See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

I must say that I'm not sure what caused me to write certain sections of this chapter the way in which I did. Not that I believe them to be inferior (although I suppose your reviews will determine that), but I will admit that certain parts take on a bit of a different feel in this one. Hope it doesn't disappoint!

Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

PART FIFTEEN - Blurring the Line

It was well into the evening and Rhade sat alone on Obs deck, grateful for the solitude. Music floated softly from the ship, the same song repeating over and over. It was music from Tarazed, and he felt calmed by the familiar sounds of his homeworld - it made him feel secure.

It had been several days since the incident in Command, and true to his word Rhade hadn't bothered to ask about piloting. But he had managed to get his duty shifts doubled to four hours, once the almighty golden one had given her permission.

He shook his head and stared out at the stars. He wanted to understand her behaviour, but she was beyond him.

After a few more minutes of silent contemplation, he finally gathered his wits and turned to the real reason he was here. He reached beside him and picked up a flexi, the one he couldn't read in his room - it had felt to closed in, too small. He took in the glowing sphere presented to him on the thin sheet, the one that called itself Amayaúna. He began to read about the planet's history.

It was a small planet, with nothing deeming it of any great significance. Ironic. The Taíno of ancient Earth had believed people came from one of two caves; they came from one, and everyone else emerged from the other, Amayaúna - "without importance." The Taíno had been subjugated by colonizers, and eventually were wiped out. On the planet, the very same was happening to the human inhabitants by the Nietzschean invaders. Perhaps the original colonizers of Amayaúna had chosen the wrong name.

Rhade read through it all, then turned to the planet's records. He searched for one name. Tycho Colis. Cargo runner from Bíran province. His ship, the Majalla's Heart, was apparently named after his sister, Majalla Colis, killed seven years ago in a Nietzschean raid.

He moved on to the current crew manifest of the ship, yet to be updated - he idly wondered if Dylan had contacted the planet officials yet.

He read what he could of the crew that had been his tormentors only short weeks ago, trying to understand - understand them, understand the situation, understand himself. In the last decade everyone on that list had lost someone - a sibling, a child, a parent, a lover - compliments of his species. The province of Bíran, it appeared, had suffered the most - of the entire planet, they had the inevitable curse of the most varied of resources. The only Nietzscheans who set foot on their soil did so by force and hostility.

He was so deep in through that he heard the footsteps only after the person had entered the room. He looked back sharply and saw Beka walking towards him.

"Hey," she called, noting his glance.

"Hello," he replied. He clicked off the flexi and placed it on the floor by his foot, out of the way.

"I came to return this," she said, holding up an object - a book. "Andromeda said you were here."

"You're finished, then?" he asked, taking the tome.

"Yep." She sat down beside him.

When she didn't elaborate, he pressed, "And what was your assessment?"

She grimaced. "Honestly? He's a bit of a…" she trailed off, looking for the right description.

Apparently, Rhade found it for her. "Arrogant, egotistical bastard?"

"Uh, yeah, that will do," she conceded.

He gave a half-hearted grin and turned to look back at the vast blanket of celestial bodies. "I thought you might."

She frowned. "Then why tell me to read it?"

He looked at her and answered with his own question. "Why did you read it in such a short period of time?"

She wasn't sure where he was going with this. "Well, he's an interesting arrogant, egotistical bastard."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Therein lies the answer." He took in her confused expression and elaborated. "I never said I agreed with Scipio's ideas, but that wasn't the point. To fully understand a mindset, you must know all aspects of the spectrum, from the most conservative to the most extreme. Besides," he shot her an amused look, "I thought you might enjoy reading about a Nietzschean who took his superiority complex to new heights."

She grinned. "Yes, that was fun."

He nodded and looked back to the stars. Beka realized he wasn't going to say anything more, so she decided to ask the question that popped into her mind when she had walked in a few minutes earlier.

"What's with the music?"

"Hmm?" he looked at her, then realized what she was talking about. The repeating ballad had been going on for so long, drowning in the back of his mind, he had forgotten it was there. "Oh, that. It's called Tarazada, sort of the unofficial official music of my homeworld." Beka frowned. "Sarah Reilly was a good judge of character, but not of music," he explained, grinning. "The official planet anthem isn't the most popular, most of us prefer this," he gestured to the air around them in which the sounds flowed.

Beka listened thoughtfully. The tone of the music sounded a little familiar, perhaps a little reminiscent of one of Harper's lesser-heard collections; he seemed to have stuff from all around ancient Earth, that kind of melodic, "earthy" feel. Although considering what he really liked to listen to, this seemed a little different. It was instrumental, that was for sure, what perhaps would be deemed "ancient European," perhaps with some eastern elements,but she certainly wasn't an expert. It was different, but she kinda liked it.

"It's nice," she commented aloud.

He nodded, listening. "What it represents is important to most of my people - the connection between everyone on Tarazed, particularly humans and Nietzscheans. Thosewho could be the most similar and yet the most different at times. It was composed a few decades after the formation of our society, when relations between the two species were finally settling down - they were the most combative in the beginning. The dance is particularly demonstrative in that respect."

"Dance?" she asked, curious.

"Yes, there is a specific dance, once again the unofficial national symbol, that is performed only to Tarazada. It is intricately choreographed, combining aspects and customs of both species. We are all taught it as children."

"That's kinda interesting," she answered genuinely. She gave him a strange smile, but said nothing more.

He looked at her and interpreted what she wasn't saying. He waited a few seconds, then gave in and indulged, flashing an obviously fake smile. "Beka, would you like to learn?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she answered brightly.

He shook his head lightly and stood up, moving to a more open area of the deck. She followed.

As the music looped once more, he began instructing. They stood a few feet apart, facing each other. He had her hold her right forearm up in front of her, as he did the same. She'd seen this before, it reminded her of the way in which Nietzscheans greeted one another, with bone blades exposed.

"So, is this done in a group, or…?"

"In pairs."

"And everyone does this part, even humans?" she asked, dubious.

"Of course," he answered, correcting her position slightly. "It is meant to show that despite everything, we are the same. Don't worry, other parts will be more familiar to you."

"Alright," she agreed, then waited for his instruction.

As he directed, they kept the pose and began to circle one another slowly, in time with the music, keeping their arms upright in front. After a few steps, he abruptly changed direction, exchanging the right arm for the left. She attempted to match his change.

They tried it a few more times, and she began to get the feel for the music. Once he was satisfied he said, "Good. That's the beginning, and it carries on for several exchanges." He instructed the ship's systems to start the music at a specific section, then turned back to her.

Taking her hand in his and pulling her a few inches closer, he said, "Now, the next part."

-o-

Dylan sat at his desk, taking a few moments to himself to relax. That relaxation was short-lived, however, when Andromeda's hologram appeared in front of him.

"Captain," the AI began, "The reply just came through."

Dylan didn't look up. She didn't need to say what the reply was for, he already knew.

"Thanks, Andromeda," he replied. The AI nodded, and the hologram vanished.

He sighed and looked down. Then he turned to the screen behind him. Here we go….

-o-

The First Officer was on her way to Command the next morning when the Captain caught up to her in the corridor.

"Beka," he greeted. "Can I have a word?"

She stopped and turned, wondering what she had done this time - or more specifically, what he had found out about - and waiting for him to speak.

He handed her a flexi and said, "I need you to take the Maru and get some supplies. And I want you to take Rhade along."

She looked up and grinned. "Ah, letting the boy out of the playpen, are we?" He didn't say anything, so she glanced down at the list. "No problemo, we should be able to get all this at Seerow Drift, we'll be gone a day, max."

"Uh, yeah, about that," Dylan began. "I need you to go a little further afield. Say…three, four days?"

She frowned in suspicion. "Why?"

He sighed. "We're returning the remains of the Majalla's Heart and her crew to Amayaúna. It'll take us a couple of days to get there and --"

"And you want my help to keep Rhade out of the loop? Dylan, is that such a good idea?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea. But it would probably be best for all parties involved if he were somewhere else when this takes place. If not for his sake, then for theirs. But if he knows, he'll insist on coming solely on principle."

It was her turn to sigh; she just hoped this latest attempt by their dear Captain didn't come back to bite him in the ass. "Alright. Maybe I'll add some things to this," she held up the requisition list, "Make it more believable."

"Good. You leave in five hours." With that, he walked away.

She watched him go, then looked back at the list. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of deceiving her friend, but she had to agree with Dylan - it was better if he stayed clear of that planet. But, she observed, I'm doing this for his sake.

-o-

Rhade walked to the head of the Maru where Beka sat in the pilot's chair. They were still in orbit around the drift where they'd managed to find all of the supplies they'd been sent for. There were a couple items that had required some special searching - he wondered just what possible project Harper could be cooking up this time, based on some of the requests.

"Look's like we've got everything we came for," he announced when she acknowledged him.

"Well," she answered, "We've still got more than a day before we're expected back."

He shrugged. "Dylan should be pleased with our efficiency."

A thoughtful expression crossed her face, and a slow smile crept up behind it. "Maybe, but I've got a better idea on how to kill the time." He raised an eyebrow, waiting. Beka allowed the pilot's chair to shift back and she stood up. "Want a turn?"

He just looked at her. "Are you being serious?"

"Yep. I figure we can spin around for a few hours before heading back."

"I thought you were on express orders to keep me from doing just that."

She shrugged. "Orders change. Dylan said it was at my discretion, and if so, only on the way back." Okay, so it was a half-truth. What Dylan had actually said was that she was to do whatever it took to stall them from coming back early. And she figured this would do it.

"Besides," she added, subconsciously trying to justify it to herself as well, "Your week is pretty much up, right?"

The ghost of a smile washed over his features. "I suppose so."

She gestured to the chair. "Well then…."

"Very well," he answered, but she could see the nearly-hidden anticipating lurking beneath the surface.

"Take it around the system first," she ordered. "And Rhade?" He looked up, and she grinned. "Don't crash my ship."

-o-

The woman turned her cold-as-ice glare on the starship Captain.

"We demand that you turn over that thing to us at once!"

Dylan was not impressed. "Commander Rhade is not on board. And even if he were, there is no chance I'd just hand him over."

The female leader of Bíran province, Cassia Mohenjo, fought to keep her composure. "That Nietzschean is responsible for the deaths of some very well-respected citizens, Captain," she spat the last word, "He must be punished!"

Dylan bit back the first response that came to mind. Instead, he said, "Rhade was mentally unstable at the time of the incident, because of what your people put him through. He cannot be held fully accountable." He lowered his voice. "Maybe next time, your citizens will think twice before they capture an innocent man and torture him for weeks on end outof somemisplaced sense of revenge."

Mohenjo glared daggers at him. "Perhaps it is your senses that have been misplaced, Captain Hunt. You harbour the creature that managed to tear apart the very Commonwealth you helped to restore!"

"And perhaps you should become aware of the truth before you pass judgement. Telemachus Rhade represents the true Commonwealth."

Her eyes never left his, never wavered. "Then my people should be grateful it is dead."

Dylan flashed her an obviously fake grin. "But it isn't dead, Councillor."

She didn't say anything in response, just continued to glare at him. If looks could kill, Captain Dylan Hunt would be dead several times over.

"Councillor Mohenjo," he announced in a nicer-sounding tone, steering the topic back on course, "I should think you'd be pleased with our overture. We've returned the bodies of your people and repaired some of the damage to their ship. We've even fixed the containment problem in the cargo hold for safety. I suggest you accept our condolences and leave it at that."

Her tone, however, did not lighten. "Very well," she gritted. She then promptly turned on her heal and stomped out of Command, followed by her entourage.

Dylan sighed after her, his anger and frustration weighing heavily on his mind. It's never easy….

-o-

Rhade deftly guided the cargo ship through the swallowing darkness of space, the silence onboard aiding in his concentration. Beka, after being assured through her own observations that he wasn't over-straining himself, had gone to get a little sleep, leaving Rhade alone to his devices.

It hadn't taken him long to change course.

Their trip to this section of space had put him in close proximity to the planet, and he felt an odd, encompassing compulsion to go there. Of course, doing so without Beka's permission, with her own ship - not to mention the fact that she was on it - probably wasn't all that good for his survival, but it was something he had to do. He'd face the woman's wrath when the time came.

As footsteps echoed through the ship, he came to the conclusion that that time had just arrived. He heard her emerge into the cockpit, but waited for her to initiate communication.

"Still in once piece?" she commented brightly. "I'm impressed."

"I did promise," he answered, staring straight ahead.

"You did," she acknowledged, turning to one of the displays. She wanted to know how long before they were to rendezvous with the Andromeda.

Her eyes went wide when she saw their coordinates. They were headed away from the agreed meeting place. "Um, Rhade?" she asked in a not-so-amused tone, "Where are we going?"

"Amayaúna," came his lethargic reply.

"What?"

He didn't answer right away. She was about to demand an answer when he disengaged the pilot seat and slid back, turning to face her. "We'll be there shortly, and we'll still have time to meet back up with Dylan."

She scoffed incredulously. "That's - that's not the point!" He just looked at her, waiting. He appeared completely serious. "What the hell are you thinking!"

He exhaled deeply, a little confused by her reaction. He had expected her to be angry, yes - pissed, even - but she seemed more concerned, more…apprehensive? "You don't have to worry, Beka. I know what you're thinking, and no, I'm not planning a confrontation."

She crossed her arms. "You're not."

"We'll not make contact with anyone, they don't need to know I'm there." She almost swore she could detect a note of pleading in his voice as he added, "Beka, this is something I have to do."

The look in his eyes, his demeanour - she wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, or of her friend.

Sincerely, she said, "Tell me."

-o-

She walked slightly behind him through the sea of stone tablets, saying nothing. She'd reluctantly agreed to Rhade's personal mission - why, she wasn't sure.

There had been something about it - the way he'd put it, the hidden logic of the idea, or maybe it was the silent pleas she could sense in his words. No matter the deciding factor, Beka knew beyond a doubt that Rhade truly believed what he was doing was necessary. He would never admit it, but she also suspected that he hoped - even if it was unconsciously - that this act would put to rest at least a few of the demons she knew were haunting him.

They were on the moon orbiting Amayaúna, the barely-habitable rock serving as the holy site for the burial of the planet's dead. Beka knew they were in a complicated situation - if the people on the planet knew they were here, things could get very ugly. Hell, if Dylan found out - and she knew he would eventually, that man could all but read minds - she was in for a big lecture.

But what she feared most was Rhade finding out about their little deception. Rule number one in survival, for both Nietzscheans and non-Nietzscheans alike - if you're gonna lie, don't get caught. Unfortunately for her - and Dylan especially - trying to keep the Captain's little side mission a secret with a crew their size was not going to be easy. She just hoped she could come up with a good excuse for her Nietzschean crewmate before then.

And, she thought to herself, it would really help a lot if we don't actually run into the Andromeda while we're in this system.

Hopefully that wouldn't happen. It was quite possible that in the amount of time that had passed that Dylan had finished his mission and had left - she remembered trying to hide her relief when a scan of the system hadn't revealed the warship. She just prayed to the Divine that it didn't mean he was running late and had yet to arrive.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely avoided colliding with the Nietzschean's back when he suddenly stopped, apparently finding what he was looking for. She glanced over his shoulder and read the name on the grave.

Majalla Colis. She wasn't particularly surprised - she had read up about the history of the bunch of twisted psychos, too, probably before he had.

Rhade silently knelt down in front of the marker, and Beka took a few steps back, not wanting to intrude. She stood there for several minutes, her eyes attempting to look elsewhere but incessantly kept returning to her crewmate. The silence was uncomfortable, but she held her tongue. Something he has to do, she kept reminding herself.

From the corner of her eye, she suddenly caught movement. He had reached to his belt and unclipped something - a small knife. She frowned when he unsheathed it, unsure and just the slightest bit concerned.

Before she could even think, he had extended his empty palm up and away from his body, the hand with the knife joining it. He pressed the blade to the flesh before she had time to react.

"Hey!" was all she managed before he made a quick downward motion with the bladed hand. She quickly moved forward.

She needn't have been concerned - at least not for his safety, if not his state of mind. The cut was small and shallow, not much more than a scratch. He didn't acknowledge her, merely held his palm down and out, allowing a few scant drops of crimson to fall to the packed earth in front of the stone. Both arms promptly dropped to his sides.

Beka was more confused, but wasn't sure she should ask. It didn't matter, however, as he spoke, "My blood - Nietzschean blood - spilled over her grave." His voice was sombre, barely above a whisper. "It's all he wanted. She never did anything wrong."

He was silent once more, staring down. Beka slowly moved to stand beside him and hesitantly extended a hand to his shoulder. When he didn't flinch or pull away, she gave a gentle squeeze.

Rhade waited a few seconds longer, then got up and turned to face her, locking his eyes with her own. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could see a little more relaxation in his eyes, the tiniest bit of tension removed from his features.

"I'm done here. Let's go home."

Beka nodded in agreement, and led the way back to the Maru.

To Be Continued...

For anyone interested, the music I had in mind when coming up with the beginning of this chapter was "Marco Polo" by Loreena McKennitt, a really great track that I recommend.

Also, that GRhade music vid that I mentioned way back when is now complete, you can follow the links in my profile to find it.