Dylan gave the courier a handful of the bits of metal that passed for currency in this area. Telemachus saw the exchange out of the corner of his eye but tried to ignore it. It was probably nothing. And even if it wasn't nothing, he had his own tasks which demanded his concentration. He was sifting through reports of Genite activity, some months old and few from reliable sources.

He heard Dylan's heart and respiration speed up as he read the message. He focused his eyes on the flexis and paper strewn in front of him. None of them mentioned a suspicion of revolution stirring on the world of humanity's origin. He was currently reading them for details he could use to their advantage, but that had taken a pressing weight off his mind.

Now it that weight was back, heavy as ever. Why wasn't Dylan saying anything? He thought he might casually turn around in a few moments and notice something in Dylan's hand when the man finally did speak.

"He agreed," he said, in a wondering tone. "I don't believe it."

Rhade set down the flexi he'd been clutching for the past few minutes and not reading at all. He tried to look surprised. "Who agreed? To what, exactly?" As if he didn't know.

Dylan looked up. Telemachus believed the man had spoken to himself and was only now remembering his presence. "That man you mentioned, Tyr Anasazi. He sends his sympathies. He also thinks we're both insane but is willing to meet with us. He doesn't get much amusement here."

Telemachus allowed himself a smile at the captain's expression. "You should be skeptical. But you should also keep an open mind. Nietzscheans work well under pressure, when there's someone to fight."

"And when there's not?"

"Captain, there's always someone to fight, even if he's your brother."

Dylan looked suitably chilled at this. Telemachus didn't know exactly what had taken place aboard the Andromeda Ascendant during those minutes before her deep sleep, but he suspected that the idealistic Dylan Hunt had received some very rude knocks lately.

"But I don't think you should attend this initial meeting."

Dylan glanced up so fast that Rhade thought he must have suffered whiplash. "You just told me..."

"... to keep an open mind. And I stand by that. But if you rush into this, the man will think you a fool. He might kill you and try to take the Andromeda."

Dylan thought about this for a little while and saw a Nietzschean logic in it. "Speaking of the Andromeda, I'm going to go monitor the progress of her repairs. I hope your engineers are as good as they say they are." He paused halfway out the door. "His kid is the Nietzschean messiah?"

Rhade nodded.

Dylan peered closely at the other man and then shook his head. "I will never understand your people, Telemachus."

The admiral gave him a small smile and then returned his attention to his reply to the Kodiak. He would have to handle this with utmost delicacy while appearing to do nothing of the sort. Though he hated to admit it, he found the challenge refreshing and invigorating.

After locating a reliable and discreet courier, he sent the message on its way. A few minutes later, his comm beeped insistently. It was either the Andromeda or... He tapped the screen and brought up a familiar face.

"Admiral?" Dark circles ringed tired eyes, and ash smudged gaunt cheeks. Rhade didn't think he'd ever been so happy to see someone.

"Triumvir. Yes, it's me. The rumors have reached you, then?" Rhade had judged it too dangerous to send any news of his arrival through official channels, so he had spread whispers in taverns and hoped the right people would hear and believe them and the wrong would dismiss them as fantasy.

"They have. I'm sending you a set of coordinates. I hope to see you there tomorrow at twenty-one hundred, local time." The face disappeared.

One of them was alive, one and maybe more. He had stumbled aboard a High Guard ship of the line and recently extended tentative offers of an alliance with one of the few intelligent Nietzscheans alive today. Together, they might yet bend the universe to a more preferable shape.

A few thousand miles away...

"Okay. So we're here." Beka examined the read-outs from her console. The Maru had taken the flight and rough landing very well, and she patted the bulkhead thankfully. "Now what?"

"I want to go outside," Trance exclaimed as she bounced near the viewscreen. "It looks so pretty!"

Beka craned her neck and hmphed. It didn't look like much to her. "Got a plan, Harper, now that we're home-sweet-home?"

Harper shook his head. "Hey, this wasn't my idea, guys. And this isn't Boston." He brought up a map and searched for the longitude and latitude the ship was registering. "We're... France. Or Spain." He paused. "Maybe Italy?"

"That means nothing to me, Harper," Beka said impatiently. "What's out here?"

Rev held up a clawed hand. "I believe I can answer that. I'm afraid I have not been entirely forthcoming with you."

Beka and Harper exchanged looks. Nothing good ever followed that kind of statement.

"I have reason to believe that there is a fledging resistance in this area."

"Hold up, Rev. Don't tell me they're resisting the same people who want our collective ass?"

Rev bowed his head. "They are. They are a small group now, but I believe they will prove a force for the Genites to reckon with before long."

Trance gave him an appraising look which he did not acknowledge. "I think it's a good idea, you guys. They can always use another pilot, engineer, linguist, and..."

"Finder of things people want," Beka supplied with a smile. Now, why did she feel like she'd just agreed to something? "Do you have anything specific on 'em, Rev, like where they might be in France or Spain or Italy? Not that I'm agreeing just yet."

"I think I could locate them."

This was shaping up to be one of the strangest days Beka Valentine had ever lived, and she had lived through a lot of weirdness. She threw her hands up. "That's a yes from Trance and Rev. What about you, mudfoot?"

Harper shrugged. "Sounds good. It's not as good as throwing off the chains of Dragan tyranny... and come to think of it, the Genites did accomplish that for us. But it's been too long since I've kicked bigoted ass. I say we go for it. You, boss?"

"Sure. Let's get laughed out of their, um, camp or shot the moment we turn our backs. It'll be better than Genite high-tech torture, at least."

"That's the spirit!"

The Maru was ill-suited to atmospheric flying, but she scooted her way through Earth's ozone without problem and landed a few clicks from Rev's mystery X. Sure enough, they were surrounded by sentries the minute they left the ship.

"Nice to see you still got it, Rev," Beka muttered. "Trance, could you do the honors?"

Strangers tended to react to Trance the best of all of them. Rev was unfailingly polite but unfortunately armed with the fangs and claws of a killer. Harper was unpredictable and suspicious, and Beka was hardly less paranoid. Besides, none of them were sparkly.

"Hi, guys! Um, I'm Trance. This is the Eureka Maru." They weren't lowering their guns just yet. "Well, see, a little while ago we found out that the Genites wanted to arrest us for something we didn't do. I promise! Anyway, Rev," she pointed at the monk, "suggested that we come here because they wouldn't look for it here, and Harper," here she indicated the short blond, "is always going on about how great it is... besides the Nietzscheans and the Magog." She noticed that some of the guards sported bone blades and laughed. "Uh, no offense. The Dragans are the ones he doesn't like."

Harper said something under his breath, and Beka elbowed him.

"So we were wondering if we could join your little rebellion!" Trance finished with a smile.

The guns didn't move.

Beka cleared her throat. "Right. Thanks, Trance. I hate to sound cliché, but if you aren't going to kill us outright, do you think you could take us to your leader?"

A tall man with raven-dark hair stepped through the circle. "Actually, I was just going there myself."