Author's Note: I just got the second Andromeda book, Broken Places, and it mentioned that Ignatius Valentien used to beat his son, Rafe. I put that into this chapter, if you're wondering where it came from, it's from the book.

Chapter 4

Dylan had never truly appreciated the size of the task Beka and Rhade had taken on when they had agreed to become Tristan's legal parents and at the same time remain senior officers on board the Andromeda. In the past two weeks since Michael's birth, he acquired more fatigue than at any point during his long service in the High Guard. Being a captain and a new father were certainly not easy jobs separately, however at the same time, they were nearly impossible.

It was quite late by the time Susan returned from medical. She came into their shared quarters to discover a very amusing but touching scene of Dylan cradling his sleeping son in his arms while attempting to read a flex at the same time. The captain yawned widely and glanced down at the infant.

"You are so lucky you get to sleep twenty-one hours a day," he told the boy. Michael's forehead wrinkled, but he didn't wake up.

"What are you doing?" his wife's amused voice sounded from the doorway.

"I'm having a talk with my son," he replied seriously, glancing up from the baby for a mere second.

"He doesn't know how to listen," Susan informed him with a smile.

"Does anyone around here?" Dylan got up and gently placed the infant in his mother's arms. "I have to go. I have a meeting with that senator."

"Are you sure you don't want to take a nap first?" she offered.

"No, that's okay. This little guy is doing enough for both of us," Dylan touched his son's cheek with his finger, and the baby reflexively turned his head at the contact. "I don't need sleep."

The captain greatly regretted that decision only minutes later in his office. He sank into his chair and quickly scanned the flex that Talia brought with her once more then looked up at the senator seated across the table. "This very sketchy. I'd like to know ahead of time what I'm getting my crew into."

"For now all you need to know is that you are to escort me to Tarazed," Talia replied coolly. "Your mission will be explained further once we reach the capital world."

Dylan glanced between her and the flex. Something didn't feel right. "Nevertheless, senator, I would appreciate a detailed outline before you make any public announcements."

"This isn't my assignment," she objected. "It comes from the Triumvirs."

"They know about this already?"

"Yes. In fact they are in the process of arranging more detailed instructions as we speak. You cannot refuse this mission, captain. My only reason for being on Tarazed is to make the announcement and to ensue that Oedekirk gets the credit it deserves."

Dylan refrained from rolling his eyes. The woman was a true politician after all, concerning herself solely with the popularity of the planet she represented. Still one thing bothered him. "Why did you choose my ship?"

Talia had gotten up and was already at the door. She turned her head and considered his question before answering carefully. "Because I believe that of all people, you would appreciate having the opportunity to undertake this task. Now I'd like to retire to my quarters."

Without waiting for the captain's response, she made her exit. Dylan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This certainly brought back memories, mostly those of strong frustration regarding the arrogant behavior of a certain Nietzschean grand duchess. Dylan came to the conclusion that women in politics just didn't mix well with him. The negotiations left the captain with more questions than answers. He desperately wanted to get some sleep, but he knew that he needed to inform Beka of their destination. That way, they'd be in Tarazed by the time he woke up.

However when he reached command, Dylan was not pleased to find that his first officer was once again missing. "Andromeda, where's Beka?"

"Deck forty-three," replied the AI. "Training room. She is currently engaged in a target practice program."

"Call her," he ordered. "Tell her we have orders to go to Tarazed."

"Aye, captain."

---

It didn't take Beka long to realize that, for once, being in the Maru wasn't helping. The ship was too full of memories of her past, the very things she was hoping to escape. After lashing out on a poor innocent lancer stationed at the hanger bay doors, she finally decided to take her frustration to the training room for some target practice.

She pulled out her gun and ordered for the targets to be brought up. Instantly, the hologram of an angrily-looking Magog appeared before her, and Beka fired. She had dead aim. The represented wounds began to bleed red pixels, and the first hologram disappeared only to be replaced by the second and third. Beka didn't even blink as she continued to fire at the computer generated opponents. She no longer saw the images of Magog. To her, it was just anger, resentment, hate, feelings that she was trying to destroy.

Beka Valentine could remember admiring her mother. How could she not, when the woman was always so beautiful, so powerful, and so quick to exert her will over the universe? Seven-year-old Beka had always pictured herself as having the best qualities of both of her parents: a fearless sharp-tongued pilot with the poise and grace of a princess. Yes, Beka had certainly worshiped her mother, even loved her. The trouble was that no matter how hard she tried, Beka couldn't remember feeling that love in return. Talia had always held a cool and distant demeanor, even with her children. It wasn't that she ever beat them, unlike Ignatius who has been known to turn to violence against Rafe, his son, especially while on Flash. No, Talia had never raised a hand to her children, but she'd never offered them one either.

She sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm, then slowly lowered her weapon. "End training simulation," there was a pause. "How was the envoy from hell?"

There was a light hearted chuckle from the door, and the sound of soft footsteps headed in her direction. Seconds later, arms wrapped around her waist. Telemachus smiled, his cheek pressed against hers. "You're getting better. I wasn't sure you could hear me."

"I didn't," Beka admitted, leaning into her lover's embrace. "My sixth sense has been working overtime lately. So was she worse than you though?"

"No," he admitted, "but then my expectations weren't terribly high. She's good at what she does, nothing more."

"Humm," Beka didn't offer a more coherent reply, so Telemachus tried a different approach.

"I know something that will make you feel better."

Beka turned her head slightly to look at him. "Nice long bath and hot steamy sex?"

He smiled. "That's an idea. Maybe I'll treat you to all that later, if you're good, but I had something else in mind at the moment."

He took a step back and took her hand pulling her after him. Beka reluctantly followed. They made their way through the halls until they reached his quarters. The doors slid open with a hiss, and Beka stepped in. Immediately her eyes fell upon Tristan's sleeping form. Telemachus stepped in behind her, pointing at their son.

"She is good at what she does, Beka, but Talia's a politician, no more. But you... you are something far greater. You are a mother, and no one but Tristan may judge you on that," he paused. "You know he loves you."

She nodded and took a few steps forward and sank to her knees by his bed. Tristan looked absolutely angelic, sleeping quite soundly. No nightmares haunted him that evening. His mother reached over and brushed a stray curl from his face and smiled. Her moment of peace was interrupted when Andromeda's holographic avatar appeared before her.

"Beka," the AI's voice was mindful of the sleeping child, "we have orders to head to Tarazed. Dylan requires your presence in command to pilot."

Without waiting for a reply, the avatar disappeared. Beka glanced between the space that the ship's persona had just occupied and her son. As much as she enjoyed piloting, Beka felt that at the moment she would much rather stay with Tristan, where she felt at peace for the first time in two days. Telemachus seemed to sense that.

"It is my home planet," he pointed out as a matter of fact. "Perhaps, since I am well familiar with the slipstream rout, I should pilot."

It was a ridiculous excuse. Even though the rout to Tarazed was not simple, Beka had taken it enough times in the past two years to be able to follow it without any difficulty. His suggestion was purely for her benefit, and Beka appreciated the thought. She nodded.

"Thanks."

"Of course," he said already heading for the door.