Author's Note: Again, not sure where this is going but it seems to fit into the storyline so I'll just run with it. I think the chapters of these stories will be titled after songs of my favorite band, Kamelot. The song may or may not fit the chapter but at least the title will. Therefore the title of the overall story will remain "Memento Mori" but the title of the first chapter will be "Karma." Also once again thank you, Jamieson for beta reading.
Chapter 2 - Where I Reign
"Up for a game?"
Telemachus Rhade, who had been leaning on one of the bulkheads, lost in his own thoughts, looked up at the captain. Over the last few hours that he had been on the ship, Rhade had been less than social with the rest of the crew. He knew most were probably weary about having a Nietzschean on board again, especially one with the history he inevitable brought with him. It didn't help that the reason he was currently on the ship was due to the escape of the former crew member-turned-warlord, Tyr Anasazi.
At the moment, though, Dylan Hunt seemed more concerned about Telemachus himself than the escaped prisoner. The taller man observed him with careful eyes, as if studying a new phenomenon. Telemachus supposed he could hardly blame him. Despite everything he did for Tarazed or the New Commonwealth, he likewise knew that nothing would change his reflection in the mirror. But to Dylan's credit, he never made Telemachus feel like he held his ancestor's actions against him. Rather, he made every attempt to distinguish the two, even though the Nietzschean knew that every time he called him Rhade, a little part of Dylan couldn't help but remember his lost friend.
"A game?" Telemachus repeated curiously.
"Yeah," Dylan smiled. "We've got a few hours till the Commonwealth currier drops by to take you back to Tarazed. How about a game of Go?"
"Alright," the Nietzschean agreed somewhat reluctantly, following the captain back to his quarters. "Though I must admit I've never played before."
"You've never..." Dylan frowned at him. "Really?"
"I've seen some of the others at the academy play," Telemachus shrugged, "And I know the basic rules, but no, I've never played before."
"Well, then we'll fix that," the captain clapped the former Admiral on the back as they began to walk towards his quarters. Dylan opened his moth to say that Gaheris used to be good at it, even if he had caught the man cheating once, but thought better of the comment and didn't say anything.
When they arrived, the 3D board with three different levels was already sat up on the table. Telemachus noticed that the captain's quarters were divided into two sections that he hadn't previously observed. One large desk cluttered with flexies was designated for work while another slightly smaller space was set up for more recreational activates. Two comfortable-looking chairs were pulled up to the second table. There was a small bowl by the towering game board, and Dylan reached into it, pulling out two small stones.
"White or black?" he held out two Go pieces in each hand.
"Black," Telemachus took the dark stone without hesitation and sat down on the right.
Dylan, however, had hesitated. One out of two chances, rang in his mind. It was merely a coincidence. It didn't matter that Gaheris always played black, or that he always sat on the right side of the board. Banishing the haunting thought from his mind, the captain finally sat down as well.
"You know the basic rules, right?" he asked his new game partner. "You put your game pieces on the intersections of the lines, and the idea is to to maximize the territory you control on the board by surrounding as much space as possible with your pieces. So, for instance, if I surrounded your pieces, you have to take them off the board. Got it?"
"I think so," Telemachus nodded.
"Okay," Dylan smiled. "I promise to go easy on you."
"No need, captain," the other man assured him. "The only way for a Nietzschean to improve himself is to engage in continual self-assessment. If you were to intentionally throw the game, my assessment of my abilities, or in this case lack thereof, would be misleading, and therefore not beneficial in any way."
"I see," Dylan placed his first piece on the top level of the board. "So what you're saying is basically that cheating is pointless?"
"Sir?" Telemachus frowned, clearly not understanding the question.
"Cheating," the captain repeated. "According to what you just said, cheating is pointless."
"Perhaps it has its benefits in the short term," the Nietzschean reasoned, placing his own piece on the board. "But certainly not in the long run. You become in danger of overestimating your own abilities, which may prove fatal. Nietzscheans don't believe in optimism. It..."
"Inhibits survival," Dylan finished for him adding another stone. "Yeah, yeah so I've been told."
"By whom?" Telemachus asked with genuine curiosity, and suddenly Dylan realized that he'd stepped in it. The last person he wanted to discuss with the Lieutenant-Commander was the man's ancestor and genetic double. It was almost an unspoken decision between them that the subject of Gaheris Rhade was still too sour for comfort, and somehow Dylan doubted it would ever be otherwise.
"Oh, you know," he waved it off. "Word gets around."
Dylan was almost certain that Telemachus didn't believe him for a single second, but the younger man didn't argue, and the captain suspected that he was perhaps even grateful for the lie. He nodded silently and placed his own piece on 5D4. Dylan smiled.
"That's a good move," he commented. "Was one of my own, but you beat me to it."
"Thank you," Telemachus nodded. He wasn't quite sure how, but even as he put the piece down, Telemachus knew that it was a strategically sound move, and if he didn't make it, Dylan would.
They continued to play in silence, and as the game went on, Dylan had to admit that he was impressed with the Nietzschean's apparently very real skills in the game. If he hadn't said so himself, Dylan would have never believed it was the man's first time playing. Unlike most beginners, who threw their pieces on the board in a nearly random fashion in hopes of a lucky combination, every move that Telemachus made was precise and calculated for maximum efficiency. Some strategies, Dylan wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't seen them before.
"Sir, I must apologize for something," the other man spoke up after the prolonged period of silence. "Two years ago, you came to Tarazed with the offer to join the New Commonwealth, and I greeted you with... less than open arms."
"You did what you thought was best for your people," Dylan replied. "I can hardly hold that against you. Your intentions were in the right place."
"But so were his," Telemachus muttered through gritted teeth. "You know, growing up, there was a great deal of pressure on me to live up to his image, and more than anything I wished to be half the man he was. It's ironic that having finally archived that, I realize exactly what kind of man he was."
"He was..." Dylan paused looking for the right word, "Complicated. The truth is I may not know what really happened, but Gaheris is... was not a man I could ever easily label. When you put a hole in someone, you get a chance to think about what his life meant and why he lost it at your hands. Gaheris, too, was trying to protect his people, and even I have to admit that at the very least, in part, he was right."
"How so?" Telemachus frowned. He knew the captain was conflicted about the way he saw his former First Officer and best friend, but had assumed that Dylan finally wrote off Gaheris as a traitor and nothing more.
"Because of Brandenburg Tor," the captain explained. "The main catalyst of the revolt was the slaughter at Brandenburg Tor and the treaty of Antares." The former Admiral of Tarazed muttered a curse under his breath, but Dylan only laughed at his reaction.
"I take it you don't approve?"
"They compromised with monsters," he spat.
"That's exactly what Gaheris said," Dylan nodded. "And look at the outcome. Look at what we have on our hands now. He was right. Perhaps if the Commonwealth had put up a strong front, then, when it was more powerful, more united, we wouldn't have the problems we have now."
"Still, it does not excuse his actions," Telemachus insisted.
"No," the captain agreed. "No, it doesn't, but in the end Gaheris was one man, the Andromeda, one ship. It may not have mattered at all. Besides, if I knew him well - and despite everything, I believe I did - if Gaheris was here, he would not be proud of the outcome of his actions. You ancestor was not an evil man, Telemachus."
"I suppose," he didn't sound too convinced, but seemed willing to let it go, placing another piece on the board.
"You're worried," Dylan observed. "About how his actions will reflect on you in the New Commonwealth, especially now that Tyr has escaped. You're wondering if they will blame you."
"I wouldn't blame them if they did," Telemachus admitted. "One escaped Nietzschean warlord missing, and the descendant of a Nietzschean traitor who was responsible for bringing him in. I believe the conclusion is perfectly logical."
"Logical to whom?" one eyebrow raised. "Not to the people who know you. Listen, when we get to Tarazed, we'll straighten this whole thing out. Just worry about your territory on the board."
"Indeed," Rhade rubbed the bridge of his nose. Whether it was the escape of his prisoner and the feeling of failure, or the conversation he really hadn't wanted to have with the captain, but Telemachus suddenly felt weary. He looked at the board again, carefully studying each of the three levels before making his move. Now Dylan was really surprised.
"Are you sure you never played before?" the captain asked, slightly suspiciously.
"Positive," though even Telemachus had to admit that he was no longer so sure. His eyes scanned over the board again. "Ten," he muttered more to himself than to Dylan.
"Humm?" the other man looked up. "What was that?"
"Ten moves," the Nietzschean repeated. "Theoretically, I can win in ten moves." Dylan stared at him in bewilderment that made Telemachus feel as if he'd personally offended Dylan in the worst way possible.
"Theoretically," he repeated, hoping it would alleviate the look of near horror on Dylan's face that he honestly had no explanation for. Telemachus cleared his throat, looking down at the board but mostly avoiding the captain's wide eyes. The other man opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance too.
"Captain," Andromeda's soft female voice sounded through room. "Tri-Lorn is requesting an audience in command." Dylan and Telemachus exchanged a look.
"Well let's go see what the higher powers have for us today," the captain got up, not bothering to clean up the board. "We can finish the game later. You were winning, you know, Telemachus. Not bad for a first game."