The argument had worked on Tyr, and if it had convinced an eminently self-interested Nietzschean, it should have convinced others. What was more, they were on the side of Good, or at least the side of Better than the Genites and the Magog. But all their arguments got them was a load of shame-faced apologies from leaders of one world after another, admitting that while they liked them better, their chances of survival against the coming horror looked better with the Genites.
That wasn't to say that nobody signed onto their treaty of alliance in the storm that followed the release to the public of Andromeda's information regarding the upcoming Magog invasion. A surprising number of humans and human variants clamored to jump on the Commonwealth bandwagon, though perhaps understandable when one took into consideration Genite policy towards modified humans.
In the midst of the heightening tension, Beka couldn't help her amusement at the horror with which the Nietzscheans regarded their newest allies. If nothing else, Castalian incompetence might send the Magog into fatal bouts of laughter. During an especially frustrating training exercise, Beka said wryly to Tyr, "It's too bad you-know-who isn't here to witness this close cooperation between humans and Nietzscheans. I'm sure it would have an extremely positive impact on his formation for his unique career." This was communicated on a private channel, so Tyr spared her warnings to guard her words to glare at her darkly.
"If you have nothing productive to add, Captain Valentine, might I suggest we return our attention to the task in front of us? Your esteemed Admiral will doubtless be annoyed if the Castalians manage to miss every one of the enemy targets and finish by losing half their ships in the crossfire."
She laughed. "Fine. And Tyr, if one of your boys accidentally fires on Sachilde, I'll pretend I didn't see it. Just sayin'." With that, she closed the channel and opened another to begin berating the afore-mentioned Sachilde. Unless his sensors were down, all his communications malfunctioning, and he was suddenly struck with total blindness, he had no excuse for letting that last bogey past him.
Later she confronted Dylan with the sad military state of their most recent additions. In an interesting shift from the usual, Beka and Telemachus argued on one side against Dylan and Harper.
"C'mon boss, they just need to get used to…"
"What, everything? We don't have time to send them to boot camp."
"Captain," Dylan cut in, "I believe the Admiral and I were the only ones here who have attended boot camp. Most of our best fighters here have never seen the inside of a military school in their lives."
"I know. Hey, I didn't learn piloting from any fancy school. But most of those best fighters are Nietzscheans, as little as I like to admit it… no offense, Telemachus."
"None taken. In fact, I agree with you. For Nietzscheans, every day is a battle… what is it, Captain?" he asked when he saw Dylan shiver.
"Nothing. You just reminded me of another Rhade for a second there."
Harper took the brief pause that ensued to continue his defense of 'the little guy', as he termed the newest additions to the alliance. "What, you don't think that life on Earth wasn't a battle every day?"
"Harper, no one's saying that," Beka replied. "The newly-freed slave worlds are the only ones, actually, who've sent us any decent fighters."
"I hate to say this, Captain," Telemachus added, "but a few of our allies have fallen victim to the curse that ultimately led to the first Commonwealth's destruction… they've known peace for so long that they've neglected their militaries. I am far from a warmonger, but soon they will know more of war than they care to. Either we teach them, or the Magog will."
Dylan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So what would you two like to suggest? I can't kick them out and leave them to the tender mercies of the Genites and the Magog."
Beka was at a loss here; her purpose in speaking had been to convince Dylan of the urgency of the affair and leave the most command-minded crewmembers to hash out a solution. Telemachus, however, was both command-minded and possessed of a few ideas.
"You're not going to like this, any of you, and neither do I, but it's the only idea that seems both feasible and effective. I propose we stop coddling them with occasional exercises and let the Nietzschean Alliance completely take over their training."
Beka made a face but didn't add her objections to those of the rest of the assembled party. The protests were token, really, as no one had any better ideas – any ideas, period – and they all recognized the serious state of their allies. What made this prospect of delivering hapless humans into Nietzscheans hands even brighter was the certainty that she would be the one to deliver the news to the latter. Somehow, between performing favors for Nietzscheans and diplomatic missions to stop them from bolting, she had been appointed unofficial liaison to the allies invictus. So that made her FTA ambassador to the Nietzscheans? It made her head hurt to think about.
"What could possibly have made you believe that we would agree to babysit your ludicrous brethren?" Tyr thundered at her when she finished explaining Telemachus's idea.
Okay, so Tyr might have said that she understood Nietzscheans, but shouldn't the Admiral be here with – or ideally, instead of – her? She couldn't quote any handy passages from Nietzsche, Sun Tzu, or Machiavelli that might apply here. In fact, she couldn't quote any of the big three on much of anything. If this unofficial position of hers threatened to last much longer, she might actually have to read something easy-ish by one of them. Come to think of it, she'd heard the Prince was short, but doubtless Tyr wouldn't approve of a reading in anything but the original language, whatever dead Earth language that might be.
"I think it's a charming idea," Charlemagne said, to the surprise of his two companions. "Just think, the bumbling Castalians and the like transformed into hard, capable warriors worthy of the name."
Tyr looked skeptical. "That's a rosy picture you paint."
"Isn't it? And continue to imagine, if you please, how the rest of the Known Worlds will react to the transformation the first time the Genites provoke a scuffle, as they soon shall. If our rabble might defeat those infuriating kludges… my apologies, Captain."
"No problem. I won't need to worry about an 'Über' slipping out now."
"Indeed. As I was saying, such a transformation would open the minds of our potential allies to the possibility of other miracles, such as the long-delayed Commonwealth defeat of the Magog, with generous support from the Nietzschean Alliance."
That was what she should have said, dammit, and Charlemagne hadn't even needed to quote anyone. Tyr relented, and they spent the rest of the day working out the details of such an arrangement. Charlemagne may have been a bit optimistic in his scenario, but if the Nietzscheans could effect half that improvement, she would rejoice. She also thought with relief that it was to be Dylan who delivered the news to the rabble.
That night, a clandestine agent for the FTA was to dine with her and gauge the progress her allies were making in building themselves a force capable of repelling the Magog and keeping the Genites at bay. Her meeting with the Nietzscheans was long and as productive as any discussion between Nietzscheans could be, especially considering that these were two of the more intelligent and cooperative of the lot. Because of this, Beka jogged to her ship as soon as they wrapped up, but Tyr caught up with her and asked for a moment of her time. She resigned herself to being fashionably late to her dinner and wondered idly if the FTA was sending similar agents to the Genites.
To her very great surprise, he invited her to dinner and, though she would not have admitted it under torture, she genuinely regretted that she had to refuse. On the other hand, it was always a good thing, she reasoned, to be unavailable for a man's – particularly a Nietzschean man's – every whim. They fixed on the very next night for their… what? Beka could hardly believe Tyr thought of it as a date.
He left her when they concluded, and in an absurd twist of fate, she found Charlemagne waiting for her in the hangar. She began to wonder if her soap was imbibed with some sort of Nietzschean pheromone when he too asked her for the pleasure of her company over a meal, much more elegantly than Tyr had. Whereas she regretted refusing Tyr's invitation because she found she like the taciturn man and his spare, unpredictable conversation, she regretted refusing Charlemagne because she was exceedingly curious as to why he should invite her to dinner.
But Charlemagne was apparently a busier man than Tyr, or least had a fuller social calendar, and they couldn't immediately agree on a date for the raincheck. He reserved the right, he said, to look her up on his next free evening, and she replied truthfully that she could probably be free whenever he did so. Now that she was the Andromeda's XO, her evening plans rarely varied – either shifts in Command, strategic conferences, or a few hours dedicated solely to Beka Valentine.
She arrived on the pre-arranged drift just as her business date was ordering her drink, which meant that she had very recently arrived herself. She didn't offer to order Beka an alcoholic beverage but claimed that she'd heard great things about a spicy fruit beverage unique to the establishment. Obviously, the woman had done her homework, Beka thought with pleased surprise.
They made small talk for awhile and eventually fell into the 'what is a girl to do in the old boys' club' mode of conversation, which Beka had a weakness for now and again, and, as much as she liked Rommie and Trance, didn't think either would quite understand the feeling. The agent was a very easy talker, and Beka found herself talking about the Commonwealth, the Nietzschean Alliance, and their chances against the Genites and Magog hardly aware of doing so.
"They're an eyeful, aren't they?"
"The Nietzscheans. Yeah, you know it."
"Any interesting prospects?"
Beka recognized by now what the woman was doing but didn't care to stop her. A night spent gossiping was much preferable to an old-fashioned debriefing any day. "Interesting, yes, prospects, no. Don't get me wrong, I've thought about it, but they're all too caught up in their grand destiny and their cultural weirdness. A girl would have to be braver than me and have a lot more time on her hands to get involved in something like that." All true, strictly, but she did think on rare occasions that one or two of them might have held promise, had they known each other under different circumstances.
"Too true. And I hear Anasazi's saddled with a kid. Know anything about that?"
Don't show too much surprise, she'll know you're over-doing it. "A little." If the woman knew about Tamerlane at all, she must know his importance. "Kid's supposed to be… well, it isn't something I should be spreading around, but I think you get my drift. In any case, ultra top secret hideout. I doubt even the esteemed Triumvirs know where he is."
The agent seemed satisfied and changed the subject. The evening passed quickly, and Beka was sorry when they finished dessert and paid the bill, the FTA picking up the tab. It almost made her regret not having ordered an outrageously priced bottle of champagne, little matter that she wouldn't have enjoyed any. Beka wondered what the agent was going to say about her to her handler.
The Maru's old crew surprised her by appearing in the hangar soon after she landed. Trance thought they hadn't been spending enough time together lately and had planned pajama party for them in Beka's quarters. Beka laughed at that; her quarters were among the largest of the Andromeda, cleaner than Harper's, and less mysterious than Trance's or Rev's, both private people in their own ways. Rev apologized with a glint of humor in his eye for not owning a proper pair of pajamas. Harper protested that he slept in his underwear, and Beka replied while that he was free to cavort naked in his quarters if he so desired, he was keeping his clothes on whilst in hers.
Harper asked her how he date was, for that was all she'd told anyone about her appointment. She answered with a grin that Ms. Toliynda ben de Korschan, not her real name, had been very charming.
"A chick? A spy chick!"
"We're called 'ladies', Harper, and you're close. She determines whether or not it's worth it for the FTA to continue their tacit support of me and this whole deal."
They talked for hours, eating whatever Andromeda's autochef could come up with that held the least nutritional value, catching up and laughing at the oddities of their allies. When Harper asked how she liked being liaison to the Übers, she said that is going so well that they had both asked her out earlier that day. Usually she would have added that they were Nietzscheans, not Übers, but she remember Charlemagne's crack and kept silent. Harper in turn regaled them with tales of his work on Andromeda and failure to get anywhere with the female Tara Zed officers. Trance and Rev were also busy, spreading peace, love, and understand as well as contributing their unique talents – biology/medicine and linguistics/cultural studies respectively – to a crew of intelligent but hopelessly one-track minded personnel.
As they talked, Beka found herself sorry that they seemed to have drifted during their time on Andromeda and even before, when they had lived on Earth with the fledgling resistance. With a full crew compliment, four people inevitably got a little lost. She realized that she had missed them lately during her duties spent in serious discussion and near-arguments with Dylan, Telemachus, the distant Triumvirs, and the too-close Nietzscheans. Trance caught her eye for a moment and smiled like she knew exactly what Beka was thinking.
The next day, it was back to business as usual with the same people and even higher levels of tension than usual. Dylan wanted to issue a formal offer of détente to the Genites, an offer of temporary peace and cooperation against the Magog. One of the Triumvirs had arrived in person during the night, and, to everyone's surprise, she agreed with Dylan's idea. Tyr and Beka tried to take them out of this insanity, while Telemachus and Charlemagne mostly listened. Tyr was bitterly angry, comparing it to the original Commonwealth's compromise with monsters and threatening again to quit the alliance if this came to pass.
She felt - had always felt - a little lost among these people, politicians whatever else they might be and wielding heavy clout through the Known Worlds. She was just Beka Valentine, cargo runner, occasional smuggler, and involuntarily, if not unwillingly, liaison between three distinct groups because she had the rare knack of not pissing any of them off too much. Dylan had assured her that she was necessary, that no one else he knew could talk to people quite like she did, but at times like this, discussing intergalactic strategy, she felt a little out of her league. But, in true Valentine style, she showed none of her uncertainty and faced the challenge head-on. Ignatius Valentine would have been proud.
In the end, Dylan and the Triumvir had persuaded the rest of them that the olive branch couldn't hurt them and could only do them good – or at least convinced Tyr not to physically stop him from sending the message. It was accomplished that very day, and when Tyr and Beka left for their dinner, the former was still in a bad mood.
"Good Lord, you're cranky," she'd exclaimed in exasperation. "Maybe we should reschedule."
After such an open display of frustration, Tyr mellowed out until he was almost a pleasure to be around. He had asked her here, he said, to thank her for the services she had rendered for him despite the very great danger to herself and also to relax them both, which they obviously needed. They spent almost an hour in good spirits, and things got weird.
"So," she said, looking mischievous, "have you noticed love in the air lately?"
He set down his wine glass hard and looked… something between confused and resigned. "I was afraid of this," he began. "I told you, I wished merely to express my gratitude for what you've done, Beka and perhaps let us both relax from the past stressful months."
"What?" Then it hit her what he was saying. "What! No, Tyr, I… no. I meant Rommie. You haven't noticed how she looks at Dylan?"
Now he looked embarrassed, just as he should, and rather more relieved than Beka liked. "Oh. Well-"
"Hey, no need to look so overjoyed, buddy," Beka interrupted. "What, am I some kind of untouchable to you people?" Stay cool, Beka.
"Nothing of the kind, but it is rare that a Nietzschean becomes romantically involved with a human. His progeny would be outcasts and his family deeply shamed."
"So, love and a good roll in the hay mean nothing to Nietzscheans, then?"
"I… remind me, why are we discussing this?"
"You brought it up. 'Oh no Beka, please, the thought of becoming romantically involved with you makes me and my entire people sick to out stomachs'," she said mockingly.
"I do not appreciate you attributing opinions to me which I have never expressed. The thought of you in that manner does not make me sick to my stomach. Do you think I would have trusted him with you and returned to Andromeda after that debacle if you made me sick to my stomach?"
She scoffed. "I'm good at what I do, but hell, I can say the same about a lot of people who make my stomach turn."
"I do not understand why you insist on twisting my words, Beka, and prolonging this debate."
"Yeah, well, neither do I. All I know is that I'm pissed the hell off."
"I don't know what I can do to remedy your condition," he spat. "What would you like me to say? Not only are you good at what you do, you are intelligent, courageous, beautiful, and, when you're not arguing the finer points of Nietzschean philosophy, even pleasant company. If you were a Nietzschean or I were not…" Tyr's words seemed to catch up with him, and he looked just as surprised as she felt. They looked at each other, lost in an awkward silence.
Beka was shocked out of her anger, and her voice was uncertain when she spoke. "Okay, well, glad to get that out of the way, whatever it was."
Their conversation slowly defrosted, and they finally did relax, per Tyr's design. By the time they finished and Tyr paid, Beka could even venture a quip about how any human would have considered such a dinner paid for by the man a date.
"Except me, of course, because I understand Nietzscheans."
"If you'd feel better reimbursing me for your portion, I would not stand in your way."
She laughed. "Very funny. I hear you were paid more for one job than I made in a year. I was never one for principle anyway – much more of a pragmatist."
When Beka reflected later on the episode, she remembered that he had said that he'd been expecting this, her avowal of love or something. What an incredible ego that man possessed, and what exactly was that supposed to have meant, she wondered. She thought wryly that if he had run a thorough background check on her, he would have discovered that her taste in men was absolutely terrible, and did he really want to include himself in that category? Come to think of it, though, they did tend to dangerous and very attractive, not unlike Tyr.
Less than a month after he'd sent his offer, Dylan had his answer. They had begun to believe the Genites had written it off as hopeless and strategized accordingly. Finally, Rommie informed him one morning that a courier ship was requesting to board with an urgent message. He agreed immediately, and led Rommie, Beka, and Telemachus to the airlock. The last two unholstered weapons that Dylan eyed askance but did not comment on.
They met just coming out of his ship an extraordinarily fit young man who walked towards them with a quick stride. He looked altogether too clean-cut to be a courier to Beka, and it hit her that he held himself much like Dylan or Telemachus. What was more, couriers were usually content to stay in their ships, transmit their message, and leave as soon as possible because in that profession, time was money.
She powered up her gauss gun and aimed it at the man, and Telemachus was perhaps half a second behind her. Dylan wasn't fazed in the least to her great surprise and regarded them with mild curiosity. Rommie kept her eyes trained on the man.
"Who are you," Beka demanded, "and who are you working for? I've met a lot of couriers, and you don't look like any message boy I've ever seen."
The man flushed at being called a message boy, and Beka knew she was right despite his protests that he worked for Tri-Gal Communications.
"If I were you," Dylan said in a friendly voice, "I'd start telling the truth before she gets annoyed. She's been spending a lot of time around Nietzscheans lately and probably not in the best of moods."
It was an effort to keep her expression menacing; she wanted to laugh aloud. So it was going to be good cop/bad cop. Yeah, she could play the bad cop all right. She glared and brought her gun to eye level, aligning the man's head in her sights.
Dylan's voice remained pleasant when he continued. "I'm warning you. She'd be only too happy to take her anger out on somebody, and if she misses, the Admiral won't." He indicated Telemachus with a nod.
The man's face contorted in a sneer, and Beka's suspicion was confirmed. "If you don't start talking, Genite piece of crap, I'll shoot to disable and let the nastiest Nietzschean I know finish the job. Slowly." She began squeezing the trigger.
"Yes, you're right," he nearly shouted. "I'm here to deliver a message from the Patriarch himself on behalf of the Knights of Genetic Purity."
"Keep talking."
"I have coordinates on my ship where he wants to meet with you, Captain Hunt. He wants to talk."
For the first time during this exchange, Rommie spoke up. "And the forcelance in your coat is a gift to prove your good intentions, of course."
The soldier's head whipped around. "My- what?"
"I'm sorry, I neglected to introduce the ship's avatar, Rommie to her friends. You may call her Andromeda or ma'am."
Beka watched the soldier mentally run through his options. Obviously he had expected this to be easier. "It's for my personal protection," he said. "We weren't sure what kind of welcome to expect."
Dylan laughed. "We're the ones who extended the offer, remember?"
"It could have been a trap."
"Wrong answer," Beka broke in. "We thought you were a courier till I dragged it out of you. I know one guy whose entire family and mot of his Pride you people killed a few years back. I think I'll let him have you first."
"Okay, okay! My instructions were to assess the situation upon arrival and kill Captain Hunt if possible. After I delivered my message, my ship was to malfunction, so I'd have to stay on board for several hours and observe. If the opportunity were to present itself…"
"I see. Captain Valentine doesn't seem likely to part with her gun, so I'll ask Rommie to relieve you of your weapon and escort you to V-deck."
One of the man's hands flew to the high collar of his coat, and Beka shot him just above the knee, thinking he was reaching for his forcelance. He didn't even scream before crumpling to the floor.
Beka's eyes widened, and her gun arm fell to her side. "That wasn't me," she whispered.
Rommie approached the body and examined it for a minute. "He's dead, probably some kind of poison from the Genites." She squinted at nothing in particular, and then looked at Dylan in shock. "We'd better get out of here. The Genite's ship is set to self-destruct in ten seconds." She scooped up the corpse and flung it across her shoulder, and all four dashed into the nearest corridor.
"I'm expelling the contents of the airlock right now," she announced as soon as the hatch closed. "The ship's autodestruct have been programmed to his pulse or brain wave activity."
"Isn't the routine usually for the ship to blow up on his signal or as soon he dies, so they guy gives an incentive for us not to kill him?"
Rommie nodded. "That is the common method. I'll admit that I don't understand it, but it was obviously a strategy to prevent us from finding out what was on the ship rather than from saving the pilot's life."
Dylan stared at the sealed hatch. "I wonder if that was the message."
"What do you mean?"
"That this was all a test to see if we're worthy. They didn't really want to kill us, but they wanted to make sure that we would make negotiations worth their time," Telemachus said.
Dylan nodded. "Exactly. Rommie, could you search the body for a disc?" He looked at the corpse as the android dumped it on the deck. "I wonder if he even knew."
Beka didn't think this was the time to start pitying Genite assassins, but she held her tongue. The soldier had been pretty young, almost a kid. It gave her one more reason to hate the Genites, as if genocide and threats to personal security weren't enough.
