See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.
Didn't have the best day today - nothing serious, just one of those days where a bunch of little things pile up to create some nice stress. But as an outlet (other than a nice Taekwondo training session), I decided to get this thing finished up and posted, so I guess it wasn't all bad...however, I will let you be the judge of that, since I honestly don't know how this chapter will go over! I do love experiments. And as always, I want to thank my reviewers - you always make my day just a bit brighter, and I'm glad you're enjoying the ride!
Any and all mistakes are mine alone...except in the instance where separate words magically get squished together in the QuickEdit (hah!) process...have I mentioned before how much I loathe that feature? No way around it...sigh.
PART SEVENTEEN - Parting the Veil
The rest of the night passed without incident. The following morning, before leaving his room, she had attempted to talk to him, get him to open up, but he brushed off the incident, and she didn't want to push the issue. At least not right away. It was still a little strange for her, too.
Still concerned, however, Beka found herself in Dylan's office not too much later.
"I'm worried about Rhade," she told him, straight to the point.
Dylan leaned back in his chair. "How so?"
"Not physically or anything," she was quick to explain. She'd told the Captain of their little side-trip to Amayaúna a few days earlier, just after the Andromeda had apparently left the system. He hadn't been too happy, but had understood the Nietzschean's reasoning, at least partly. But she had the feeling that if he suddenly turned up worse for wear, that trip and his chance to pilot - and by extension, she - might be blamed.
"It's just that," she continued, "We all know he hasn't really been himself. I know he's still having nightmares, last night I had to pull him out of one."
Dylan cocked his head. "You were in Rhade's room last night?"
Beka paused and rolled her eyes. "We fell asleep watching a film. Besides, that's not the point." Dylan nodded for her to continue. "He won't talk to me about whatever is going on, and I have a feeling it hasn't come up with anyone else, either."
"And you want me to try?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought that if you knew…" she left the thought hanging.
He shot his second a sincere look. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks, Dylan." She then turned and left the Captain alone in his office.
Dylan watched the door shut and sighed, leaning forward on his desk. Beka was right, something was up with Rhade. Not that he didn't have reason to be troubled, but the stubborn Nietzschean needed to learn to trust his shipmates. Yes, he had opened up briefly to Dylan, but the Captain got the impression that it had been a one-time deal, although he'd certainly be willing to try again. He just doubted it would get him anywhere.
No, who he needed was Trance. She had come to be a sort of counsellor, along with all the various other positions she filled onboard, thanks to her gifts and her personality in general. But that was a problem right now, and no one seemed to know why. He got the impression Rhade himself didn't even know why.
Dylan sighed again. It looked as though he'd have to solve one problem before he dealt with the Nietzschean's current state of mind.
"Andromeda."
The AI hologram appeared in front of him. "Yes, Captain?"
"Can you have Trance come down here when she gets a minute?"
The hologram nodded and disappeared. Less than a minute later, however, she blinked back into view. "She's on her way."
"Thank you, Andromeda. When she gets here, engage privacy mode."
The hologram frowned momentarily, but answered with an "Aye, Captain." After all, it wasn't like the AI hadn't become accustomed to closed conversations between the two. Once again, she blinked out.
-o-
After she had left, Rhade had made his way to a chair in the living area of his quarters and slumped down, staring ahead but seeing nothing as his thoughts ran away with themselves. He could tell Beka had half-hoped he'd talk to her about what happened the night before, but he didn't think he could. He also suspected that despite her claims, she was partly relieved when he declined, as was evidenced by her quick dismissal of the subject. He knew Beka - if she truly wanted that discussion, it probably would have taken place whether he agreed or not.
He had long ago given up on attempting to decipher the meaning behind his nightmares; he knew well enough what was causing them - everyone did. But making sense of them was another matter. What he could recall was chaos, random images, memories,and words all mixed together in an incoherent mess.
But he didn't know how to make them go away. In the waking world it seemed to him that those thoughts and memories were just that - small, insignificant, jumbled pieces that had been pushed to the back of his mind. Of late, in the waking world, they had ceased to really bother him, and had seldom even been brought up. Obviously not so when his unconscious mind was in control.
But that's not true, is it? he heard in the back of his mind, from that little place where those thoughts and memories lay suppressed. He hated when that voice was right.
No, if he was honest, it wasn't completely true. There had been instances where he appeared to succumb to the influence of that little place while he was conscious. But he didn't want to believe it, didn't want to admit he wasn't in complete control. In fact, at that moment he made a decision, wanting to prove hehad control.
He stood up quickly and crossed to the bookshelf againstthe wall. Picking up one of the books there, not caring what the title was, he only took notice long enough to ensure it was one he knew had blank pages in the back for notes. He ripped a page out carefully, and searched the shelf for one of the archaic styluses he kept around for when he wanted to make notes in his readings. Finding what he was looking for, he placed the paper on the shelf for support and started scrawling.
After only a few moments, he grinned in relief, dropping the stylus to the shelf and lifting the small sheet of old paper to his eyes to better see the words that lie there. Score one point against that nagging little voice in the back of his head, he wasn't a slave to his demons.
Suddenly, however, as his eyes started to scan the verses in order, to see them assembled as they were in their entirety, his throat tightened and he looked away, bombarded with mental images and whispered voices in his head - not his, this time, but those of his former tormentors. He quickly slapped the paper face down onto the shelf and turned away, breathing deeply to control his nerves.
So apparently it was a hollow victory. He could think about it, he could write it down…but once he attempted to read the words or listen - to put it all together - and the poem brought the nightmares to light. He wasn't ready, and that thought frustrated him more than anything he thought possible.
He shook his head at the irony. That poem had been ingrained in him by his father when he was a child, in the hopes that it would serve to ground him in the event of something like the torture he had recently gone through, so that it could help him hold onto his sanity. The problem was, it had worked. Now what had helped him to hold it back was a cause for him to lose it - it was something that wouldn't sit well with anyone, let alone a Nietzschean.
He sighed in resignation. At least he was able to write the words, that was something. Time. That's what he needed. It might take awhile, but as long as he didn't quit - something that never would have crossed his mind as being a viable option in the first place - he was positive he'd eventually get over whatever the hell was haunting him. He'd certainly had to do it before.
As he pulled himself from his thoughts, he turned and headed for the shower; it was time for him to get ready for Command. Dwelling on his problems certainly wasn't going to help him with getting rid of them.
-o-
True to her word, a few minutes later the door slid open and revealed the resident golden woman. She stepped further into the room.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Have a seat." Dylan gestured to a chair opposite himself, incidentally the very one Rhade himself had sat in the last time he had "visited" the Captain. She sat down. "I wanted to talk to you about Rhade."
She nodded. "His progress is coming along well. He should be fit to return to full duty in a matter of a week or so."
"That's not what I wanted to talk about." He was met with her questioning look. "How's his mental state? Nightmares?"
She nodded again in understanding. "That answer is not as easy. I was aware of the nightmares, yes. While I can't say for sure how he is coping with them, I can say that it is normal for someone in his condition to experience them."
"Yes, but isn't it also normal, or at least necessary, for someone to have an outlet for any lingering issues? Someone to talk to?"
"Usually."
"Well, now we have a problem. As I'm sure you're aware, Rhade doesn't seem to think he needs anyone to talk to."
Trance's face was devoid of emotion. "As I suspected. I did try to talk to him about it, but he wasn't very cooperative."
Dylan gave her a small, tired smile. "That seems to be the general consensus."
"Would you like me to try again?"
Dylan smiled again, but this time it was a little more forced. "Ah, but now we have another problem. You and Rhade aren't really communicating well these days. From what I and others have seen, you're avoiding one another and only talking when necessary."
Trance looked down at her hands, silent.
"Look Trance, I can't force you two to cooperate, at least not effectively. But he needs you, you're probably the only one who can get through to him."
She looked up. "Dylan, I've tried. He's not comfortable around me anymore."
"What happened between you?" he asked, getting a little frustrated.
She appeared a little apprehensive. "He thinks I'm keeping something from him."
"And are you?" She avoided his gaze. "Dammit Trance, I need to know what's going on so I can help. Help the both of you. Now, I take it there is something you haven't told him."
She sounded almost sheepish when she answered, "In a way."
He waited, but she remained silent after that. He sighed and pushed away from his chair, pacing the room. "Alright, I'll play your game." His voice betrayed his growing irritation. "None of this started until after we found him, so I'm guessing something happened in the interim that somehow affects him, or both of you."
Her voice was shy, timid - surprising him a little. "Not exactly…."
"Well, what then!"
He could see the internal struggle seeping into her features. When she finally answered, it wasn't at all what he expected.
"How well did you know Gaheris Rhade?"
Dylan was thrown for a moment at the odd question. He stopped his rounds and opted to reclaim his chair. "Well…at the time I would have thought very well, but in hindsight I'd say that would be wrong." His voice was laced with the hint of sarcasm.
"But his personality, his mannerisms…would you say that you knew them?"
Dylan thought for a moment before answering. "Yes, I would."
Once again, Trance was hesitant. "And how would you compare them to Telemachus?"
He had no idea where she was taking him, but figured the best way to find out would be to tag along. "They certainly have their differences, but I'll admit ancestor and descendant are similar, in more ways than one. Then again, at least some behavioural traits are linked to genetics, and they are genetically identical, so I suppose it doesn't come as much of a surprise."
She leaned forward. "And have you ever wondered about that?"
Dylan was caught off-guard - for a moment she almost seemed like the old Trance: mysterious, enigmatic…amused.
For the second time in recent weeks, he felt himself remembering a conversation that was years old….
-
"It's quite rare, but it does happen."
"What are the odds? My own First Officer reincarnated on a planet settled by my fiancée?"
"The chance of a specific human DNA combination reoccurring is approximately one in three-times-ten to the fifteenth power."
"…The odds are still in the trillions…."
-
Tyr had been right, apparently - it was a big universe. His thoughts returned to the present. "I'll admit, at the time I thought it was a little…convenient."
"And now?"
He stared at her, trying to peer behind those misleading eyes. She was insinuating something, and he didn't know what. Not that it was surprising, but he wasn't sure how much more cryptic information he could take from her; he'd had a lot lately. But then again, she'd also presented him with some hard explanations in the last few months, perhaps he could manage one out of her this time.
"Trance, I don't know what you want me to say." She remained silent. "Yes, I can see how Gaheris and Telemachus are similar, but I can't see how this --"
"Same."
It had been uttered so quietly that Dylan wasn't sure she had actually said anything. "I'm sorry?"
She looked up from where she'd been studying her hands. He was quite surprised to see the sadness there. He didn't say anything, however, as she spoke first.
"Not similar, the same. Environmental situations can account for the subtle differences in their personalities, but they are the same."
Dylan frowned as a memory surfaced. "Isn't that what Telemachus said when --"
"When you brought him to Medical, yes. For a moment I believed he had somehow figured it out, but soon it became clear that he did not, that it was just a fluke."
"…Figured what out?" he asked slowly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. "Trance?"
She closed her eyes momentarily, chewing on her lip, summoning her courage. When her eyes opened once more, he saw determination there, and the lightest hint of guilt. She breathed deeply.
"Dylan, Telemachus is Gaheris."
To Be Continued...
And before you ask - no, I haven't lost my marbles. At least not all of them. I'm sure there were still a few floating around here earlier...