Author's Note: I know there's no excuse for this 9 months break yet again. Last time we talked I was going to my prom. Now I'm starting my second semester at the University or Maryland. Well I hope there are still some readers. Please forgive me, my friends.

Chapter 12

"Rev!" Beka's anxiety was momentarily forgotten. She ran to her old fried and gave him a warm hug. The half-human, half-Magog was dressed in his old worn robes and embraced her with open arms, his deformed face turning up in a smile. Telemachus' brow drew tightly together at this sight. Despite what he had heard from Beka and the rest of the crew about Rev Bem's religious nature, he was not nearly ready to trust the Magog, especially around Beka and their unborn child. However, it seemed that he was the only once concerned. When Beka pulled back from the hug, her face was nearly glowing.

"It is good to see you as well, Beka," the monk smiled warmly. He looked over her shoulder at Telemachus, acknowledging him with a nod. "You as well, Admiral Rhade."

"It's no longer Admiral," Telemachus corrected. "Not since Tarazed joined the New Commonwealth over a year ago."

"Ah yes," Rev agreed. "Forgive me, I am a bit behind in the news, but I have heard as such." He turned back to Beka. "Apparently there are some other things that I've missed. I have recently come across someone I believe belongs to the two of you."

Now he had both of their attention. Beka's blue eyes went wide with hope, and Telemachus took a step forward to stand by her side. "Tristan?" she asked breathlessly. "You saw Tristan."

"I came across the boy when his escape pod crashed here a several hours ago," Rev nodded. "Imagine my surprise when he named the Andromeda as his home and you as his parents. You must pardon my curiosity, but I was unaware that you two had known each other prior to..."

"We didn't," Beka interrupted. "It's a long story, Rev. Where is Tristan?"

"Oh quite safe, I assure you," the Magog nodded. "I took him back to the monastery to take some rest. He is well cared for, I promise."

"Then take us to him," Telemachus demanded, and Beka flinched at the sharpness of his voice. She'd nearly forgotten the typical animosity that passed from most species towards the Magog. Or rather she hadn't forgotten, but Beka had rarely had to be reminded that Rev was still a member of that blood-thirsty species. And for all the anger and hatred most people directed towards the Magog, no one hated them as much as the Nietzscheans. She shot Rhade an angry look, but Rev only bowed his head in understanding.

"Of course. If you'll follow me," he gestured to their right. "And on the way, Beka, if you would be so kind as to inform me on this... interesting turn of event?"

"You first," they fell into step, Beka and Rev walking a few steps head of Rhade who lagged behind, his sharp eyes never leaving the back of Rev's head. The Magog must have been aware of the Nietzschean male's hard gaze, but ignored it.

"I have visited this place before," Rev explained. "Before I came to stay with you on the Maru. Since this particular drift is one of the furthest outposts of the known worlds, it is perfect for meditation and solitude. It is secluded and peaceful, precisely what I required after my... misadventure."

"Misadventure?" Rhade raised his voice from behind them, but was silenced by the second hard look Beka shot in his direction. He bit the inside of his lip; she was sure to make him regret it later.

The inside of the monastery could not be more different than the drift that surrounded it. If Telemachus wasn't aware that they were in orbit, he would have never guessed that they were in space at all. The walls were made of stone, probably brought from the surface of the planet. While Wayasts had little in the ways of icons of worship, many were crouched in front of makeshift alters in silent prayer.

Telemachus never had anything against the religion itself. Tarazed consisted of many races and religions, and he had been taught to respect them all. He always figured that if the rest of the Nietzschean population took half a moment to think, they would realize that it was completely counter productive to alienate potential allies, but of course his off-world brethren never looked at it that way. Their philosophy was simple: kill or be killed, and Telemachus regarded most with at the very least mild contempt. However, now he felt himself reverting back to his more basic instincts. It didn't seem to matter that Beka insisted to the contrary; he still saw the Magog as a threat to his family.

Rev lead them into a smaller room, probably intended for visitors or passing pilgrims. As he explained, few monks actually lived on the drift permanently, but many stopped by for extended periods of time in order to take the time to guide themselves back to the Way. For this reason a fair portion of the monastery was comprised of rooms with four to eight beds. It was nothing fancy, but then people knew not to expect much.

Tristan sat cross-legged on top of one of the beds, chin propped up on his hand while his dark brown eyes bore into the worn pages of the enormous book in his lap. Anyone who didn't know him would have laughed at the sight of a six-year-old with such a text, but both Beka and Telemachus knew that Tristan was more than capable of absorbing the words, if not comprehending at least part of the text. When he saw his parents, Tristan instantly shut the book (no small feat at considering its size) and jumped from the bed to run straight into his mother's arms.

"Mommy," Beka felt her heart tighten at the sound of his voice. They had only been separated but a few hours but the fear of loosing him had made it feel like ages. She held him like all those nights in the early days of his stay on the Andromeda when he used to have nightmares. Only this time she was much more afraid but also relieved at the same time that her own nightmare was finally over. She pulled back to take a better look at him, brushing away stray locks from his face.

"Are you okay, baby?" Beka's eyes fell on the small scrape on his cheek. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid the young master fell into a slight altercation with an ill-tempered Chichen merchant upon his arrival," Rev chimed in with an explanation.

"An altercation," Rhade repeated, angry eyes once again falling on the Magog. "With a Chichen? He is six-years-old!"

"Rev saved me," Tristan chimed in, wriggling out of his mother's embrace. He grinned. "I thought I was in trouble for a second."

Beka turned to Rev, her hand still resting on her son's shoulder. "Thanks for everything." Her eyes shifted to Telemachus, and for a moment Beka feared his reaction. But Rhade dropped his arms that had been crossed over his chest and nodded thoughtfully before meeting the Magog's patient gaze.

"Yes, thank you," he bowed his head. "Thank you for my son's life."

"Of course," Rev bowed in return respectfully. "Beka, if I may have a word?"

She hesitated, looking between Tristan and Telemachus, but the older Nietzschean nodded. "Go talk. Tristan and I will stay here. What are you reading anyway?" he nodded at the heavy book discarded on the bed.

"Ah," Tristan looked at the cover. "The Philosophy of Religion. It's pretty good... I think."