Chapter 3: A vestige of the thoughts
Women are quite able to make friends with a man; but to preserve such a friendship - that no doubt requires the assistance of a slight physical antipathy.
from Nietzsche's Human, all too Human
If Dylan was not fully content with the fact that Beka and Rhade returned without most of the needed supplies, he did not bother to show this. There were other drifts, other renegade colonies willing to sell things to outcasts. They'd survive. It was not a close call.
She was sitting on the Maru, feeling much more comfortable within the freight's walls than on the Andromeda. After all she grew up here. It was the place she knew best.
She was reading an old horror novel. Paperback, torn edges, stains on the pages. She knew it almost by heart, but that didn't matter. The book was something solid in a world that just kept getting more and more crazy. She needed this stability, even if it was made of paper.
He deliberately made some noise walking. In other circumstances she would have never heard him coming. She looked up, closing the book. Rhade was standing in the door, dressed more casually than his usual self: no uniform whatsoever. He was still looking good, though. Even in a grey T-shirt.
"I thought that maybe you'd like to talk," he said. "Away from Andromeda's sensors."
"What makes you think I'd like to talk with you?" the moment she uttered those words, she felt sorry. She was really turning softie.
"It is Nietzschean, isn't it?" that was his answer. Sort of 'you hurt me—I hurt you back' game. Only his initial intentions were not those of bringing harm and she could tell that from the way he looked at her.
That concern, again.
"You know it is," she looked away, evading his eyes. "It's Tyr's."
He sat down on the stairs. "It was…" he was looking for the right words, finally settled for next best thing, "the logical explanation."
Oh really!
She said nothing. Instead, she focused on his bone blades, now folded against his forearm. She contemplated their sharpness and felt cold, deep down inside. He caught her watching.
"They fully develop in mid-puberty," he answered the unspoken question in her eyes. "They are still quite soft on an infant. You don't need to worry. You are a strong woman, Rebecca."
"Strong," she repeated. "Like a Nietzschean?" And when he hesitated, she continued. "You know what? Tyr once cooked me a dinner. Fine with me. Nice food, really tasty. It was one of those times that I thought something WILL happen. And you know what? He had to ruin it all by saying that he could never be attracted to a human female! Where's the sense in that!"
There. I said it. I just told another Nietzschean that I wanted to screw one of his kind. Good going, Beka. Really, really thoughtful of you.
"You are a strong woman, Rebecca," Rhade repeated, locking eyes with her. "And, eventually, he recognized your strength."
"Oh," she just didn't know what to say. Rhade got up and walked closer.
"Your strength must have impressed him. You must know that for a Nietzschean, the preservation of the genes is crucial. If he found you worthy, it means that you are on a par with a Nietzschean."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked.
He was now very close and she had to lift up her head to look him in the eyes.
"I was hoping it would," he admitted. "But understand one thing, Rebecca. No self respecting Nietzschean male would endanger the life of his mate. Especially if there was the possibility of her carrying his child."
Why are you saying this?
"So it's all calculation for you," she bit her lip. Damn that Nietzschean, so close to her. "Pure species preservation, no emotions included? You wouldn't endanger your mate only because she could be carrying a little Rhade?"
He raised an eyebrow, as if intrigued by her remarks. "Calculation? I guess you can call it that way. But I…"
"Ermmm… Boss?" Harper was standing in the doorway with an expression that combined bewilderment and repulsion.
Beka imagined how the final outcome of the conversation might have looked like and gave herself a mental slap in the face. Enough, enough already!
Enough damn Nietzscheans in my life!
Rhade knew he was recently acting out of his mind and that irritated him—to say the least. Not being able to find a decent sparring partner (and he didn't want to ask Dylan for the fear of beating up the Captain: he might take it too personally, considering his past with a different Rhade), he engaged into a series of personal exercises that could resemble a ballet for an onlooker. It was strenuous, it took time and energy—and it cleared his mind a bit. And that was the most important thing at the moment.
It's been a while since he felt this way around a woman.
It sort of came as a surprise. True, she was an attractive specimen of her species, her body showing promises of a good mother, her actions proving the strong genes. But he has seen other women like that, some of them pure blood Nietzschean, but he never reacted so strongly. Then came the pregnancy and Rhade thought he found the answer: he was reacting to another Alpha—a one he held personal grudges against—that marked his territory. Since another Alpha found the female attractive, he also adopted the perspective.
That was how he tried to explain himself the desire to mate with Rebecca Valentine. Purely biological urge that made him act like an idiot.
The cold showers did help. Not in the long run, though.
Pregnancy was another matter. The hormones added to her attractiveness. She was not only strong and beautiful, she was radiant. Rhade remembered his wife carrying their firstborn under her heart—and it was exactly the same ambience of light.
The thought of Justine threw him out of balance and he paused in the middle of the gym, suddenly lost. Shirtless, he could see the edge of the scar, running from the navel down his left tight. He should have died that day; it would have been a fair trade. Thought by a Nietzschean it sounded like a blasphemy, but that's how he viewed it. For when he woke up in the make-shift hospital, he knew he couldn't protect those he should have. They were on the surface, he was high above the Terazed and he couldn't save them from harm.
From death.
Married and widowed before he even met Dylan. Before he learned the truth about his ancestor. By that time the wound sealed, the health returned and the hollowness that was like a gap within him was patched up with life and duties. Still, there were nights when he would wake up to an empty space beside him, his arm seeking the warmth only her skin would give—and those were the times when he could admit that there was something more between him and Justine than cold calculation.
The very thought that a Nietzschean could endanger his mate, a possible mother to his child, made him growl. If Tyr Anasazi was not dead, he would kill him barehanded.
This was the point where he acted illogically: the child was Tyr's and by definition it was redundant. It should be. It carried genes of a traitor, a coward, a man who used to be a Nietzschean but died dishonored. Such genes should not be passed on. These were dangerous thoughts, thoughts that Rhade was afraid of as they were the sign of the Nietzschean logic within himself, logic that could not be uprooted by the Academy. It was the survival instinct, the urge to pass on the genes. It was the calculation.
The thing Rebecca disagreed with. The thing she detested.
Was there anything else than calculation?
The Double Helix. He left his on his wife's grave. And never felt the need to have another, to try again—until now.
He started the sequence of the exercises again, this time faster and faster; marking punches and kicks, perfecting blocks and parades. He needed to get tired and stop thinking.
"I hate being left out," Harper was fighting with an awkward looking contraption and loosing the battle. Rommie stood and watched, not without amusement. The irritation prevented the engineer from solving his problems, but she was not eager to help. Let him deal with this his own way.
"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.
"You know what I mean!" if looks could kill, Rommie would drop dead. If she was truly alive in the first place. She liked to think that she was. "The Boss is screwing a second Nietzschean. In a month's time!"
"And you're angry because…" Rommie paused and smirked, "you wanted to screw the said Nietzschean yourself?"
Harper's jaw dropped. "Did I programmed you with cynism? Think not."
Rommie made an innocent face. Being the avatar of the ship, she knew everything what was happening on board and she was fully aware that Rhade was presently sweating out his frustrations in the gym. It was a pleasant sight, a sort of a mild arousal material. Even AI has her needs and when the Captain is asleep…
"It's stupidity," Harper continued. "She keeps on repeating the same mistakes. Over and over again. Trust me, nothing good will come out of this!"
Rommie cleared her throat. "You're nagging, Harper."
"So? Is there something I don't know?"
Rommie recalled the current medical status of Beka Valentine and kept it to herself. She had a small talk with Trance and she agreed the matter was not that much important to make it public. Not yet, that is.
"Not that I'm aware of," she said.
"Aha!" Harper jumped up. "I saw it! You looked left! You're lying!"
"I don't lie," she stated firmly.
"So what do you do? Cloud the truth?" Harper was evidently turned on. "There is something going on. I saw them together. Believe me, that was not a friendly chit-chat they were having! You must have seen something!"
Rommie shrugged her shoulders. "Easy, Harper. I sense your blood pressure is too high. Get some sleep."
And she walked away, leaving Harper to his conspiracy theories. Funny that he was barking up the wrong tree.
Author's ramblings: definatelly TBC. As for Rhade's wife and child (children?) - I'm not very fond of what happened in Season 5, I think that some episodes of Season 4 showed different premonition of the future but it got lost by the writers (why else are there so many Beka/Rhade fictions?;)) but the idea of Rhade having once a wife was tempting. I don't remember if her name was ever stated, so let her be Justine. Oh, and Dylan is not going to be a Paradine, semi-god or anything. No way.
Af, other pairings may appear;) Not in the next chapter, but inthe future... (a perfect future, wink at Trance)
Read, review and enjoy!