Author's Note: I wish all chapters got finished this quickly. Please read and review. Hope you like it.
Chapter 2
Tristan also hated drifts, but he hadn't realized it until after he and his father arrived. His problem wasn't the noise or smell. They only added to the unpleasantness. His real dilemma was memory, for it was on a drift not unlike this one on which he'd spent the first four and a half years of his life. It was a time of hunger and pain that he struggled to forget, but his current surroundings would not allow it, constantly bombarding the child with familiar sights. As Rhade predicted, Tristan stayed as close to him as possible.
The two made their way to the station where Rhade gave the manager the order for the supply shipment. The short heavy man said that it would take about two hours to gather everything they required and that at the end if that time, a transport would bring it to the Andromeda. Rhade thanked him, saying that they'd be back later and follow the transport to the Andromeda to make sure all went as planned.
"Can we get something to eat?" Tristan asked.
"I doubt you can find anything decent," Telemachus glanced around, "but lets go see if we can run into anything half decent."
A half hour later they settled on a small fast food place that Telemachus didn't object to too much. Given the chance, Tristan could eat almost any junk food. It was a habit that Rhade blamed entirely on Harper. However Beka suspected that it was the fact that Tristan was almost starved early in life that made him less than picky about his food.
They ordered and sat down at the corner table near the entrance to a small ship. No one dared to bother the Nietzschean male and his son. Occasionally Telemachus caught a few hard glances from the Chichin and Nightsider at the bar. He casually extended and retracted his bone blades, and the pair quickly averted their gazes. Rhade looked at Tristan, blissfully sipping his drink. The child was oblivious to the prejudice directed at them. Good, thought Telemachus. Hopefully he'll never see it. But even as he thought it, he knew it was a fool's hope.
Tristan, having never lost his perceptiveness, stopped mid bite and looked up at his father, who was deep in thought. "Dad," when Rhade didn't respond, he reached over the table and touched his arm. "Dad, are you okay?"
The sound of his son's voice brought Telemachus back to reality. "I'm fine," he assured him. "Are you finished?"
Tristan looked down at his food. Suddenly he didn't feel so hungry anymore. "Yeah, I'm done."
"Alright," Telemachus looked at his watch. "We have another half hour."
"Oh," the boy suddenly remembered. "Harper and I need red paint. It's for our jet," he elaborated when he saw Rhade's raised brows.
"Ah I see," he smiled.
"To make it look cool. It's important," Tristan insisted, sensing his father wasn't taking him seriously.
"I never said it wasn't," Telemachus held up his hands in mock defense while privately wondering if they were Tristan's own words or Harper's. He suspected it was the latter. "We can check in that store," he nodded his head at the shop next to the restarant. "If not, we'll ask the manager at the shipping station. They'll be sure to have some there."
As it happened, the store didn't carry any sort of crafts. It was just a modest gift shop with some simple jewelry and a few cards. Tristan was disappointed, but he soon brightened up when his eyes fell on a card. Telemachus looked down and smiled when Tristan held up a card.
"You want to get it for your mother?" Tristan nodded vigorously. "It's very sweet. I think she'll love it."
He paid for the card and returned with Tristan to the shipping yard. The needed supplies were soon loaded onto several transports and Rhade and Tristan followed them to the Andromeda. Tristan sat at the window and watched as his father brought the cargo ship out of the drift's docking station and set it on auto pilot as they entered smooth sailing. Telemachus glanced over his shoulder and frowned.
The boy was very quiet, which was odd for he was usually so full of energy. The only time Tristan became so still and silent was when the past returned to haunt him. Sometimes he cried, and then either Beka or Telemachus would come and hold him until the tears died down. Tristan never spoke of his nightmares to either parent. Telemachus often wondered if Tristan felt he was protecting them or if he feared that if they knew, Beka and Telemachus wouldn't love him any more.
Silently, he moved from the pilots chair and made his way to the window where Tristan sat, gazing at the stars. Without a word, he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, then sat down and gathered the boy into his arms. Tristan didn't resist or cry, but after a moment of stillness, buried his face in his father's chest. He was grateful for the silence, grateful that Telemachus hadn't insisted to know what was wrong. It just having his father there was comforting.
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Because of the odd time shift from the drift to the Andromeda, the pair returned when the early morning shift was just beginning. Once Telemachus was certain that the ship received all the supplies, he and Tristan headed down the hall to command. Tristan wanted to give Beka the card and then head over to the machine shop to start coloring the model jet. However they didn't get a chance to get half way when Telemachus spotted Beka quickly heading their way. Immediately he saw something was wrong. She was walking too quickly and wore a frown of worry, which she was trying to hide. As Beka drew closer, Telemachus heard the rapid thumping of her heart beat. Usually that sound pleased him, but at the moment, it was not a rhythm he liked. Amazingly enough, Tristan didn't seem to notice. He ran up to Beka, grinning from ear to ear, and held up the card. "Mommy, look what we got for you."
For the sake of her son, Beka put on a mask of contentment. She smiled and graciously received the card. "Thank you, baby. It's beautiful. Now why don't you go find Harper? I think he was asking about you."
Tristan nodded and ran past her to the machine shop, carrying the bag with the paint. His mother liked the card, so now his job was done. When he was out of sight, Telemachus looked at Beka in concern. "Rebecca, are you alright? Has something has happened?"
She gave a short humorless laugh shaking her head in disbelief. "You know, Telemachus, you're lucky Gaheris Rhade is dead. Otherwise, chances are, he'd come back and bite you in the ass."
"I don't follow," he admitted, more confused than ever, but before Beka had a chance to explain, Andromeda's voice sounded over the com system.
"Attention all senior officers. Please report to command immediately. Incoming communication from the approaching cruse ship."