See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.
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PART FOURTEEN - Halting the Breakdown
A compromise, that's what Rhade had managed with Dylan. After another week, the Captain was still reluctant to let his officer anywhere near Command, but he had to admit that the Nietzschean's injuries were coming along better than he had expected. In fact, he believed himself a little jealous. But still, he could see the fatigue that took the man too easily, and had permitted him no more than two hours a day on duty.
That was three days ago. Rhade was currently at his station, more bored than he thought possible. It was as if Dylan had intentionally scheduled him for the time of day when there was absolutely nothing important to do - and he probably had, the way he had been thinking.
And so there he stood, punching in mundane commands and scanning various, tedious read-outs. He still had seventy minutes to go, and if it were to pass like this, then perhaps his room was better - at least there he could be bored out of his mindof his own volition.
A few minutes passed, then he heard the doors behind him swish open. He looked back and saw the First Office walk in with purpose. She headed directly for the pilot station.
"Listen up, people," she announced to the skeleton crew in Command, "We're headed for the Tobin system to pick up some spare parts. Just a quick jump." She arrived at the console and started moving the ship toward the nearest slip point.
Rhade quietly left his station and walked over. "Beka." She turned to him. "Let me pilot."
She shot him a disbelieving grin. "I don't think so."
"Come on. Like you said, it's just a short jump away." She just stared at him, not budging an inch. "Look, I'm fine. It's not a difficult run, and you know my reflexes are a hell of a lot better than they were even two days ago." It was true, over the last several days she had helped him in the gym to slowly work on his physical strength and stamina - even with severe injury, the Nietzschean body held up. "And only slightly lesser than your own." And flattery will get you anywhere.
"No."
Almost.
"Why not?" he was beginning to sound petulant, and that annoyed him further, almost as much as her refusal.
"Because Dylan didn't say you could."
"He also didn't specify that I could not." Beka shook her head, and he switched tactics. "What would happen if you couldn't pilot the ship in an emergency?"
"Never going to happen."
He sighed. "What if you were on the Maru, then? Would you prefer I was rusty and out of practice?" She looked forward, but he could see the hesitation. "You know I can do this, Beka."
Finally, she relented and backed away from the controls. "Fine, but you get to explain this to Dylan."
She started past him just as he reached out a hand and grabbed her arm gently. He looked her in the eyes and said, sincerely, "Thank you."
She gave him an awkward grin. "Just don't crash the ship."
"Agreed."
He moved to the controls and readied the Andromeda for slipstream, looking and feeling infinitely better than he had just minutes before.
-o-
They were nearing the end of the jump. It had started out smoothly enough, Rhade piloting as if no time had elapsed. But slowly those in Command had begun to notice his waning concentration, the ride gradually becoming more bumpy. It wasn't necessarily a danger to the ship, but still, it wasn't what they were used to.
Beka was growing a little concerned, and looked over at her crewmate. She could tell he was using all his strength and focus to ride the coiling stream. He was looking tired, jaw clenched shut in concentration. It was obvious his reflexes were beginning to suffer.
The First Officer let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as Rhade pulled them back into normal space. She walked over to him, noting how he leaned against the console. He was breathing heavily and blinking rapidly, as if to clear his head. She cursed herself for giving in to his plea.
Quietly, she asked, "You okay?"
Before he could respond, they heard the doors to Command opening, followed by Dylan's voice. "Well Beka, not the best --"
He stopped short when he saw Rhade at the pilot's station. He looked back and forth between he and Beka a few times. Then, not yelling but sounding none to happy either, asked, "What the hell is going on? Beka?"
Beka fumbled for an explanation, but Rhade spoke first, trying to straighten up. "I convinced her to let me take the jump, Captain."
Dylan scoffed, slowly walking toward them. "Oh really?"
"Look Dylan," Beka began. "I know --"
"Save it, Beka. And you." He turned back to Rhade. "LIGHT duty. Does that mean any -- Rhade!"
Beka turned just in time to see her friend sway, his legs beginning to buckle. She reached out and grabbed him, preventing him from crashing to the deck. He was able to hold up most of his own weight, but leaned momentarily on her to regain his composure, his equilibrium.
Dylan had rushed forward to help, catching him on the other side to help him stand back up straight. But Rhade quickly shrugged away from both of them.
"I'm fine," he nearly shouted, resentment evident in his tone. He turned around and marched for the exit, almost managing a straight line, and ignoring the stares from the other few crewmembers in Command.
Beka and Dylan watched his back as he moved through the doors and out of sight. Then Beka turned to her Captain rather timidly.
"Uh, I can go try to --"
"No," Dylan said forcefully. He looked at her, and she could see the definitely disappointed look there. "You have Command." He didn't wait for her reply before slowly walking out.
-o-
Harper stared down at the flexi in his hand as he made his way to Command, checking to be sure he had all the parts listed for the Tobin supply run. He rounded a corner and literally ran into Rhade.
Harper started to cringe, quickly calling out, "I'm sorry, I…" he trailed off as he got a good look at the Nietzschean. The annoyed glare, the hollow threats - non were forthcoming.
Instead, Rhade looked like he was having trouble focussing. "Rhade? You okay there, buddy?" the engineer asked in concern.
"Yeah," the other man affirmed quietly. He then put up an arm to the corridor wall, using it as a brace to keep himself upright as he leaned suddenly into it.
"Whoa, whoa," Harper cautioned as he reached out and grabbed Rhade's other shoulder. He was mildly surprised when the Nietzschean simply uttered a word of thanks. "Uh, anytime. What's wrong?"
"Tired," Rhade muttered through a deep breath.
Harper looked around the corridor junction. "Uh, right…." Just then, he spotted a familiar figure walking their way.
"Mr. Harper," Dylan called before reaching the two - he didn't look like the happiest Captain in the Known Worlds.
"Boss," Harper greeted, then gestured to Rhade, who'd managed to pull himself away from the bulkhead. "He's kinda, uh…."
"I know," Dylan replied. He gestured to the flexi in the engineer's hand. "Is that for me?"
Harper was caught off-guard by the question. He held the flexi up. "Well yeah, but --"
"Good." Dylan took it from him, then finally turned his attention to Rhade, who was looking away. "Take him to Med deck."
Harper nodded just as Rhade turned to Dylan. "Captain --"
"Go to Med deck," he repeated forcefully. "That's an order, Commander." He didn't wait for Rhade's acquiesce before marching away.
Harper wasn't sure what was going on, but he thought it best to just do as the angry Captain told him. "Come on," he said almost timidly to the Nietzschean, who was glaring daggers at Hunt's back.
It took Rhade a few seconds to turn away, and when he did he reluctantly went with the engineer. He was a soldier, and he would follow orders.
-o-
Rhade stretched out his bed, glad to be back in his own quarters. He had spent the last couple of awkward hours with Trance, until she was satisfied that he was only suffering from fatigue due to over-exertion. He'd been allowed to leave, but not before she'd left the lasting impression that he was not to go anywhere near Andromeda's flight controls (he'd been too tired to give in to the urge to make a smartass comment about the Maru) for at least another week, no matter how strong he felt.
Not that it will matter, he thought to himself. After today, he doubted he'd be allowed anywhere near Command for a very long time.
He sank into the comfort of his bed, laying atop the neat covers and fully-clothed - he hadn't even removed his boots - when someone called on his door.
Rhade sighed reluctantly and sat up. He called for the AI to open the door, thinking it might be Beka checking up on him. As much as he wouldn't mind seeing her - he did want to apologize for getting her into trouble - at the moment he wasn't really in the mood for deep discussion, or any kind of company for that matter.
But it didn't matter, because his visitor was most certainly not the female First Officer.
He quickly stood up as Dylan entered the room, figuring it would do well to stick to formality - it usually put the Captain in a better mood.
"Sir," he addressed respectfully. He wasn't angry at the Captain, and he hadn't been earlier, either. He'd been more angry with himself and his state of weakness, and Dylan had simply served as a reminder at the time.
The Captain seemed to have calmed down as well. Gently, he said, "At ease." Rhade relaxed. Dylan gestured to the living area, and they sat down across from one another.
"Trance tells me it was nothing serious, you'll be fine," Dylan commented, breaking the silence that had descended.
Rhade nodded.
"She also tells me that if that slipstream jump had been any longer, there could have been some problems."
"Captain," he spoke, "I would never knowingly put the ship in danger."
"And what about yourself?"
"Sir?"
Dylan scoffed. "It's not Andromeda I'm worried about, Telemachus. Yes, I'd prefer not to have to make any more slipstream-induced repairs on the hull anytime soon, but Beka said she was close enough that if anything happened she could have taken over without too much trouble."
He leaned forward. "You could have aggravated injuries or strained yourself too much and blacked out, none of which would have been particularly good for you."
"I thought I was ready," Rhade replied quietly.
Dylan nodded. "I'm sure you did. But that decision isn't up to you."
The Nietzschean sighed and looked away. "Trance."
"In part, yes," Dylan answered. "You need to understand that healing takes time, no matter how engineered you are or how many nanobots are streaming through your system. Just give it time."
"Too much time," the other man muttered, not realizing he'd said it aloud.
"What was that?" he could see his officer getting antsy, rapidly jostling his knee.
Rhade looked at Dylan and, against his better judgement, launched into a mini-tirade. "Too long! I was gone for six weeks, and now I have to be out for how many more? I need to work harder to get my strength up. I cannot be incapacitated any longer."
"You're hardly incapacitated," Dylan observed, cutting of the Nietzschean's rant.
Rhade's eyes bored into the Captain's, and his voice calmed to the point of being unnerving. "I am weak, and I vowed I would never be weak again."
Dylan slowly thought he was beginning to get it. "You're referring to the Kalderan attacks on Tarazed, when you were injured in the Home Guard."
He didn't even blink. "Yes."
"How long did it take you to recover?"
"The first time? I couldn't leave my house for two weeks, and I couldn't get clearance to leave the planet for five." His voice still had that deadly calm, and Dylan suspected there was more to it than that.
"But you obviously recovered. You'll do so again."
"You don't get it, Captain," he tone took on a harsher quality. He wasn't yelling, but he was far from the calm of only a few seconds ago. "Because of that injury, I lost everything."
Suddenly, Dylan understood. He tried to get through to the other man. "I know what you're talking about, Rhade, and I'm sorry. But you have to keep in mind that you survived. You can't change the past, but you must remember that. Survival."
Rhade just stared back, the fight gone from him. "I wasn't talking about the injury."
Dylan's voice sounded tired as he replied, "Neither was I."
"Sometimes survival isn't enough."
"Make it enough."
Both men sat in silence for a long time. Dylan knew his officer was back on Tarazed, immersed in memories from before they had met. He wasn't sure what to say, but he didn't want to leave in case he could help in any way.
Unsure of how many minutes had passed, Rhade pulled himself from his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Captain. I've been having trouble thinking clearly today."
"It's understandable. No need to apologize."
"I beg to differ. And I apologize for today, it won't happen again."
"That's good to know."
"I won't question your orders again."
Dylan gave a small grin and a slight shake of his head. He stood up, and Rhade promptly followed suit.
"Yes you will." There was amusement in the Captain's voice.
"Sir?" the Nietzschean asked, confused.
Dylan's grin widened ever so slightly. "You're a Rhade." As said Rhade raised an eyebrow, Dylan thought his point had just been made rather clearly and succinctly. But for the other man's benefit, he added, "It's not just physical, Telemachus - you're a lot more like Gaheris than you know."
Rhade wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, but figured from the non-accusatory tone of Captain Hunt's voice, it was a pretty safe bet the man wasn't holding it against him.
"I'll leave you to get some rest," Dylan stated, his emphasis indicating that it in itself was an order. He began walking to the door.
"Yes, Captain," Rhade obliged, seeing him to the exit.
The door slid open, and Dylan stepped so that he was standing over the threshold. "I'll see you on duty tomorrow. Stay away from the pilot station." And just like that, he was gone.
To say Rhade was surprised by the unexpected affirmation that he was still permitted on duty was an understatement. He started at the closed door where his commanding officer had been only moments before.
To the silent room, he stated simply, "Thank you."
To Be Continued...
Jade Rhade: The inscription she read was the opening verse to Rhade's poem. And good luck with the fic, be sure to let me know when you've reposted it!