BIRTHRIGHT 2 – THE GATHERING

by Soledad

Author's note:

For disclaimer, rating, warnings, etc., see the Prologue.

This particular story takes place during the 1st Season episode The Pearls That Were His Eyes. Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode. The Miller Solar Storm Scale was made up by Sitaine CV Nuluhaya, who wrote the episode transcript, from which the description is quoted.

And no, I haven't got the slightest idea what deiridium alloy would be. I needed a hard substance and I needed a name for it. And since according to honoured Star Trek tradition most hard substances must have a D-name, I made one up. (Yes, I'm a Trekkie, so what?)

CHAPTER 9 – ESCAPE TACTICS

Back in her shared quarters with Tyr, Freya was getting anxious, seeing that the Andromeda still wasn't moving away from the solar storm. One of the reasons why her Pride had chosen to live in the inside of an asteroid was the excellent shielding that several miles of solid rock provided. Although she was no astrophysicist, she knew that no starship could provide quite the same protection. None with a defective neutrino damper, anyway.

"Andromeda," she said, "give me a short overview about the upcoming storm and the possible consequences." She'd picked up the custom of calling the AI by name, instead of simply addressing it with 'Ship!' as was Tyr's wont.

"Certainly," the image of Rommie popped up on the viewscreen. "Are you familiar with the Miller Solar Storm Scale?"

Freya shrugged. "Vaguely. It's a one through seven rating, based on the storm's intensity, isn't it?"

"Correct. The scale is used to give us an estimate of the potential property damage and loss of life expected in inhabited artificial systems lacking a working neutrino damper."

"Like yourself, right now?" Freya asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Rommie admitted. "Violation of nuclear force parity conservation is the determining factor in the scale, as storm surge values are highly dependent on the stability of neutrino/matter coupling."

Freya felt the approach of the mother of all headaches.

"Which means… what exactly in our case?" she asked.

"In case of a Class Seven solar storm, the neutrino instability is greater than 1 million percent of normal background levels," Rommie explained in the detached manner of a university professor." The storm surge is generally greater than 1.5 million over normal. Complete outer skin failure can be expected on unprotected starships and drifts. Anti-proton, exotic matter and ion-powered systems are disrupted and will need extensive repairs."

"What chances might we have?" Freya asked. "Do we have any at all?"

"Afraid not," the ship's AI replied. "No currently developed life-support system will function in this environment. Massive evacuation of life forms within 5 million km of the affected area may be required. To date, the strongest Class Seven solar storm was recorded at CY9444. But this will be close."

"Thank you," Freya said evenly, and the computer image vanished from the screen. Freya switched on the intercom system. "Tyr," she said, determined, "I need to speak you. Now!"


A few decks away, Dylan Hunt was standing alone in a corridor of the Andromeda, doing some last-minute system checks with the ship's AI.

"Slipfighter fuel cells charged. O2 is at 18 percent," he said.

"Check, and check," the voice of Rommie answered, while a slipfighter diagram rotated on the viewscreen and beeped softly. "Dylan, do you really want to go down there and hunt down the Chichin? It's not too late to slipstream away, you know."

"I don't want to go down there," Dylan replied with an expression of smug superiority on his face, "but I have to. I can't let the Chichin get away with the foul move he's pulled on me, or traders on every sleazy drift would think I'm easy prey."

"You are taking this personally," Rommie realized. It sounded… surprised.

"You bet I am," Dylan riposted, running more system checks. "I won't let him – or anyone else – playing me for a fool."

"And you are risking your life – and that of your entire crew – just to prove that?" Rommie asked seriously. "Tyr won't be pleased."

"And I don't care," Dylan said. "Or have you seen him care about what I think of his… independent little actions?"

"You are risking his life, Dylan," Rommie reminded him, "and that of his wife and his unborn child. He'll be lunatic, soon."

"In that case, it'd be better to disable his access code to the slipfighter hangar, wouldn't it?" Dylan asked smugly. "Thanks for reminding me. Disable his code."

"Dylan, I'm not sure this is a good idea…"

"I haven't asked you, Rommie. Execute your orders."

"Very well," Rommie answered with obvious reluctance. "Code disabled."

"Going someplace?" a raspy, amused voice asked from behind Dylan's back, making him jump. It was Rev Bem. Dylan shot him an annoyed look but tried to cover his annoyance with a forced laugh.

"Rev, I wish you wouldn't do that," he said. "Besides, you are... early. Confession's not supposed to come until after I commit the crime."

"I never took you for a man who flees from the consequences of his decisions," Rev Bem said enigmatically, causing the captain to guess just how long the Magog had been listening to his conversation with Rommie.

"I'm not fleeing," he said defensively. "I just have to run an errand."

"If you say so," the Magog replied, clearly not believing a word. Dylan glared at him.

"Wanna come and share the fun?"

Rev Bem chuckled in a manner that most creatures of the non-Magog sort would have found more than a little disturbing. "Most definitely," he said in delight, watching Dylan glancing back and forth between two monitors. "Don't tell me..." he chuckled knowingly again. " You've got a plan."

Dylan shrugged. "Okay, I won't. But you would do well if you boarded the slipfighter with me at once, or we'll be too late."

Rev shook his head, almost giddily. "Hmm, he always has a plan!" And with that, he followed the captain into the hangar.


Tyr stormed onto the command deck like… like an enraged Nietzschean who felt himself and his family in mortal danger. There wasn't really anything that could have been compared to the sight. The others were watching the main viewscreen, which showed the leading edge of the cloudy storm, almost touching the Andromeda.

"Dammit," Harper murmured nervously, "the freaking thing is playing havoc with gravity control, electrical systems and bridge answering service… that's so not good…"

Which, at least, answered the question why Tyr hadn't been able to reach the command deck a few minutes earlier. However, it did not explain Dylan's absence… or that of the Magog.

"Where is he?" Tyr demanded, his murderous glare in the direction of the command chair making it unmistakable clear whom he meant.

Harper shrugged. "I'm sorry, Captain Hunt has stepped away from his desk. Please leave a message after the tone from the funny little guy," he imitated the usual beeping tone. "Beep!"

Tyr grabbed his shirt and yanked him up to eye level. "Are you amused, boy? "Well, I am not! We have at best eight hours before that storm reduces us to component parts, and Dylan has disappeared. Now, tell me where he is!"

Struggling wasn't an option while hanging by his collar from Tyr's paw, so Harper just rolled his eyes. "I don't know, okay? Ask the Rev, maybe he knows."

Tyr let him drop to the floor roughly and strode out, throwing over his shoulder with a snarl, "He is missing, too!"

Harper glared at the door that had already closed behind Tyr, and rubbed his neck angrily.

"Try decaf," he growled, "and see if I ever do you a favour again," conveniently forgetting that Tyr had actually paid him for the most recent 'favour".

Radiance of Wisdom, working at one of the science stations, wiggled her antennae in askance. "You did the Nietzschean a favour? Why would you do that?"

"At the time, it seemed a good idea," Harper replied. "Now I'm not so sure about it."


Leaving the command deck, Tyr strode directly to the slipfighter hangar. He'd have preferred the Maru for a trip out of the system, especially with an additional person in the cockpit, but Beka had taken the Maru to Diphda V and nobody knew when she was about to return. With less than eight hours left, he simply couldn't wait. Obviously, he wasn't the only one, as he found the Emerald Than and Glittering Starlight standing in front of the hangar doors.

"I see you reached the same conclusion," the cackling vocoder voice of the Ruby Than said. "Unfortunately, we seem to have a problem."

"What sort of problem?" Tyr asked, an ugly suspicion sneaking up on him. Surely Hunt wouldn't…

"See for yourself," the Ruby Than typed in her own access code.

"Access denied," the computer said. "Hangar deck is sealed until further orders by the authority of Captain Dylan Hunt."

"Whom I'm going to kill with my bare hands, as soon as I can get hold of him, "Tyr growled. "But first, we must see that we get away from here. You with me?"

"Depends," the Ruby Than answered. "Where are we going?"

"I've had enough of Dylan Hunt's mind games, Tyr replied. I'm getting the biggest gun from my quarters and shooting these damned doors to pieces."

He whirled around to storm away, when the holographic image of Rommie flickered into existence in front of him, about two meters away.

"I'm afraid that won't help you a bit," she said. "Firstly, these doors are made of fourteen centimeters of deiridium alloy; your biggest gun won't even scratch them. Secondly, there are better solutions."

"For example?"

"Following High Guard protocol," and with that, the hologram flickered off.

Tyr glared at the place where she had been in stunned disbelief. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Glittering Starlight tilted her head to the side, her big, compound eyes glittering. "I think it means, that with Captain Hunt and Captain Valentine absent, you are the highest-ranking officer aboard."

Tyr looked at her, understanding dawning on his face. "I see. Yes, this definitely has promise. We should go to the command deck, then."

My thoughts exactly," the Ruby Than agreed and followed him.


Tyr returned to the command deck, with Glittering Starlight in trail, in a fairly enraged state of mind. He found Harper in a fairly similar mood – although perhaps not entirely for the same reason. The Sapphire Than and Höhne, on the other hand, were scanning the approaching storm with a detached scientific excitement that made everyone else want to throttle them.

"New data of estimated storm intensity are coming in," Radiance of Wisdom told the Perseid, and she called up the readings in question. Höhne stroked his long, ridged chin with sparkling eyes.

"Oh, my!" he exclaimed. "Seems that this storm will be close to the one of CY 9444 at peak intensity – the strongest one on record, so far. But this will be a close match. Very, very close."

Harper risked a look at the readings, his thin face pale and pinched. The fear in his eyes was very real – understandably, considering his weak health.

"Did I mention I'm not having fun yet?" he asked rhetorically. "Is there any chance we could go down to the Drift in time? It should be better protected right now."

"It is," Tyr growled, "but Dylan, in his infinite wisdom, sealed the slipfighter hangar. The doors are password-protected. We can't get in."

"Oooookay," Harper visibly struggled with his rapidly growing panic, "I probably can hack you in without a password. Just gimme a few minutes…"

"That won't be necessary," Tyr removed his weapons' belt and vaulted into the slipstream chair from the side. "I'm assuming command."

Harper shot him an insecure look. "Ummm… not that I'd disagree or anything, especially if it means that we might save our hides, but have you cleared that with Rommie? She might have some objections."

"I don't think so," Tyr said. "I am the highest-ranking officer aboard right now. It's my right and my duty to save the ship and the crew."

"Including yourself," Harper commented cynically. "Not that I'd object to being saved, mind you."

"Especially myself and my family," Tyr agreed. "Ship! Engage thrusters and take us out of here."

"Unable to comply," the computer replied.

Before Tyr could have demanded an explanation, the door opened again, and in walked Dylan and Rev, practically dragging the struggling and protesting Chichin onto the bridge.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain Anasazi?" Dylan asked, with a smug expression on his face.

Tyr eyed him warily. He wasn't leaving the slipstream chair yet, still not trusting the captain's plan to get them out in time. He trusted his own reflexes, however, to get the ship into slipstream before Dylan could counteract.

"Permission granted," he replied. It was a formality, of course, since Rommie would never support him against Dylan, but officially not even Hunt could give orders before command was transferred back to him.

"Thank you," Dylan said, before turning back to his involuntary 'guest', who kept looking around with quick, jerky movements of his snake-like head.

"So, Mr. Grask," the captain said pleasantly, "have you ever got the chance to get up close and personal with a class-seven solar storm?"

"N-no," the Chichin stammered nervously.

"Then you are lucky to be here now," Radiance of Wisdom offered in obvious amusement. "They say it's a once-in-a-lifetime experience."

"Because nobody's lived through one and got the chance to see a second one so far," Höhne added, giggling.

Somehow, that remark didn't seem to cheer up the Chichin a bit. He was visibly panicking, his limbs shaking uncontrollably.

"Y-you can't keep me here," he protested, "I'm a highly ressspected businesssman."

"Yeah, sure, and I'm sworn to celibacy," Harper snorted, simultaneously with Dylan's declaration that the Chichin is most certainly not respected on his ship.

Höhne looked at the young engineer in surprise. "Really? I thought you'd be rather… well, it seems my first impression was wrong. Most astonishing. I'm rarely mistaken, Rekeeb will be surprised."

Harper rolled his eyes. "I was joking, Höhne!"

"Oh, of course," the Perseid giggled a little, these humans were so entertaining. "A… little joke. I see."

The Chichin, on the other hand, was not amused. In fact, he seemed to swing back and forth between panic and righteous annoyance. Neither of which kept him from shamelessly begging and whining to Dylan.

"You mussst underssstand," he hissed nervously, "I have to get back to my warehoussse. My employeesss will sssteal me blind!" He spread his hands in a helpless gesture, like a confused bat. "That Leeshka… my apprentissse… Ahh! Hasss the brainsss of a sssnivlet I can't let him oversssee busssinesss."

Tyr shot the Chichin a disgusted look. "Can I kill him now?"

Dylan paid him no attention, focussing on his 'guest' with the intensity of a hunting cat.

"Oh, I do understand that honesty and integrity were casualties of war," the captain said with a very unpleasant smile, "and while I may not approve" he turned to Tyr," – for the record, I don't approve –" he turned back to the Chichin, "right now, my bad day is your bad day." He clapped Grask's shoulder in an overly friendly manner. "Enjoy the view."

Tyr noticed with amusement that the Magog had crept up behind the back of the Chichin and was now breathing down his neck.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Rev Bem cooed, eyeing the Chichin as one would a particularly appealing buffet.

The Chichin practically jumped into the air, hyperventilating, and clutched Dylan's arm instinctively. "Keep that cannibal away from me!"

Despite their increasingly dangerous situation, Harper couldn't suppress a grin.

"Uh, cannibal?" he said mockingly. "Nnno. See, the Rev doesn't eat his own kind. Chichin, however…" he added, pretending to ponder over the topic. "Nah, I don't think you're entitled to call anyone else a cannibal."

"Isn't he cute?" Rev Bem half-purred, half-growled, dancing one of his claws near Grask's bald head. "He makes me really, really hungry."

"Rev," Dylan chastised him in a falsely exasperated manner, "behave!"

"I'm sorry, Captain," Rev Bem rasped without regret, "but when their whining exceeds a certain... decibel level, I find it very difficult to control my… lower nature."

The Chichin gave a strange, high-pitched squeak and scurried away from the Magog, towards Harper's station. Harper grinned, but kept a worried eye on the readings, wishing that Dylan would stop playing mind games and finally do something.

"How much longer before the storm reaches its peak?" Dylan asked the Sapphire Than.

'I wouldn't crack open any epic novels if I were you," Tyr said before Radiance of Wisdom could have answered. "Of course, if I were you, we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with."

"Why, Tyr, I never knew you were such a pessimist," Dylan smirked. Tyr gave him the Look.

"I'm first and foremost a pragmatist, Captain," as always, the title sounded like an insult, coming from his mouth. "And I'm a husband, who'd very much like to become a father, if there weren't that small issue of survival. Which would be fairly unlikely, if we waste here any more time with your sneaky little games."

"You worry too much, Tyr," Dylan said lightly. "We might be able to hold together."

"Yeah, if miracles would still happen, and if the second coming of Drago Museveni would be imminent," Harper snorted. That earned him a rather strange look from Tyr.

"That's not something you should be joking about, boy," the Nietzschean growled. "It could lead to… unfortunate consequences."

Harper glared at him defiantly. "Are you threatening me, Über?"

"No," Tyr replied calmly, "I'm warning you. Other Nietzscheans would not. So be careful with that loose mouth of yours."

"Of course," Dylan continued, ignoring them both. "we'd be a lot safer if we had a working neutrino damper."

"No shit, Sherlock," Harper commented sarcastically, ignoring Tyr's warning as well. This whole game started getting on his nerves, and he didn't care whom he made angry anymore.

"A… a damper?" the Chichin turned his head with the typical jerking gesture of his kind, scurrying back to Dylan carefully. "Y-you need a neutrino damper?" he laughed nervously. "W-what a coinsssidenssse, I… I c-can get you a d-damper, a beauuu-tiful b-brand-new damper you will be p-proud to call your own..." he giggled again, still nervous as hell.

"You don't say..." Dylan said languidly.

The ship rocked again, sparkling inside and out like fireworks. Dylan looked at Harper, and the engineer shrugged in a fatalistic manner.

"There's nothing I can do, boss – unless our lizard friend here produces that damper within the hour."

"I see," Dylan turned back to the Chichin. "I presume you are capable of doing that, Mr. Grask?"

"I… ah… of courssse, Captain…"

"Perhaps I should accompany him," Rev Bem offered, radiating false benevolence, and the Chichin practically crawled up the bulkhead in utter panic.

"N-no! No need for that. T-the damper isss in the holding bay of my vesssel. Jussst a few m-minutesss are nesssesssary…"

"I think it's better if Mr. Harper accompanies you," Dylan said. "Just to make sure we get the real item, this time."

"Right, I can do that," Harper jumped forth from his station. "Wisdom, can you call the Worker bugs and tell them to meet me outside the Chichin ship? They're a lot faster than the bots."


Without waiting for an answer, he jogged out, dragging the Chichin behind him. Radiance of Wisdom was already making the call to her fellow Than, while Höhne looked at Dylan with uncharacteristic seriousness.

"That was a very close call, Captain. I hope you're aware of that. Getting away in time would have worked just as well."

Dylan nodded. "I know. But it was necessary to get a working damper anyway; we might need it later again. Besides, I don't like it when people think they can fool me."

"And I don't like the way you are playing games with my life and with that of my family," Tyr said in a low, even voice, his eyes cold. "Next time, I won't let you get away with something like that."

"Oh, really?" Dylan asked snidely. "And what would you do to hinder me? Kill me?"

"If I have to," Tyr replied bluntly.

The others fell in shocked silence – not that they didn't think he'd be capable of doing so, but they were surprised that he dared to threaten the captain so openly. Only Dylan didn't seem concerned at all.

"After you have warned me?" he said, shaking his head. "I don't think so."

Tyr shrugged. "Try me."

Dylan considered that for a moment, then he shrugged, too. "Very well. I consider myself warned."

"You better do," Tyr said, completely unfazed.


Less than an hour later, the new neutrino damper was installed and the solar storm nothing but a pretty backdrop behind the Andromeda. Tyr and Freya were enjoying the view from the Hydroponics deck. Colourful reflections rippled on Trance's garden and the naked walls. They lay on a blanket, spread out on the floor and talked.

"Do you think Beka will ever come back?" Freya asked, resting peacefully in Tyr's embrace, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

"I'm wondering," Tyr admitted. "During the last three months, that old rustbin of hers has been upgraded… no, it has practically been rebuilt, from the weapons systems through the engines to the computers," he shrugged carefully, not wanting to disturb Freya's rest. "I think it's quite possible she may have taken advantage of Hunt's inane generosity and gone back into business for herself."

"And left her crew behind?" Freya asked. "I doubt that. They're like family for her."

"True, but she could still be planning to pick them up later," Tyr pointed out. "The purple girl is with her already; and she's resourceful enough to extract the boy and the Magog any time she wants."

Freya laughed. "If she can tear Harper away from Rommie, which is highly unlikely. The little kludge is practically in love with the AI. Or perhaps obsession would be a better word for it."

"A very unhealthy obsession," Tyr commented. "Harper should spread his genes widely, instead of obsessing about a warship. He might be weak and sickly, but his intellect is outstanding. It should be handed down to the next generation."

"Kludges are so irresponsible," Freya sighed. "Speaking of which, Tyr, I think we shouldn't risk getting caught in a situation like the most recent one ever again. I don't like my life – and that of our child – being dependant on Dylan Hunt's irrational decisions. We must be able to get off this ship the next time something like this happens."

"I agree," Tyr nodded, "and I think I know what we need for that."

"Oh, let me guess," Freya's eyes sparkled. "A ship of our own?"

"A ship of our own," Tyr agreed. "A small one, something like the Eureka Maru, just in a better shape."

"You want to get a freighter?" Freya asked in surprise. "I thought you'd want a battleship of some sort."

"I'd want a battleship if I wanted to go to open war," Tyr explained, "but I want to keep my family safe, and for that, a battleship would draw too much attention. But a freighter like the Maru can be seriously upgraded to pull quite a punch; and it can blend in much better."

"And there would be enough place for a family, at least for the time being," Freya nodded. "I see your point. But where can you find the right ship?"

"I've already sent a message to Ferahr," Tyr revealed. "He has good contacts among traders, and he's about the only one I can trust – within reasonable margins, that is."

"But you'll need help with the upgrades," Freya reminded him. "Do you think Harper would be willing to work for you in his spare time again?"

Tyr shrugged. "As long as I pay him, I think he would. Besides, according to Kaveh, some of his people – our people – can handle ships as well. They are mostly workers, not warriors."

"When will you be able to meet them?" Freya asked.

"I hope soon," Tyr said. "Dylan mentioned something about visiting some backward planet that's only one slipstream jump away from the Haukin system. That'd be an excellent opportunity."

"All we need is Beka to return, so that you can borrow the Maru again, for a visit by your relatives, then," Freya grinned.

Tyr grinned back at her. "That, and a good excuse to leave the Andromeda."

"Hmmm," Freya raised a speculative eyebrow. "What if you tried something radical and told him the truth?" At Tyr's disbelieving glare, she grinned again. "Well, part of the truth anyway. That'd confuse him to no end."

"Well, there's that," Tyr admitted thoughtfully.

"You could probably arrange a meeting with Mikaelan, too," Freya suggested, but Tyr shook his head.

"Not yet. Not before I met the Völsung. They could prove an important bargaining chip in the dowry negotiations."

"True," Freya said. "The Alpha of a Pride, even that of a very small one, is in a much better bargaining position than an Alpha with no Pride at all."

"Precisely," Tyr grinned at her fondly. "But even if the Völsung refuse to re-join Kodiak Pride, we can prove the most important factor: my fertility," he laid a gentle hand upon her belly. "You start showing already, have you noticed?"

"No, I don't," Freya laughed. "That's nothing but wishful thinking from your side. But soon."

"Soon," Tyr agreed, although he could have sworn that there already were visible signs of Freya's pregnancy. "And I'll see to it that you'll be safe. Both of you."

"I know you will," Freya turned a little in his arms and kissed him. "Can we drop the conversation now? I find this spectacle out there rather… inspiring."

TBC