"Damn, Worf," K'Elyr said, reading a PADD as she and Worf walked along the mezzanine above the Promenade.

"What is that?" Worf asked.

"Oh, I had Andromeda transmit background on the Commonwealth; I started reading it while we there, but didn't get to finish. But get this: The Commonwealth - basically the Federation on steroids - collapsed three hundred years ago (although they're actually thousands of years ahead of us). Dylan comes out of being frozen in time and he and his crew started a new one - for real, I am not making that up - but now that one is a mess. Sounds like a job for a freelance diplomat; we missed one hell of an opportunity."

"Yes, but we are home now-" Worf broke off as he saw Dylan and Olma coming from the opposite direction.

"…greatest achievement?" Dylan was saying. "Oh, hello, Worf, K'Elyr."

"Captain," Worf said. "I would like to again thank you for your hospitality aboard your ship."

"You are welcome Mr. Worf." He shook himself. "Damn."

The two Klingons fell in step behind Olma and Dylan.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Dylan asked.

"Yes," Olma said. "You were saying?"

"Oh, yes, Harper's greatest achievement. Most people would say Rommie, but I think it was just keeping the *Andromeda* running."

"Yes, Beka said it was just him for a long time."

Dylan nodded. "The *Glorious Heritage* class was designed to have 426 engineers operating in three shift rotations, and a skeleton crew simply could not keep her running for any length of time. Yet Harper did it single-handedly for more than two years. Why all the interest in him? I've compared notes with Beka and Rhade, and you've given them slightly different stories."

"Yes," Worf mused as the group descended a spiral staircase to the Promenade's main level, "in feuds between Klingon Houses, the wife of the family's leader only takes such an interest if there is the possibility of resolving the conflict - or at least securing a truce - through … allowing a marriage."

Olma snapped a look over her shoulder. "Yes, Mr. Worf, prides also resolve disputes - or heal splits - through marriage."

"So-wait a minute-" Dylan stammered. "Are you saying-I mean, do you think-"

"It's a contingency I have to be prepared for," Olma said. "Your feud with Tyr is actually in a very early stage, so who knows? Besides, I'd have to find a female who'd be attracted to Seamus."

K'Elyr said, "Since when does the bride in a political marriage have to have feelings for the groom?"

"Since Nietzschean females always have the last word over whom they mate with," Olma said. "Only a family member could even think of ordering a female to marry someone she felt nothing for. No, it would have to be voluntary."

"Good luck finding a volunteer," Dylan lamented.

"You think I wouldn't, Dylan?"

"Harper isn't exactly lucky with the ladies, Olma. I don't know if it's me being around or what, but the poor guy doesn't get anywhere. It's pretty obvious that's part of the reason he fawns all over Andromeda and Rommie. But Harper can have his moments. When he lets himself, he can be a great guy. He deserves somebody." Dylan shrugged.

"That just makes it more challenging," Olma said. "Hypothetically, of course, if we couldn't find someone who already knew Harper, I could work up a psychological profile of someone who would go for him and go on from there."

"Seriously?" Dylan said.

"Yes," Olma said. "Half my job is making sure couples will actually go for it if the genetic screenings are ok. It's a lot more problematic than you think, especially in a pride where everyone has known their potential breeding partners since childhood. Personalities shouldn't enter into it, but it does. Which reminds me - Dylan, do you understand this 'friend zone' business? It's been a real problem in recent years. If I had a Throne for every time I heard, 'But I can't choose him; he's my best friend,' I could have bought off the Than Hegemony and snapped up the *Andromeda* with the spare change."

Dylan chuckled. "The *Andromeda* is not for sale, Olma."

"Captain Hunt, never underestimate the determination of a Nietzschean woman looking for a bargain." They had reached the entrance to the infirmary. Sisko, Beka, Trance, Tyr, Freya, Bashir, Guinan, Odo and Rhade were waiting. Tyr didn't have handcuffs on, but Rhade stayed at his elbow.

"Did someone say bargain?" Beka said. "Oooh, do I smell a shopping trip?"

"Shhhoooppppingggg," Freya said. She slapped Beka's shoulder. "You, me, Rommie, and Trance - The Four Bargain Hunters of the Apocalypse."

Beka couldn't not smile. "Sounds like fun."

Dylan said, "Let's get home first. Then see how things work out."

"Agreed," Tyr said, "I am looking forward to spending time in my quarters."

"Quarters?" Dylan said.

Tyr sagged. "I forgot. I no longer have quarters there, do I, Dylan?"

"No, Tyr, as a matter of fact, after you left, that's where Harper put the foosball table."

"What-" Tyr stammered. "You mean he finally unpacked it?"

"Yes," Dylan said.

"When was this?"

"About a week after you left. Yeah, he did it while we stopped a Ganglia Drift."

"I'd been looking forward to that, Dylan! Foosball was one of my favorite games as a boy. And you didn't think to mention this the last time I saw you?"

"What the-Tyr, you were trying to kill me!"

"So?"

"Oh, brother…"

Sisko chuckled, but his smile faded as he saw Major Kyra coming over to them. "Major?" he called. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine." Kyra turned to Beka. "Captain Valentine, Chief O'Brien's finished his work on your ship. Most of what he found looks like wear and tear, nothing your Mr. Harper can't handle. We topped off your fuel tanks and you're good to go."

Beka smiled. "Well, thank you, Major."

"Also…" Kyra took a deep breath. "I want to apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier. It was conduct unbecoming an officer and rude on a personal level. I have no business judging you. For that, I am sorry."

(Dylan and Sisko smiled.)

Beka smiled. "That's nice of you, Major, but I can't accept your apology."

"'Scuse me?"

"What I mean is, I should apologize to you. I admit, I've been picking a fight with you since this started, and I really shouldn't have done that. So please, accept *my* apology."

"No, no, Captain, no, you have nothing to apologize for. As your host, I should have behaved properly, and I didn't. So please, *you* accept *my* apology."

(Dylan and Sisko's smiles faded.)

"Look, I am going out of my way to be nice here," Beka said. "Can't you just be gracious and accept my apology?"

"I am one of the most gracious people I know!" Kyra shot back. (Dylan and Sisko looked like they were having migraines.) "As opposed to someone who was raised in barn."

"Then you'll be relieved to know I was raised on the *Maru.*"

"What, that slag heap? That explains it."

"What are you saying?"

"I think you know what I'm-"

"Ops to Sisko and Captain Hunt!" Dax's voice called from nearby wall monitor.

Sisko and Dylan managed not to look (too) relieved as they crossed to the monitor, everyone else bunching up behind them. Sisko said, "Go ahead."

The screen split, Dax on one side, Andromeda's screen image on the other.

Dax said, "Benjamin, some kind of distortion wave has left Bajor; it has the same energy signature as the Orb of Ages."

"And we are detecting the same wave," Andromeda said, "which is incongruous because it is approaching faster than the speed of light and we don't have the equipment to detect it. But it is expanding in all directions."

"Can you get to slipstream?" Dylan asked.

"We couldn't get far enough from the wormhole in time," Andromeda said, "and even then, I am having difficulty detecting slip points."

"And I'm having trouble raising the shields," Dax said. "There's a lot of subspace interference."

Dylan and Sisko asked, "Time to impact."

Dax and Andromeda chorused, "Seven seconds."

The group turned to face the mezzanine window just as they filled with orange light. Then it washed over the Promenade. Worf shook as a feeling of dizziness washed over him, then it passed….

…but then he felt mild pain in his back, and slightly weak. "What? I don't feel good."

"Strange," Tyr said. "I feel invigorate-" He broke off as he gawked at Worf. "What happened to you?"

Worf turned to the Nietzschean and saw him wearing a Starfleet uniform, with the same coloration and rank Worf had. "What happened to-" Worf started, just as he and Tyr saw their reflections in a nearby shop window. They stepped closer to it. Worf was wearing the red vest and black pants Tyr had sported.

"Mr. Anasazi," Sisko said. "Are you feeling all right?"

Tyr gawked at Sisko, and at the…the familiarity in Sisko's voice. "'Mr. Anasazi'?" he breathed.

"Doctor," Sisko said.

Bashir passed a medical scanner over Worf. "Worf's sutures seem to be holding," he said, "and he's not rejecting the synthetic blood I had to use-"

"Synthetic blood?" Worf stammered.

"Yes, when I operated on you to remove the bullet."

"What bullet!?"

Dylan said, "From when I shot you six months ago."

"Yeah," Beka said, "y'know, when you fed me to the abyss to save your own neck?"

"This must be another trick," growled a Klingon in their group, and Tyr realized that underneath the brow ridges and dark hair, he had the same face as Telamachus Rhade.

"Rhade?" Tyr said. "Is that you?"

"Rhoarde," the …. Klingonized Rhade corrected. "What concern of it is yours?" He glared at Worf. "Your attempt at a delay will not work. You will answer for how you have dishonored all Klingons by betraying the Commonwealth and Captain Hunt."

"*My* betrayal?" Worf stammered.

"No, Rhoarde," Dylan said, "I don't think this is a trick."

Tyr stepped closer to Dylan. "Dylan, your fiancee's name was Sarah Riley. She was the niece of your mentor, Admiral Stark. You were in the final stages planning your wedding when the Nietzscheans launched their offensive against the Commonwealth-"

"Nietzshceans?" Dylan stammered. "So wait, Nietzscheans and Romulans destroyed the Commonwealth?"

"'Romulans'?" Tyr said.

Worf said, "The Romulans are from here, too."

"So you were saying…" Dylan prompted.

"Yes," Tyr said. "You were lured into a trap at Hephaestus and betrayed by your Nietzschean first officer, Geheris Rhade. You and Andromeda were frozen in time on the edge of a black hole for three hundred years. Beka and her crew had been hired by a Nightsider named Gerentix - who, if memory serves, still owes Harper 84,000 Thrones - and I lead a team of mercenaries to deal with any High Guard leftovers. Our…relationship has had its complexities since them."

"'Complexities'?"

"We fought six months ago. You shot me while rescuing Beka from the Abyss' universe."

"I shot you, not Worf."

"Yes," Tyr said. "And strangely enough, I now miss having that bullet wound."

"You can have it," Worf said. He turned to Sisko. "Captain. Your wife was killed at the Battle of Wolf 359. Your sun is Jake. He aspires to be a writer. He is a friend of Nog, the nephew of Quark. You are revered by the Bajorans as the Emissary of The Prophets. You have chafed under that role, but have accepted it since a Bajoran from the past briefly accepted that mantle and tried to reactivate the Bajoran caste system."

Kyra stammered, "How can you know that?"

Beka's eyes flicked between Tyr and Worf, "Oh, crap, something…something..."

Kyra shook her head. "Not again."

"So stuff like this happens here, too?" Beka asked.

"Sometimes," Kyra said. "But when it does, I get a headache thinking about it."

"Oh, yeah, nail through the head."

"Yup."

"Ok," Dylan said, "I guess no one's going anywhere until we sort this out."