's understandable," the Diamond Than riposted, "considering the fact that your people have paid the planet a few visits since the Fall." She spoke Common flawlessly, thank to the miniature vocoder in her throat, save from the small, cackling noises practically all Than gave, even if not speaking their own tongue.
"So have mine, unfortunately," Rev Bem said. "But no defence system is without loopholes. We just need to find the right one."
Tyr rolled his eyes. Rev Bem's talent to state the painfully obvious was getting on his nerves, now that the novelty of having a peaceful and civilized Magog around him had worn off.
"Yes!" Trance pumped a purple fist in the air; unlike Tyr, she always seemed to find Rev's comments the quintessence of ultimate wisdom. "Give me a shuttlecraft and send me down to that planet, and I will have Dylan and Rommie back here by breakfast."
There was a collective snort, and Beka shook her head. "No way, Trance. You are good at finding people, but this is not the mission I'd sent you – or anyone else – alone. It's just too risky."
"Besides, if Dylan isn't in trouble, and remember, we don't know that he is, an outright attack could definitely put him in harm's way," Harper added. "Not to mention that these guys would shoot you in the minute they spot you."
"Well," Trance seemed to think very hard, then her face lit up. "I'll go undercover, then. Hey, I'll be practically invisible. You know I can."
"Because there are hordes of purple girls with tails on Arazia," Tyr snorted, "so that nobody would notice you in that crowd."
"It's too late for that anyway," the computer image of Andromeda said.
Harper glared up at the screen with a frown. "Why do you say that?"
"I just intercepted a classified transmission in the data stream," the AI told him. "Two anti-government activists were shipped off-world at the same time we lost contact. Dylan and my humanoid body aren't on Arazia any more. They've been sent to a prison colony."
There was a long silence after that, Broken by Tyr's cynical comment somewhat later. "So much about Arazia joining the shiny new Commonwealth. I told Dylan it was a bad idea…"
"…and he ignored your warning as always, bla-blah-blah, we all know your complaints by heart, big guy," Harper replied angrily. "Don't you have anything more constructive to say?"
"Well, if he had listened to me, he wouldn't be on his way to a prison colony right now," Tyr pointed out. Which was absolutely true, of course, but didn't make him more popular at the moment.
"If I may," Höhne, the high-ranking representative of the Sinti Perseid colony, raised a hand. Beka nodded.
"By all means," personally, she found Perseids annoying like hell, but at the moment she'd accept any help she could get.
"I believe we can still find Captain Hunt and that excellent android of Mr. Harper," Höhne said. The two Perseids and the engineer had reached the grade of mutual admiration weeks ago. "Since Arazia doesn't have a lot of interstellar traffic…"
"…despite their famous hospitality," Tyr muttered dryly. Höhne didn't let himself be distracted.
"…so it wouldn't be very hard to track their navigational signals and extrapolate their destinations. Someone with the abilities of my young friend Harper here could do so easily."
"Of course," Harper agreed brightly. "The Harper is good."
"Then why doesn't The Harper start working on it at once?" Beka asked sharply. Harper ducked.
"Whoa, boss, don't bite my head off, I'm at it already. Rekeeb," he looked at Höhne's assistant, "care to help me?"
"Why, certainly!" the younger Perseid exclaimed enthusiastically, and they started to search at once, with the remark that it might take some time.
"Doesn't matter," Beka replied tersely. "In the meantime, we can decide what to do, once we found the right signal. Personally, I'm warming up to Tyr's suggestion."
"Blowing up the prison colony?" Rev Bem asked sceptically. Beka shook her head.
"More like taking out the defences and getting Dylan and Rommie out of there. The problem is, Andromeda is too big of a target to miss, and the Maru, tough as she might be, isn't exactly a combat ship."
"What about slipfighters, then?" Tyr asked. "We still have half a dozen of them on the hangar deck. The ones we took from those insane children at Guard Station 92196 are capable of entering a planetary atmosphere to attack surface targets."
"Nice idea, but who'd fly them?" Beta asked. "We're not exactly High Guard soldiers here, and Andromeda might not be able to control them in the atmosphere. Especially since these aren't her own fighters."
Tyr shrugged. "I am a trained slipfighter pilot, even if it's been quite a time since I sat in one of them. But I'm sure some of the green bugs could fly them, too," he added, with a glance in the Diamond Than's direction.
Born to Starfire nodded, taking no offence at the bug remark. "All three of our Emerald warriors are capable of flying a slipfighter, and so is Glittering Starlight."
"That means we can go down with five combat ships, shoot their defences to pieces, and you can follow us in the Maru and free our esteemed captain and the avatar," Tyr said, addressing his words to Beka.
"We can do that," Beka agreed. "But can you tell me why should I trust you in the cockpit of the slipfighter?"
"Because you need me?" Tyr offered with a wolfish grin. "Who else should coordinate the attack?"
"True enough," Beka agreed with a sigh; neither of them trusted the Than enough to leave the action completely in their hands. "All right, gang, saddle up. We're doing a jail-break."
Tyr used the next hour, in which Harper and Rekeeb worked feverishly on the Arazian data, while Höhne and Rev Bem discussed the possible motivation behind the Arazians' hostility, for a quick check of the slipfighters – and their pilots. The three Emerald Than warriors turned out very capable at the controls, just like Glittering Starlight, so he started to look at the planned action with a certain confidence.
"Do you think the result will justify the risks you are taking?" Freya asked, after he'd returned to their quarters.
"The risks aren't that great," Tyr replied with a shrug. "This is not the first time I had to break someone out of prison. And the bugs are really good – I'm reasonably confident that we'll succeed."
"It's not that I won't trust your abilities…or theirs," Freya said, choosing her words carefully. "What I'm asking, is: Do you really need to do this? To free Captain Hunt?"
The question was double-edged, of course, but they were used to talk this way whenever aboard the Andromeda. Freya wasn't really asking if Tyr needed to take part in Dylan's rescue. She was actually asking if Tyr wanted Dylan to be rescued at all. Which was, indeed, a question worth considering. Tyr had considered it himself, during the debate. Was it time to try taking over Andromeda, or should he travel on Dylan's trail a little longer?
To his regret, he found that the time for a takeover wasn't ripe yet. He still needed to work out new alliances, to extend his net of useful contacts within Nietzschean society, to strengthen his influence. And that could be done better while keeping a low profile. In fact, Dylan's insane quest could be helpful for his own purposes. Besides, he didn't have enough reliable allies aboard yet.
"Yes," he answered slowly, "I believe I need to do this."
Freya nodded in acceptance. "It's your decision. Be careful, though."
"Always," Tyr laid a gentle hand on his wife's belly. He didn't say more; for the moment, thy chose to keep Freya's pregnancy secret. It was safer that way, especially with the Than aboard, who had good reasons to hate Nietzscheans in general and the Orca in particular.
"Tyr," the small hologram of Rommie shimmered into existence on his desk, "you are needed on the command deck. Harper's done."
"On my way," Tyr said, and the hologram blinked off.
He found Harper, Beka and the Than standing in a half circle in front of the star map. The little human was gesticulating energetically.
"We've tracked all navigational signals coming from Arazia, Rekeeb and me," he announced. "Only three ships have gone off-world since we got here. We managed to extrapolate their decisions," he looked around expectantly, but nobody seemed to want to compliment him…them. He made an insulted face. "Thank you. No need to overdo the praise, ladies and gentlemen…gentlebeings…whatever. We only did our jobs."
"Harper," Beka said impatiently, "we don't have time for this. Stop pouting and tell us where they've gone."
Harper usually didn't take Beka's mood to the heart, but Tyr could see that this time, the engineer was really hurt. He and Rekeeb worked hard to find the track the others needed, yet nobody cared to appreciate it.
"Well, Number One went to a mining colony," he replied sourly. "Number Two has already gone back to Arazia. So, the shell with a pea under it is right here."
Beka nodded. "Nice work, Harper. Starlight, take the slipstream controls. We're going in."
The others fanned out to man their stations. But Harper remained in front of the star map, disappointment clearly written into his face. Tyr watched him for a moment, considering possibilities, but then he had to brace himself for the entering of slipstream. The ride was half so rough as usual, with the Ruby Than in the slipstream chair, but it never harmed to be careful. Glittering Starlight piloted the ship through slipstream with calm confidence – they barely felt the usual shaking – and brought it out smoothly again.
"Transit to normal space accomplished," she said. Beka nodded.
"Good job, Starlight. Rev, pulls up our surroundings on the viewscreen. Let's see what's out there."
The Magog pushed a few buttons. The viewscreen blinked on again, and showed – nothing but the blackness of space and a few blinking stars.
"There's nothing." Rev Bem stated the obvious, as always. Tyr shot Harper an annoyed look.
"I thought you said the prison colony would be here, boy."
"I did!" Harper said defensively. "The coordinates led right here!"
"I can usually spot a planet," Tyr said with biting irony. "They're large. I have good eyes."
Harper shrugged. "I dunno," he replied dully. "The navigational data from the colony transport musta been a false signature. Probably part of the prison security system or whatnot."
"Okay," Beka drummed with her fingers on the armrest of the command chair. "Now I'm mad. Andromeda, access the Maru's databanks. Display all the documentation we have on penal systems in this area. I need a list of mining camps, exile worlds, prison colonies – anything like that."
"Processing," the computer answered. "Data retrieved." A long, long list of data started scrolling on the main screen. Beta sighed and gave Harper a pointed look.
"You gotta be kidding me!" The engineer protested. "There's no way I could work through all that within the next century! Not even with Rekeeb's help. In case you hadn't notice, we're not machines."
"Neither am I," another Than, with the brilliant blue carapace of the scientist clan stepped onto the command desk, "but I do have a computer chip in my skill – to help me analyze scientific data. I think I can be of assistance."
Harper shrugged. "Be my guest, Miss…uh, I don't think we've been introduced?"
"My name is Radiance of Wisdom," the Sapphire Than replied, and she began analyzing the tons of data immediately. Harper shook his head and joined her. These bugs…first they wouldn't speak to anyone from the crew during the months they'd spent aboard already, and now they simply jump into the middle of a mission, without preamble. Oh, well, if more of them wanted to work for him, he could live with that.
The work, even with Radiance of Wisdom and Rekeeb's help, lasted all night. In the simulated morning, Harper staggered into the officer's mess and ordered bacon and eggs for breakfast. To his dismay, the Auto-Chef produced a plate of indefinable substance – it looked like a help of small, milky pearls, rotten moss and burned bread.
"What the hell is this?" he asked, glaring at his plate in utter disgust.
"Draconian fish ova, algae salad and full grain rye bread," Tyr, walking in with Freya, looking intolerably smug and satisfied, replied. "Did you expect something else?"
"I wanted bacon and eggs, dammit!" Harper exclaimed. "I don't eat fish ova, especially not for breakfast."
"You should," Tyr advised. "They work wonders on your potency. But I'll take them if you don't want them."
"Tyr, I don't think you really need any help with your potency," Freya grinned. Harper rolled his reddened eyes.
"I'm so not listening to this. Look, guys, I've stared at the frigging viewscreen all night. My eyes burn like fire, my head hurts, and I'm starving. All I wanted was a few scrambled eggs, but not even that, can a tired engineer get when the captain isn't aboard and the ship is mourning his absence, obviously."
"I can make you some, on the old-fashioned way," Tyr offered, snatching the Draconian caviar and putting a frying pan on the oven at the same time. He liked cooking, and if he could win Harper's trust through the little professor's empty stomach, it was a really small price. He remembered the mushrooms Trance had put into the pantry earlier that day and decided to treat Harper with the best omelette of his short and miserable life.
After breakfast – for which Harper had polished off six eggs with a pound of mushrooms, crispy bacon and half a loaf of toast, while Tyr and Freya shared the Draconian caviar – they returned to the command deck. Radiance of Wisdom had already created a graphic showing all of the possible prison planets, which she was now displaying on the main viewscreen.
Beka whistled. "That's a lot of jails – for a single sector."
Tyr shrugged philosophically. "A lot of worlds, a lot of trash."
"I never got the whole prison thing," Harper said, shaking his head. "Assuming, you have the potential to be a nasty piece of work. So, why lock you up with a serious bunch of hardcases and get you really good at it?"
"They're sociopaths," Tyr explained haughtily. "It makes sense to remove them from the gene pool."
Beka looked at him meaningfully. "Well, you'd certainly know."
"Not really," Tyr said. "We usually kill such people. It saves us the sweat to ship them off-world, plus they can't be freed afterwards. Much more efficient."
Before anyone could make any 'Über' comments – which, judging by Harper's face, were to come – Trance entered in her usual cheerful mood. "Hey, did you find them? Can we go get Dylan and Rommie?"
The people present collectively rolled their eyes – well, except for the Than, probably. It was hard to tell with those compound eyes, occupying two-third of their faces. It was Harper who tried to break the news to her as gently as possible.
"It's not that easy, Trance," he explained patiently. "Three spiral galaxies, dozens of galactic clusters…there's gotta be hundreds of prison planets."
"Three-hundred-and-forty-eight, to be exact," Radiance of Wisdom offered helpfully. Trance didn't seem taken aback, though.
"Really?" she asked, so excited as if they were playing some sort of game. "What about…that one?" With that, she pointed at a planet on the screen. Beka looked first at the screen, then at the purple girl, a little baffled.
"Why? Why that one?" She had to rely on Trance's uncanny talent to find the right things – or the right people – often enough, but the girl usually gave her more to work with.
Trance shrugged. "Well, it's…pretty?"
"It's pretty," Tyr felt the sudden urge to break things – or to kill something. Or someone. "Now there's a solid reason to risk our lives." Suddenly, the idea to leave Dylan to his well-deserved fate and take over the Andromeda seemed a lot more appealing. He didn't notice Trance giving one of her little self-satisfied looks behind the back of the others, or he wouldn't have been so incredulous.
"You have a better idea?" Harper demanded. Tyr mentally counted to twelve in the same lesser Kalderan dialect he used for swearing.
"No." Aside from recalling the whole mission, shooting half the crew, and sabotaging Andromeda's main AI to prepare the ship for the total takeover, that is.
The answer seemed to satisfy Harper. "Well, we have to start somewhere. And it's as good a planet as any."
"If you say so," Tyr replied sarcastically. "May I ask how do you intend to check whether our esteemed captain is on that 'pretty' planet at all?"
"By searching for the EM spectrum of Rommie's locator beacon," Harper answered distractedly. "Can you possibly not bother me while I'm doing my job? Thank you kindly." He examined the onscreen-view of the planet Trance had selected. "What do you think, Rekeeb?"
The Perseid stared at the data in surprise. "I think she indeed picked the right one. This is most…impressive."
"Does it mean that we actually found them?" Beka asked. She knew Trance was good, but she'd never expected her to be this good.
Harper beamed. "Definitely. I got a signal. It's faint, but it's definitely in the right EM spectrum. I'm sure it's from Rommie."
"Can you intercept their radio traffic?" Beka asked. "Is Dylan down there with her?"
Harper shook his head regretfully. "I can't. There is a lot of interference in the atmosphere. We were lucky to locate the signal at all."
"It's a prison," Tyr pointed out with a snort. "They don't want to hear from the outside."
"Well, they're gonna hear from us. Get us in closer."
"That would be a mistake," Tyr warned. "You want to trumpet your arrival to your enemies? What for? So they can aim their biggest guns at you?"
"Fine," Beka replied impatiently. "We'll sneak in. You're a good tactician, Tyr, but one hell of a wet blanket."
"No," Tyr said calmly. "I'm just not one of those heroic idiots who risk their lives unnecessarily. I intend to free Dylan and the android and to come back in one piece. For that, I think we need to board our combat ships now."
Ten minutes later Tyr, the four Than and Beka were on the hangar deck, preparing for launch, leaving Harper in command, which seriously frightened the engineer. But they didn't have many other choices. Rev Bem would never open fire on his own, and they didn't want to leave the Than in charge.
"Slipfighter One, ready for launch," Tyr said calmly. They were connected with the command deck by the comm system.
"Slipfighter Two, ready," Glittering Starlight, responsible for the Than attack wing, replied.
"Slipfighter Three, ready," Celestial Fire, one of the Emerald Than warriors, reported.
"Slipfighter Four, ready," Sword of Midnight, the second warrior added.
"Slipfighter Five, ready," Soaring Winds, the third warrior, said.
"Launch free," Harper replied, squirming uncomfortably in the command position. "Boss, are you ready?"
"Eureka Maru, ready for launch," Beka answered.
On the command deck, the ship's main AI tried to contact the prisoners. "Dylan, if you can hear me, we have a fix on my humanoid body. Beka and Tyr are coming down, with some company. They should enter atmosphere in approximately fifteen minutes."
There was some crackling and static noise, then they could hear Rommie's voice, weak and distorted. "No. No. Abort mission. Abort mission. Weapons fire at low altitude. Do not approach! Do not approach!"
"Did you hear that, Tyr? Boss?" Harper asked.
"We heard it," Tyr replied. "Don't worry, boy. We can deal with it. Slipfighters, launch now. I want to get over with this."
The Than pilots acknowledged, and the slipfighters launched, the four Than flying in tight formation as was their wont – the bugs were notoriously good at teamwork – and Tyr lurking a little behind. If the bugs intended to make a tempting target for the defence systems, it was fine with him. He intended to survive.
So far, they hadn't run into any resistance, so Harper felt safe enough to give the Maru free for launch.
"Be careful, boss," he warned. "Let the big guy flex his muscles first. These private companies don't like their property being visited. They might have a few nasty surprises up their sleeves."
Beka's face grinned back at him from the viewscreen. "Don't wet your shorts, Harper. We're almost there, and so far, nothing happened."
Her picture promptly began to shake, and the alarms went off on the Maru. Harper frowned.
"What was that?" he demanded.
"Could be debris," Radiance of Wisdom answered, checking her sensor readings. "Or could be…"
"…somebody shooting at me," Beka finished through gritted teeth, trying to keep the Maru even, while it was rattled by more impacts.
"That's not debris, that's from weapons fire." The vocoder that made Than capable of pronouncing Common correctly, also made it impossible to recognize their individual voices, but according to radio identification, it was Sword of Midnight from Slipfighter Four. "Turn around, Captain Valentine, and let us handle it."
"I can't turn around," the frustration in Beka's voice was obvious. "The bastards knocked the backward thrust engines offline. Dammit, where did that laser fire from? Didn't Rommie say the weapons would fire at low altitude?"
"The planetary defences might," Tyr said, his voice tense, "but this is an orbital defence laser platform, twenty-two degrees from your starboard side. Slipfighters Four and Five, take care of it!"
"Done and done," Sword of Midnight replied, stooping down on the dark metallic ball with laser turrets like a vulture. Soaring Wind in Slipfighter Five flew an elegant curve and zeroed on from the other side. They opened fire synchronously, and the platform exploded into a deadly bloom of fire.
"Target destroyed," Sword of Midnight reported, with a manic cackle that was the Than equivalent of a war cry. "Score one for the good old High Guard weaponry."
At the same moment, her slipfighter got hit by a missile coming from the planet surface and went spinning off course. Tyr swore in his favourite Kalderan dialect – something he'd picked up due to his long acquaintance with Ferahr Kalinga.
"Beka, are your PDLs working?"
"At the moment? Yes."
"Good. Take care of those missiles for us, while she catches her fighter. We need to take out the other orbital platform on your backboard side," Tyr ordered. "Slipfighters Two and Three, you with me!"
"Understood," the Ruby Than from Slipfighter Two replied, and the three of them raced away to give the other orbital platform a fiery death, too.
Due to her vast experience with hostile encounters, Beka managed to destroy the missiles aimed at them and secured Slipfighter Four with the grabbler, pulling it into the Maru's hangar.
"You all right, Midnight?" she asked.
"I hit my head," the Emerald Than answered, "but I'll live. Our skulls are hard."
Which was true, both in the literal and in the figurative meaning of the word. Than weren't just tough, they could be annoyingly stubborn, too.
"Good," Beka said. "Come up to me, then. I might need you at the fire controls, and besides, we should try to contact Dylan."
In the meantime, the four remaining slipfighters were already entering the atmosphere, ready to take out the ground-to-air defence systems.
"We've confirmation about the coordinates from the Andromeda," Glittering Starfire reported. "I'm transmitting them to you know. The firepower is considerable; Captain Valentine, I suggest you stay back a little, until we're done here."
"To late," Beka replied grimly. "The Maru's under increasingly heavy fire. I guess we'll have to deal with it until you shoot those things to atoms. Midnight, are you ready?"
"Of course," the vocoder voice of the Emerald Than sounded almost excited. "I'm good with PDS systems, Captain, no need to worry."
"Alert," the voice of the Maru computer interrupted. "Incoming weapons fire."
"I sure hope you are right, Midnight," Beka murmured. "Here it comes."
The Emerald Than seemed to have the time of her life while shooting down the incoming missiles. Beka was less than excited, being the one to keep the ship even, with no backward thrust engines to rely on. But after a few rough manoeuvres, the Maru finally evened out, as the defences stopped firing at it.
"It stopped," Beka commented in awe. "Looks like someone shot the defence system to shards."
"Eureka Maru," the voice of the Ruby Than said through the comm, "you are clear to land. We've established contact with Captain Hunt. You can take him and the avatar aboard any time you want."
"Yes!" Beka grinned at her green companion triumphantly. "That's what I like to hear. You guys are a tough and reliable bunch."
Sword of Midnight waggled with her antennae – a gesture which served as the equivalent of a great many human expressions. This time, it was meant as a grin.
"Not bad for a few bugs, eh?" she asked.
While the rest of the crew was celebrating their captain's return, Tyr decided to use the time for doing his daily workout in Hydroponics, as Freya was taking a nap. Pregnancy made Nietzschean women sleepy, especially in the first phase; this wise arrangement of nature (well, actually advanced genetics) served to save their strength and to spare their offspring any unnecessary trauma.
It wouldn't take long until she starts showing, Tyr thought, but until then, he didn't have to spend every moment with her to ensure her protection. Right now, the others were understandably wary around her, and he liked it that way. Once they realized that Freya was with child, it would change things. The common knowledge will make her vulnerable, and Tyr will have to guard her more closely.
He reached Hydroponics and found it empty, which pleased him. He preferred to do his workout undisturbed. He had a vide variety of workouts, mostly of Nietzschean design, combining the best elements of Than and human martial art forms, and Vedran mediation techniques. The exercises were numerous and varied, each set accounted for a different environment. And while he could do them in a room of one square metre if necessary, it was a blessing to have Andromeda's hydroponics deck to his proposal. This was almost as good as working out in an open space. Almost. At least here he could use appropriate accoutrements, if he wanted – a staff, perhaps, or knives, if he was in the right mood for them – without people freaking out from the sight.
He hoped that, after the birth of their child, he'll be able to spar with Freya occasionally. He truly missed the two-person form of workout, last performed as a youngster – with his father, who'd taught him in the first time. One day, he'd teach his own child how to do it.
"Strrrrange," a throaty voice purred, and whirling around, he saw the sleek, back form of the Makra approaching from between the fruit trees. "Strrrrrange that a Nietzschean, who's supposed to be perfect by design, would work so long and hard to improve himself. What's the purpose?"
"There's always way for improvement," Tyr replied. "Genetic engineering is the beginning of the process, not the end of it."
"Is it?" the Makra's ear twitched; a sign of amusement by her people. "Most Nietzscheans I encountered believed themselves to be the best possible specimen upon birth already, and they saw no reason to go any further."
"Which is a sad sign of their inferiority," Tyr said. "The human philosopher Plato had once spoken of the ideal form, with the reality being but shadows, made by firelight on a cave wall…"
"…and Nietzscheans are that ideal form, while all other species mere shadows?" Farrendahl asked, amused. Tyr shook his head.
"Nietzscheans might be closer to that Platonic ideal than most," he said, certain in his heart that they, in fact, were. "But it would be the height of stupidity to assume that we have achieved perfection already."
"And so you are working on reaching that perfection, aren't you?" the Makra asked.
"In every minute of my life," Tyr said. "I owe it my parents, who made great efforts to secure the best genes for me."
"And to your children," Farrendahl added.
"I don't have children," Tyr said with a shrug. "But yes, should I ever have any, it'd be my duty to give them the best chances to survive. Be it my genes, be it my experiences, be it a firm hand to lead them."
"Interesting," Farrendahl's voice lowered to a purr again. "What are you really, Tyr Anasazi? A scholar? A philosopher? Or a professional killer?"
"I'm all that, and a lot more," Tyr replied. "I'm everything I have to be to help Nietzscheans to become what they were meant to be. What Paul Museveni had dreamed of while working on Ayn Rand Station on the perfection of a race that only existed in his dreams."
"And what, exactly, would that be?" the Makra asked.
"Something better than we have actually become," Tyr answered simply. "The incarnation of the best gifts and abilities of the mother race whose offspring we are – not the quintessence of their worse failures that we sometimes seem to be."
"That's a difficult calling indeed," Farrendahl said thoughtfully. "Are you certain that you're up to the challenge?"
"Yes," Tyr replied without hesitation..
"You are a dangerous man," Farrendahl inclined her sleek head. "Men on so-called holy missions always are. I shall keep myself out of your way, then – for my own safety."
With that, the Makra made an elegant bow and left Tyr alone to ponder if he had unintentionally revealed too much.
TBC
