Chapter 11

The origins of Purgatory Drift were quite different from those of an ordinary space station. While most drifts were built by merchants and cargo runners, Purgatory Drift was founded by Wayast monks. Floating on the very edge of the known worlds, it was a place for weary travelers to stop and rest. Wayasts came there to spread their faith with the travelers and meat with one another. At least that was the situation a hundred years ago.

But over the last century, privet investors began to build their shops around the small floating monastery and turn Purgatory into a drift like all others. Most monks objected, but some welcomed the business class. One could not survive on faith alone, they reasoned. Still Purgatory remained a great deal cleaner and safer than most other drifts. As per their agreement with the monks, the merchants had kept their businesses low key. Purgatory had its share of shady characters, but there were no brothels or other distasteful places.

Fagin was a typical Chichin; typically bad-tempered and typically down on his luck. Except one morning, he figured his luck must be changing. Fagin stumbled out of the back of his little shop where the shipments came in. The Chichin was as in his usual half-drunk state, but his senses weren't as dull as to miss the round escape pod crashed in the middle of his docking platform. It must have fallen less than an hour ago, because the bent metal around it was still hot.

As the Chichin cautiously approached it, the pod opened with a his, and he jumped out of the way as a small form literal rolled out on the floor directly in front of the merchant's feet. The Chichin snarled, upon noting the boy's bone blades, and before the child could rise to his feet, he grabed him by the scarf of the neck.

"What were ya doin' in there, ya little uber?" spat Fagin.

"Rebecca," Telemachus jogged after her as Beka swiftly headed to prep the Maru. "Beka, please stop. You know I'm getting really tiered of this view of your back."

"Then walk faster," she shot back without once slowing down.

Telemachus shook his head. He could hardly blame Beka for not thinking clearly. What was supposed to be the happiest time in their lives, was quickly turning into a nightmare. He ran in front of her to block her way, and Beka was about to object, but Rhade grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Listen to me," he pleaded. "This isn't helping. You must calm down."

"Why?" Beka screamed at him. "I'm not sure if you got the memo, but my son is missing!"

Rhade felt like he had just been splashed with cold water. "He's my son too, Beka," he scowled at her, "and no matter how upset you are right now, I won't let you imply that I don't care about him. Just stop and think for a second. Did you ask Andromeda to trace the path of that escape pod?"

In her anger, Beka hadn't thought of that. "No," she admitted, slightly relaxing her shoulders until Rhade let her go.

"Then let's do that and follow the path on the Maru," the Nietzschean gently suggested. "If you prep the Maru, I'll tell Dylan what's going on and get the rout from Andromeda. Sound reasonable?"

Beka nodded, and Rhade ran towards command. When he was out of sight, she released a deep breath and placed her palm over her still-flat abdomen. "You sure you want to come into such a dysfunctional family?" she asked her unborn child, but of course there was no response. "Yeah, you're probably right; we'll find your big brother and tell your daddy about you later."

Tristan hadn't had time to orient himself before he was dragged off the ground by the Chichin. He'd hit his head pretty hard when the pod crashed down on the dock, but other than that was relatively uninjured. Though still terribly afraid, he let his survival instincts guide him. Twisting his small but quite strong body, Tristan managed to wiggle out of the alien's grip. He landed on his feet, and ran as quickly as he could through the shop, and into the crowded central part of the drift. Behind him, he heard the Chichin shouting.

" 'Ey, get back here, ya bloody bastard!" but Tristan was already far gone. He ran through the crowed until he was fairly certain he lost his pursuer. Tristan rounded a corner into an empty alleyway, and pressed his back against the cool metal of the wall to catch his breath. Everything happened so quickly that the boy didn't even have a chance to examine his situation. He was clearly no longer on the Andromeda. Wherever he ended up, the place reminded him too much of the drift where he spent the first five years of his life. Tristan took several deep breaths. His survival instincts were quickly fading, leaving room for panic to set in.

" 'S okay," Tristan reasoned through the anxiety. He hadn't even noticed that his speech had shifted back to the primitive broken up language often used by the common people on drifts. He peaked a glance over the corner. The streets were filled with people, but Tristan saw no trace of presut. He carefully stepped out of his hiding place, and was just about to relax, but then he was pushed roughly to the ground. Tristan scrambled to his hands and knees, staring wide eyed at the Chichin.

"Thought ya could get away, huh?" he sneered at the child.

Tristan was too scared to try to run again, but then he noticed a dark figure come into view behind the Chichin. He couldn't see the face, because it was covered with a hood, but the hands that peered from beneath long sleeves were clearly not human.The three fingers on each hand bore something that was closer to claws than nails.

"I believe you should leave the young master alone," said the figure in a calm but insistent voice.

"And what if I don't?" the merchant whirled away from Tristan. "What are you gonna do about it, monk?"

The cloaked figure brought his hands up to the cloak, and threw it back to reveal his face. That was when Tristan thought that perhaps he was better off taking his chances with the Chichin. Apparently the merchant thought the same, because he quickly backed down. With a moking bow, the Chichin quickly scurried out of the way. Tristan quickly climed to his feet.

"You are very far from home, child," the monk leaned down so they were at eye level. "There are no Nietzschean prides in this area of space."

"I ain't from a pride," Tristan spat angrily. "M' name's Tristan. I'm from the Andromeda Ascendant." He hoped the mention of the war ship would keep the creature from harming him.

"The Andromeda?" the monk's eyes widened. "What is your full name, child?"

"Tristan Valentine Rhade," the boy replied, puzzled. How did this person know about the Andromeda?

The creature smirked, upon hearing those two names. "Really now? That is curious. Well come along, Tristan. We can wait for your parents some place nicer than this."

As soon as the Maru's on board computer located the pod, Beka brought the ship to a landing at the ship's docking station. She cursed that she couldn't land the Maru exactly where the pod was located, but the ship was simply too large for that.Telemachus didn't say anything. After a year of friendship and another year of sharing her bed, he'd learned to read Beka well. Beka was very protective of her son, and the last outburst showed what he had already suspected; pregnancy did nothing to improve her sense of reason. If he attempted to console her again, Rhade knew he would end up on the wrong end of another verbal lashing.

They left the Maru in the hanger and, with guidance from Andromeda, made their way back to the pod's landing point. "I hope he stayed put," Beka muttered under her breath.

"I'm sure he did," Telemachus offered. "From our last visit, it was obvious Tristan isn't comfortable with drifts."

"What the hell possessed him to run off like that?" she ranted. "Why didn't Andromeda stop the pod?"

Before Telemachus could respond, a voice from the crowed called to them. "Well I must admit, you two are the last people I expected to see together like this."