No one spoke much, savoring the comfortable thrum of the engines underfoot and th predictable flashed and whirs of the Maru at work. It was nice, flying without the sound of weapons fire behind them, without the urgency of a smuggled run or fervent prayers that a warrant ahead of them had expired.

Any other time, she would have set her controls on auto-pilot for such a short, mundane run, but she thought that soon, she might start missing short and mundane. Somehow, she had joined a rebellion, and they tended to be of the epic struggle sort, unless they were the brief, violent type, and she would much prefer epic, as she had more of a chance of surviving that one. Beka Valentine had known very little boredom throughout her life, and it didn't look like she would strike up an acquaintance with the sentiment anytime soon.

It was a shock to hear Dylan's voice echo through the cockpit. "Eureka Maru, you are clear to dock."

She blinked. "Oh, thanks. See you in a few."

The Maru landed in a hiss of steam, tiny and ramshackle in the smooth, soaring bays of Andromeda's hangar. It made her feel like a part of something bigger, and it wasn't a comfortable feeling. She had always been one or part of a small team, an equal, a necessary cog in her own survival. But here, hundreds of hands and miles of ship would hold shares of her life, and she held a bit of theirs.

Before she had settled herself, she found herself and her crew in the Andromeda's command center, surrounded by men and women in impeccable uniforms… and one Tyr Anasazi, looking decidedly out of place amid this military precision. Nietzschean and human alike, they all had excellent posture. She looked around herself to see that Harper had disappeared. "Hey Dylan, do you know where my engineer ran off? I'd hate for him to miss this historic moment."

He shrugged. "He says he has a surprise. I thought you would know." He looked down at a small computer unit on his wrist and grimaced. "Andromeda is a stickler for punctuality."

A hologram shimmered into being beside Beka. "I think it will be worth the wait, Captain. Mr. Harper should be finished any minute now."

Just as the hologram disappeared, a quick step sounded through a nearby corridor, and a door whooshed open. "I didn't miss the ceremony, did I?"

No one was paying attention. Behind him, a young woman walked slowly, unsurely. Delicate hands smoothed a crisp uniform over a small frame, and an uncertain smile hovered at the edge of a full mouth.

"Andromeda?"

"Captain Hunt. Please, call me Rommie. It will prevent confusion with my other selves." She looked up through long eyelashes.

Beka looked over at Telemachus and saw disbelief cross his features. She bit her lips and tried not to giggle aloud. These two duty-mad officers were struck dumb by a pretty girl—an android, true, but you wouldn't know it to look at her. She didn't know what the old Commonwealth thought about captain/ship liaisons, but she thought it might suddenly became very relevant, judging by the shy looks Dylan and Andro… Rommie were exchanging.

She coughed. "Guys? Historic, ground-breaking ceremony?"

Dylan started. "Right. Right. Are you ready?"

"Been ready for a while now."

"Rommie?"

"Aye."

Dylan straightened himself and fished a flexi out of his pocket. He cleared his throat. "Have you had a chance to look over the terms of this document, Captain?"

She rolled her eyes. Cargo runners never talked like this. "I read it until my eyes crossed."

Dylan turned to Tyr, who had a disturbing ability to disappear entirely from one's consciousness despite his size. Beka almost jumped at noticing him so close.

"And you, Mr. Anasazi?"

"I could recite it from memory if you'd like."

"Good." He handed the flexi to Admiral Rhade.

The Nietzschean squared his shoulders. "Triumvir Marelena Taraches of the Systems Commonwealth—represented here by Admiral Telemachus Rhade—Captain Rebecca Valentine of the Eureka Maru, and First Regent Tyr Anasazi of the Nietzschean alliance have deemed it necessary to take into consideration the means of establishing an engagement of alliance and of rendering it useful to the safety and tranquility of the three parties.

"The respective parties have resolved to join their counsels and efforts against the enterprises of their common enemy, the Knights of Genetic Purity, and towards this intention they have, after the most mature deliberation, concluded and determined a formal treaty of alliance. The articles of the treaty shall be heretofore published in accordance with the Public Information Act of Systems Commonwealth except as they may pertain to matters of top security."

Beka had read a copy of this speech a few days ago and had needed the Andromeda to act as translator for her. Triumvir Taraches, Captain Valentine, and First Regent Anasazi had sat down one day over drinks and decided they should do something about those Genite bastards annoying the hell out of them and the rest of the Known Worlds. After months of threats, blackmail (okay, maybe not so much blackmail), and compromise, they had hammered out terms of alliance that none of them were completely happy with, but what could you do? Oh, and the Commonwealth had to publish it so the common folk wouldn't get too suspicious of the brass hats.

Rhade slipped a stylus from a pocket and signed the flexi, then passed it to Beka. She pretended to read it for a few moments before signing with a flourish. It wasn't everyday she signed one of these, after all. She passed it to Tyr and wondered suddenly how he felt about being named and signing last. As far as she recalled, Beka had been Johnny-come-lately to this party and should have been listed last. How had that not come up during their discussions?

She remembered what had stood out during the discussions: Tyr's choice of title for himself. Dylan and Telemachus had demanded to know why he was styling himself regent and for whom, but Tyr had refused to divulge that information. Beka didn't care if Dylan and Telemachus knew that she knew something; it had been bad enough to sit there and squirm while they glared holes in each other. Maybe that was why he'd been shoved to third place.

She wondered if his Nietzschean buddies would get on him for that, or if Nietzscheans were above caring about naming order. After their shocking display of solidarity in rallying behind Anasazi, she could almost believe it.

After the treaty had been circulated and signed, Telemachus took it and let a flicker of a smile cross his face. "Should any additional parties wish to enter into this alliance, the Systems Commonwealth especially extends an offer of alliance to all peoples against the tyranny of the Knights of Genetic Purity."

Beka rolled her eyes again. Should she voice a similar sentiment on behalf the Eureka Maru? No, she'd definitely screw that up. She kept her mouth shut and waited for this damn thing to be over so people would start speaking normally again.

"This treaty has entered into effect upon the signature of the three parties concerned. The precise time shall be noted in official records. Finally, the respective parties have agreed upon the ship known as Andromeda Ascendant, Shining Path to Truth and Knowledge as the flagship for this new alliance, with the permission of her Artificial Intelligence and Captain."

Dylan took the flexi and, after a moment's hesitation, passed it to Rommie. Her lips quirked in a startled smile, but she signed quickly and passed it back to her captain, who followed suit. The flexi found its way back to Telemachus, who nodded firmly and declared the alliance official. A silent beat passed.

"How was that for your first official duty, Rommie?" Of course Dylan would be the one to break the silence.

"But sir, this was hardly my first official function. We have engaged in hundreds of similar actions…" Her words died away. "Oh, you were talking to me." She stopped, confused and muttered something about pronouns. "To be honest, sir, I wasn't sure what name I should have used to sign the treaty."

Dylan chuckled. "I think that's our sign to break out the champagne."

A private or lieutenant or whatever she was appeared out of the crowd with a bottle and several more followed with crystal champagne flutes. One passed out the flutes and another, the champagne. Beka covered her glass when the bubbly drink was distributed and asked quietly for water. The young officer turned red and hurried off. She had to admit that it was a refreshing change from the guffawing laughter and outright disbelief she usually got when she refused alcohol. She thought she should get a tattoo or something to avoid these situations in the future.

The crew was finally starting to loosen up—all of them refugees from Tarazed, on a real High Guard ship for the first time in their lives and awestruck despite (or because of?) their training—when Andromeda relayed something to Dylan via his sub-vocal communicator. Beka saw him press a hand to his neck and murmur something, which she assumed to be some kind of silent transmission—that, or the captain was starting to crack.

He caught her eyes and jerked his head, indicating that she should follow. She noticed Telemachus follow suit, though he was much more subtle about the sub-vee communication than Dylan. Tyr looked at them curiously, and after a moment of obvious indecision, Telemachus nodded to him. Rommie broke off conversation with a young private (or lieutenant?) and joined them. They walked silently into an adjoining corridor, and when Beka thought it was safe, asked what was going on.

"We have uninvited guests," Rommie explained. Her voice was tight. "The Archduke and Archduchess of the combined Sabra-Jaguar Pride."

Beka made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat. "Nietzscheans?" She turned to Tyr. "No offense, Anasazi, because I know we're all on the same side here, but would it have been so difficult for ol' Pete Museveni to give Drago some manners?"

He ignored her. "I've gathered widely disparate reports of Charlemagne and Elsbett Bolivar. For a long while I believed Charlemagne a useless fop, a man who indulged in decadence and luxury to the point of ridicule. A few years ago, the two Prides arranged their marriage, and it was known in a very few circles that the First Daughter meant to kill her Jaguar groom on the wedding day. Most people dismissed it as rumor or believed that Elsbett would succeed and continue the war that had raged for years between the two Prides.

"They were both mistaken, and I'll admit this once that I had misjudged the situation. The wedding proceeded smoothly, and Charlemagne lived to the morning. I've tried to gather information as to how he survived the assassination attempt, and it seems that no one is privy to this knowledge, save the Archduke and Archduchess."

They had nearly arrived at the hangar where the Nietzschean ship had landed. "I'll be brief, Admiral, Captain. Do not underestimate this man. Do not take him on his word but don't dismiss him out of hand either."

Beka swallowed. Great. Another smart Nietzschean. Why couldn't they be dealing with the notoriously dense Drago-Kazov rank-and-file? They were something of a joke throughout the Known Worlds, and the little interaction Beka had experienced with them confirmed the jokes.

A door slid open, and there stood a tall, slender man with blond hair that had a strangely plastic sheen. Guards flanked him, but Beka saw no Archduchess. This Charlemagne was slimmer than either Telemachus or Tyr, but he was an attractive man in his own right. Why did Nietzscheans have the hottest men and the bizarre sex complexes?

She tried to look official, but it was hard under those roving eyes. If she didn't know better, she would swear he was checking her out and thoroughly. She wanted to burst out laughing and bit down on her inner lip.

"I hope you accept my wife's apologies, my good sirs… and madam. She is pregnant with our first child, a bonny boy with his mother's fire." He paused. "Honestly, this isn't the welcome I had envisioned. Are you this cold with all your allies, or is it just me? Either way," he said firmly, "it isn't a good way to go about making friends." To Beka's ears, he sounded amused and not at all angry, which was yet another surprise.

"Welcome? I'm afraid you weren't on our guest list," Dylan replied.

"Not on…?" Charlemagne gave an exaggerated sigh. "My aide-de-camp's fault, no doubt. I'll make sure he's properly shot." He rolled his eyes. "But that's no reason we should get off on the wrong foot, is it? Come, tell me all about this rebellion you're planning. I didn't believe the rumors until I heard that it was the Commonwealth which would be rising up against the Genites, and that's too ridiculous not to be true."

Dylan and Telemachus exchanged guarded looks. "That is a matter we should perhaps discuss at a later time," Telemachus finally replied. "Would you care to join us in the Observation Deck for the celebration of the signature of our treaty of alliance?" Telemachus was a soldier by trade, but as an admiral, he had to negotiate the murky waters of politics. "Forgive our abruptness, Archduke. I am Admiral Telemachus Rhade of the High Guard." He raised an arm, bent at the elbow, and Charlemagne returned the Nietzschean greeting.

Dylan looked awkward as he extended a hand. "Captain Dylan Hunt. Welcome aboard the Andromeda Ascendant." Rommie gave a short nod in the Archduke's direction, arms crossed and lips pursued.

Charlemagne took the initiative when it came Tyr's turn to introduce him. "You must be the notorious Tyr Anasazi of the Kodiak Pride." He extended an arm.

Tyr replied in kind. "First Regent, if we're resting on titles, Archduke."

Charlemagne gave him a quizzical smile but chose to ignore this oddity for the moment. "And this is the much-renowned Captain Valentine." His words conveyed nothing but respect, but his eyes were another matter. She thought he could tell her size to a nanometer by now.

"I see you're the highly-exaggerating Archduke Bolivar," she said with a laugh.

"Not at all." His voice was almost serious. "You've become quite an item of interest, my good Captain, among the more powerful Nietzschean prides… or what's left of them."

She snorted, but before she could reply, Dylan shot her a look and took over the conversation. With a shrug, she fell in behind and watched with great interest the flow of words and expressions between the human, android, and three Nietzscheans.

The walk back to Command lasted only a few minutes. Dylan invited Charlemagne to partake in the hospitality of his ship, but for her part, Rommie looked rather less than friendly. Beka heard Dylan order increased security around the new arrivals and saw Rommie smile tightly.

She had begun to drift back to her crew when a voice called her name over her shoulder. She turned and saw, to her great surprise, Charlemagne himself, bent low at the waist. "Would you honor me with a dance?"

She registered the shocked looks of her neighbors as she accepted. He straightened and offered his elbow, which she took tentatively. She leaned in. "I can't dance to save my life, Archduke, not to this." Slow notes from a full symphony floated through the Observation Deck.

He chuckled. "Then I shall make sure no one else discovers this flaw, Captain. Doubtless you've heard of the Jaguar proclivity for subterfuge."

They stayed near the walls and corners until Beka felt comfortable enough to venture out among the rest of the couples. Their conversation flowed without awkwardness, and Charlemagne showed no desire to spread his evening talking politics with the Commonwealth representatives. Beka commented on this with a laugh.

"It is so difficult for you to believe that I would rather pass the time with a lovely woman than with those stiff soldiers?" She smiled. 'Besides, in case you forgot, you are one of the founding signatories of this alliance, in theory equal with a Triumvir in that regard."

A circulating officer offered Charlemagne a flute of champagne, and behind the first officer, another dashed forward with a similar glass of water for Beka. The pair clinked glasses without a spoken toast. As her first sip of water slid down her throat, Beka heard a familiar voice near her asking if he could cut in. She wondered if a diplomatic incident was near at hand.

Telemachus Rhade stood at her side, eyes tight as he watched the archduke lift Beka's hand and kiss it before relinquishing her. She took a long sip from her glass, and when looked back down, the admiral had replaced the archduke as her dance partner. "I just learned this tonight," she warned, "so don't kick me out of the Holy Alliance if I step on your feet."

His return smile failed to convince Beka that he had heard a word she'd just said. She saw his nose wrinkle and wonder, blushing, if he was smelling Charlemagne on her. He danced well, but the archduke had correctly described him as 'stiff'.

"Is this the part where you debrief me after my contact with the unknown bogey?"

His eyes ceased their scanning of the room to glance at her. His hard features softened a little. "Do I need to debrief you, Captain?"

She shrugged. "It's possible that he gathered top secret information by his Nietzschean assessment of my body language as we discussed the relative merits of Artika and the Blind Emperors, but it's too late to do anything about that now." He stared. "They're rock groups, Telemachus. A little culture never hurt anyone, you know.

"Aside from my weakness for a certain indie folk group, Charlemagne didn't weasel anything classified out of me." She raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think I'm liable to crack and spill your darkest secrets after a few waltzes?"

He shook his head. "No, and I apologize if that was my impression. We're very surprised to see him, as you must have noticed, and anything that might help explain his presence here would be extremely welcome."

Her irritation subsided, and he let her go after the next song finished. She was making her careful way through the twirling couples and praying that she didn't trip over any of them when she received her third request for a dance that night. It was Tyr this time, probably searching for intelligence like Telemachus.

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

He smiled. "Our esteemed admiral debriefed you, did he? I assure you that is not my intention."

Tyr was a natural dancer, smoother than Telemachus and a firmer leader than Charlemagne. She tilted her head to one side. "Then what are you intentions, First Regent?"

"Advice. I don't doubt your ability to survive in the world you know, Captain, but you're entering a different world now. Entire planets and systems hang in the balance, and I've seen people stronger and smarter than you become lost in the mires."

They spun. Beka was sure she'd be an object of prime gossip tomorrow, waltzing with archdukes, admirals, and first regents alike. She realized with a jolt of her heart that she didn't know who would be spreading the gossip and who would be listening. "The world of politics, huh? Thanks for the thought, but what do you care about my survival in this big, bad, brave new world?"

He laughed. "Very astute, Captain. Very astute."