Chapter 23
The fastest way to succeed is to look as if you're playing by somebody else's rules, while quietly playing by your own.
- Michael Konda
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Rommie approached Command with her usual brisk pace. Nothing of her appearance showed anything but professionalism and attention to duty. On the inside, however, her emotions were a mess. She held it together because Beka needed her to and because, dang it, she was a warship! Warships didn't just fall apart! But the truth was, she felt broken. Her captain was missing, a prisoner of a psychotic nut-case, carried off who knew where to a Nietzschean prison. And her engineer was…was… There was no way around it; her engineer was dead.
Trance and she had tested the blood from Harper's clothes; it was definitely his. In desperation, Rommie had analyzed the flexi and image, wanting more than anything to find it had been faked, tampered with, touched up, anything! But it was all in vain. The image had passed every test and Rommie was forced to admit it was genuine, which left the only logical conclusion one she didn't like to make. While it was impossible to tell if Harper had been alive when the image was recorded, it didn't really matter in the end. She didn't need a brain the size of a planet to know that humans did not survive crucifixion, especially not fragile humans like Harper.
Harper was dead. Somehow, just processing that sentence hurt more than she thought was possible.
And somewhere out there in the universe there were some Nietzscheans who were seriously going to pay. No one touched her engineer, let alone did what that monster Felix had done to him. Felix might as well be a walking corpse, because he was already marked dead in her book; that is, if she could get to him before Beka, Trance, or Tyr.
Beka and Trance's responses to the image had been heart-wrenching but predictable. They were crushed, horrified, and enraged at the same time. Tyr's, however, had surprised her, and she decided she needed to study him closer; Rommie didn't like surprises. Tyr had taken one look at Harper hanging on that cross and a cold, hard rage had filled his eyes. He'd said nothing, but there was emotion on his face that for once he either couldn't or wouldn't hide. That alone spoke more than words his true feelings about this treatment of "The Little Professor," and Rommie knew she wasn't the only one plotting painful and humiliating ways to dispose of a certain red-headed Nietzschean scum.
But first, they needed to get Dylan back. Harper was already dead; Dylan still had a chance. Calloused as it might sound, the captain had to come before the revenge they were all aching for. Beka, acting captain officially now that they knew for certain Dylan was essentially a POW, had decided to try the legal route first. Rommie knew Beka's instincts were screaming at her to just take off and find Dylan, but she also knew Beka had a smart head on her shoulders and respected her restraint and judgment. Dylan could be anywhere in the Dragan's empire, an empire that stretched for galaxies and covered thousands of different worlds. They needed help, and both Rommie and Beka knew that. Plus, Beka had a responsibility and a promise to Dylan to keep; for him, they'd do this his way.
Which is why they were currently orbiting Tarazed, and Rommie was on her way to Command right now to speak to Tri-Jema with Beka via the comm.
The doors slid open before her and she strode purposefully inside. Trance and Tyr were there, but Beka had dismissed everyone else. This was a private conversation; no google-eyed cadets needed.
Rommie's ship-self appeared on the view screen. "Receiving transmission now, Beka."
"All right, here goes nothing," Beka muttered, unconsciously standing taller and running a hand through her hair. Andromeda flicked off the screen and was replaced by the image of the dark-haired Commonwealth leader.
"Captain Valentine," the woman said with a nod.
"Tri-Jema," Beka replied. "You know why we're here."
"Yes."
"Good. Then there's no reason to waste time sitting here talking. We need to mobilize the fleet, form a search party, as well as have you start negotiations with the Dragans to see if we can somehow talk them into giving Dylan back. Honestly, I think we should do our talking with smoking guns, but I know you political types like to try reasoning first, so the sooner you get started, the sooner we can go and find Dylan and kick some Nietzschean behind."
Rommie was quite pleased. For Beka, that was good diplomacy. The avatar could tell she was trying very hard to step up to her new role.
"I'm afraid that's not possible," Tri-Jema spoke calmly, lacing her fingers together on the desk in front of her.
"What do you mean that's not possible! You're in charge; just give the orders!"
"It's not quite that simple. There are more complex issues involved than you could possibly understand, but unfortunately, it boils down to one thing. The Commonwealth does not have the resources to launch a rescue for one man; not against the Drago-Kazov. We're on tenuous footing with them as it is. One small thing could set off an all out war, a war we can't afford right now with the Worldship on its way."
If looks could kill, Tri-Jema would have been dead four times over.
"I can't believe this!" Beka exclaimed. "This is Dylan Hunt we're talking about! The Captain Hunt! You know, the guy who restored the Commonwealth and all that! You wouldn't be here without him, and yet you're gonna leave him rotting in an Uber prison because it's inconvenient to deal with a few Neanderthals with bone-blades?"
"We aren't happy about this either and believe me, this decision wasn't made lightly, but you must realize there is more to this. Dylan would understand."
"Like heck Dylan would understand! Those monsters killed his engineer, my engineer! Tortured and killed him! Crucified him! Do you know what that looks like? They sent us a picture of him dying if you'd care to learn!" Beka paused for breath, gripping the console like it was the only thing keeping her upright. "And they still have Dylan, doing who knows what to him, because of some stupid top-secret mission you sent him on, and you're telling me I should just sit tight and be patient?"
"Actually, I'm not telling you, I'm ordering you. And as acting captain of the Andromeda, you're duty bound to obey that order. Dylan made provisions to assure you would assume command if something should happen to him, despite your unorthodox background. For now, we are willing to accept that, but fight this and that could change."
"Honesty amongst thieves, I see," Tyr muttered, clearly meaning to be heard. Tri-Jema frowned.
"Look, Captain Valentine, if the opportunity presents itself to get him out, we'll jump on it. Until then, Dylan will just have to work on freeing himself. He's a smart man; he's done it before, he can do it again. In the meantime, we offer our sincere condolences on the loss of your engineer, but these things happen, especially on special ops missions; a mission, I might add, he was never supposed to be on. Now, Dylan thought highly enough of you to give you command of his ship, use it wisely and toe the line! Tri-Jema out."
The image flickered off abruptly and silence reigned in Command, thick and heavy. Beka was fuming, Rommie and Tyr looked deadly, and Trance pale.
Beka finally swore quietly, breaking the silence.
"Well, that was a resounding success."
"How can they do that?" Trance cried. "After everything Dylan has done for them! Don't they realize how important it is to find him?"
"I don't think they care," Tyr spoke calmly. Everyone swiveled to look at him.
"What do you mean?" Beka asked.
"Think about it, Beka. Two months ago, the Commonwealth would have happily left Dylan and Harper stuck in prison for a murder they did not commit, with no investigation whatsoever. They sent him on this latest mission knowing how likely it was he would come back and didn't bat an eye…"
"Are you suggesting the Commonwealth orchestrated the whole thing?" Rommie growled, crossing her arms.
"Of course not. For one, I doubt they're that clever. I'm merely suggesting they took advantage of the opportunity to keep Dylan and his annoying morals out of the way."
"Why would they want him out of the way, though? He's the heart and the soul of this Commonwealth" Trance enquired, sounding much like the purple child she used to be.
"Because he's an annoyingly honest guy who refuses to give up on his dream," Beka answered for Tyr, sighing heavily. "What a mess…"
She closed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated and unsure. Then she stared at the empty view screen for a long time. Finally, she turned to her friends.
"Tyr, you have Command. I'll be on the Maru."
Rommie watched the blonde woman leave Command, her shoulders slumped dejectedly.
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Beka sat at the small table in the Maru's common room, a Sparky clutched in one hand. Truthfully, she hated the sickly-sweet stuff, but ever since she'd found out that Harper was…gone, she'd found herself drawn to them. It was a small way to keep her friend close, though it did nothing to fill the gaping hole in her heart.
More than anything, she wanted to just sit and cry. Her best friend and adopted brother was dead; killed in one of the most cruel and painful ways ever invented, and at the hands of the source of so many of his nightmares. She wanted – needed – time to mourn, but she didn't have it. Dylan, also her friend, was still missing and she also needed and wanted to get him back.
She didn't care what Tri-Jema and the Commonwealth said or ordered; there was no way she was leaving Dylan in the clutches of the Dragans. She was absolutely sure she didn't even have to ask to know Rommie, Trance, and Tyr were behind her one-hundred percent. But she also couldn't just rush off and save him. The Universe was an awful big place for only four people to search, even if one did have the power of "knowing things" and another a brain as big as a planet. Besides, it was more complicated than that. She'd promised Dylan she'd continue his dream and take care of his ship. She fully intended to go looking for the man, but she had to be careful. If she directly defied the Commonwealth right now, she could jeopardize everything Dylan had fought for. What was the good of saving him to bring him back to nothing?
Beka slumped on the stool and put her head in her arms. "Oh, Harper," she whispered. "What should I do? I failed you; what if I fail Dylan as well? What if I can't live up to what he saw in me? I'm just a freighter pilot with a rather loose interpretation of the law! What do I do?"
She stopped and looked around, but Harper didn't answer.
Harper wasn't there.
Holding back tears, Beka got to her feet and walked into the crew quarters, stopping by Harper's bunk. The clothes Felix had gloatingly returned to her lay folded on the blanket. After Trance and Rommie had finished their tests, Trance had lovingly cleaned them and gently given them to Beka, telling her she should keep them.
Impulsively, Beka reached out and traced the design on the green shirt. It had been one of Harper's favorites. She bought it for him to mark the anniversary of his first year in space and on her crew. She couldn't believe he still had it and had cared for it so carefully, but then again, Harper never threw anything away. He just couldn't; an Earth trait he couldn't shake.
Her fingers moved to the two small pins still attached near the collar. One showed Harper's honorary rank and title in the Commonwealth, similar to the one she now wore as well. The other was the medal for bravery Dylan had presented him with a short time ago. Oh how proud he'd been! Almost shy about it when he'd showed her! And he'd never taken it off. She doubted Dylan realized how much Harper looked up to him, and how proud he was to think the captain had trusted him with his precious medal.
At least that creep Felix had sent them back with the clothes. At least she still had that.
Her eyes strayed to Harper's pants and belt, the empty pockets and loops where his precious tools were kept making her sad. The belt loop where his…
"What the –?" she spoke without realizing it.
Purposefully, she turned the clothes over, searched all the pockets; nothing.
"That makes no sense. Why would Felix send it all back, even the boots and socks, but keep that? Why not the medals, or the nanowelder?"
Frantic, all thoughts of the Commonwealth or Tri-Jema's orders driven from her mind, Beka searched one last time, but she still came up empty. Harper's lucky rabbit's foot was missing, gone. In almost six years, she'd never seen the young man without it. It was probably one of only two things he had that he'd actually brought with him from Earth, and he never took it off. Heck, he even slept with it. So why was it missing now? It should be right there, on his belt loop! Harper would never have removed it!
Unless…
Unless…
Unless he was still alive! A still alive and breathing Harper would have done everything in his power to keep that treasure with him, even in an Uber prison.
Hope spiked through Beka like molten lava. She grabbed the clothes to her and sprinted for Command.
All three of her friends were still there, discussing their situation, when she burst in on them, breathing hard.
"Harper's not dead!" she shouted as they spun around in surprise. "He's not dead and I have proof and we're gonna get them back if I have to personally knock down every door on every planet in this universe, and the Commonwealth can just take their orders and shove it!"
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