Rhade escorted Olma to the conference room, where Dylan, Beka, Harper and Trance didn't completely hide their skepticism.
"When Tyr contested with you over the Route of Ages," Olma said, "he realized there was a chance he would not survive. So he left messages behind for us. He addressed this one to you."
She tabbed a hand-held computer. Tyr's image appeared on the wall screen.
"Hello, Dylan," Tyr said pleasantly, as if betraying and leaving the *Andromeda* in the months before fighting his former shipmates to the death had had no more significance than meeting them for lunch. "If you are seeing this message, then you have won our latest altercation, and I am either dead, incapacitated, missing, or some other fate altogether, which is probably the most likely." His smile broadened. "Well done! My congratulations to you and whomever of the others have survived. But now you are facing the challenge of the Magog World Ship. I do not envy you this task. If Beka has not told you already, it is only months away, closer than we thought it would be by this time. If going to the Route of Ages has failed to stop it, it will now be up to you to find another way, and you do not need another problem at the same time. I am leaving instructions that my subordinates and allies are not to oppose you in this, and should even lend assistance if asked. As an added incentive, and a gesture of good will, I have instructed Olma to provide you with the location of the bones of Drago Mussevini." Tyr grinned. "It was never on Enge's Redoubt, did you know that? It wasn't even on *Andromeda!* The Dragon troopers stole a facsimile. I moved the genuine article a couple of years ago, when you and Beka were off after the Engine of Creation, and Harper had taken Rommie to a casino. The Ship doesn't remember that because I had her hide the memories of that journey in Harper's Adult Entertainment database, where she would not look too closely. You are probably wondering, 'Tyr, why are you giving me something I can use against you?'" Tyr counted on his fingers: "In the first place, no Nietzschean can be trusted with it, and no one knows that better than a Nietzschean." He paused. "Come on, Harper, say it."
Harper jumped. "All right, I agree with you! Rom Doll, is this really a recording?"
"Yes," Rommie said.
"That should have been long enough," Tyr said. "In the second place, Dylan, I know you will not use it gratuitously, and you will use it in such a way that my people would benefit from it. The welfare of the Nietzschean people is my greatest concern." Another pause. "Well, my one regret is I could not join you in this adventure. Best wishes to you. Fare well." The screen blanked.
"Well, yeah," Beka said, "you certainly followed Tyr's wishes to the letter, yes indeed. Let's see, Dylan on trial for treason, Commonwealth split down the middle, bounty hunters on our butts, yup, got it covered."
Olma didn't miss the dig but smiled away. "Pish has been difficult at best, recalcitrant at worst, and he does not always act in his own best interest. And as to his animosity towards you, Dylan, it took me this long to uncover the cause: He was close friends with Perseid Techincal Director Hohne."
"No way!" Harper said.
"Yes, 'way,'" Olma said. "They quarreled over the direction the Collectors should take and hadn't spoken in years, but from what I understand, Pish took it very hard when he learned Hohne had died here."
"Wonderful," Dylan groaned.
"Fortunately, the current chaos gave me some leverage," Olma said. "The fact is that you are not the only ones in the Commonwealth Pish antagonized. It should be obvious to anyone that weakening the Commonwealth, first by the Battle of Enge's Redoubt, and then the current civil war, is to no one's benefit in the face of the advancing Magog. Add to that the double-game the Collectors had been playing that was supposed to turn the tables on the Abyss but instead made things worse and you have a colossal mess that everyone blames Pish for. He's cost himself many allies; we're the only ones left who will talk to the man, and then, just barely. He can't turn to anyone else. It's allowed me to extract certain concessions."
"And we don't have to actually rescue Tyr," Beka said.
"He's probably lost forever," Olma said, "but if I report you gave it your best effort - especially if you don't get me killed during my visit - I may be able to smooth more ruffled feathers. I know that it doesn't sound like much, but it is better than the course you are on. And given that you did try to rescue Orca Pride, Dylan, I think I owe you something."
"I see," Dylan said. "Olma, could we have a moment to discuss this privately?"
"Certainly." The old matriarch left the room.
"Are we trying this?" Beka asked.
"First things first," Dylan said. "Rommie. Did Tyr really move the bones two years ago?"
"Accessing files." Rommie looked off at an angle, occasionally wincing. "Oh, yeah, Tyr hid it in the right place all right. Decompressing…Yes, although navigational and destination information are encrypted, along with anything else that could allow me to infer where we went. And even if we figured that out, we may still need information from Olma."
"Undoubtedly," Dylan said. "Tyr wouldn't make it that easy."
"So we're doing this," Beka said.
"We shouldn't," Rhade said. "Dylan it's as Tyr said: No Nietzschean can be trusted."
"Present company included?" Harper said.
Rhade ignored it. "Matriarchs do not just take on assignments like this. I guarantee she has an ulterior motive. I say no; we'd be better off taking our chances in the current standoff."
"No," Trance said. "Dylan, we have to do this. It's very important. The universe is at stake. Maybe two universes."
"Again," Beka groaned.
"Thank you for your input," Dylan said. "Now, please report to Command. I'll be along shortly."
"We're doing this," Beka sighed as she and the others got up to leave. But she held back as the others filed out of the room. When the door had closed, she turned back to her fellow captain and friend. "Dylan, can I have a minute?"
"Of course," Dylan said.
"You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened to Tyr."
"You think I'm blaming myself?"
"I know you are. You're asking yourself, 'Why didn't I see it coming? What could I have done to prevent it? How could I have missed it when it was right in front of me? Could I have handled the Route of Ages thing differently? Could I have found a way to save him?' Hey, it's perfectly understandable. But Dylan, some people can' be saved, not when it's from themselves. I learned that the hard way."
"I hear what you're saying, Beka, but Tyr was still an officer under my command. I was responsible for him, and to a certain extent, I still am."
"Maybe, but he made his choices, not you. Betraying us, leaving us, trying to kill us, those were his calls, not yours. He made his bed, and he has to lie in it…or die in it."
"Maybe. But maybe, even after all that, I'm not willing to give up on him just yet."
"Figured you'd say that, and I know I can't talk you out of this. I just…I just don't want you to be let down again. No one deserves that."
She turned to leave.
"Beka," Dylan said.
Beka paused on the threshold.
"Thanks for being a friend," he added.
Beka smiled. "No problem."
Out in the corridor, she found Olma waiting by a nearby intersection. "I thought I'd wait and join you following the others," the matriarch said. "I take it we're going?"
"Looks like it," Beka said as they started walking together.
"From what Tyr told me, he missed you and Master Harper the most."
"He should have thought of that before he left."
"Maybe he did."
Beka grunted and focused on the hall in front of her.
"He told me that Seamus was once solely responsible for the care of both the *Andromeda* and the *Maru,*" Olma went on. "I was a flight engineer when I was younger. I didn't believe it; I thought Tyr was pulling my leg. Was he?…Rebecca?"
"Huh?"
"Was Tyr pulling my leg about Harper taking care of both your ship and the *Andromeda?*"
"What? Oh, no, it was all him for, what, just about the first two-and-a-half years. Well, him and Andromeda together, but if you read between the lines, she credits him."
"Such as?"
"When they rebuilt Command after our run-in with the Magog World Ship. You'll see it when we get there. I hadn't seen it; I just knew Harper and Rommie wanted everyone out of Command for a few days. Had to fly the ship from the gunnery nose, which was not fun. So when they locked command, I thought, 'Oh, crap, Harper made a mess and taught Rommie how to cover for him.' Then Dylan saw it and he was speechless. Then Tyr saw it and he was even more incoherent."
"Really?" Olma smiled.
"Yeah," Beka chucked. "Then I saw it and my jaw practically scraped off the floor."
"Interesting. Does it run in his family? Being mechanically inclined, I mean."
"I don't know."
"What do you know about his family?"
"I think they're all dead. He had a cousin who lead a rebellion against the Drago-Kasov Pride, and he's probably gone."
"But Harper survived."
"I guess, if you can call that survival."
"Where did you meet him?"
"On Earth about seven years ago. My boyfriend…." Beka trailed off. "Wait a minute-what's going on?"
"Sorry?" Olma asked.
"All these questions about Harper."
"Oh, forgive me. Call it the curse of being a matriarch-you become a compulsive busybody who can't abide the sight of a male who has trouble attracting a mate. You're just not happy unless you get as many couples producing as many babies as possible."
"I don't think Harper's ready for kids."
"I think he'd be an excellent father. I have an instinct for these things."
"Yeah, but Harper's not a Nietzschean, Olma."
"True, Rebecca, but in a general sense, that's not the most important consideration. The drive to procreate is primordial regardless of whether one is born with built-in can openers, and you'd be surprised at the quality of females who might find him acceptable. Everyone has a match if they're willing to look for it. And if he's as talented as you imply, I'd hate to see that wasted because he didn't pass it on. That's just…that's just how a Nietzschean looks at it."
"And you're just being a Nietzschean busybody."
"Exactly. But you're right, Rebecca, enough about Harper. Let's talk about you. Why are you unmarried?"
"Um…"
"Have you not met any acceptable males?"
"Um…I think I'll run ahead and see if the guys need my help." Beka ran down the corridor.
"Thought so," Olma muttered as she continued at a more stately pace.