Chapter 8 – Rachat is French for redemption. Ok folks, I've been away from this story for awhile now. I'd like to mention how similar the writing for Star Trek Voyager and Andromeda stories are. I've been working on a Voyager story, when I got the inspiration for this part, so please enjoy.

AN: Ok, this chapter doesn't really do anything. no big plot revelations or anything like that. But it did give me a change to show off Harper's martial arts skills [grin]. Well that and I bring back an old friend and the story will really pick up after this chapter.

==^== RachatDrift – The Past ==^==

They say that Rachatwas a drift where you could go and forget all your troubles, they said it's like an ocean, it has no memory.

Harper hoped with all of his heart that this were so, this was going to be his new home for awhile. At least until he found another job.

He couldn't go back to work for Sid, he had to strike out on his own, he couldn't rely on favors for the rest of his life.

With a sigh he stepped off the transport, his eyes scanning the beings around him. His left hand clutching the strap of his duffel all the tighter, his right hovering near the concealed knife at his side. Slowly he moved his right hand to pull the visor of his cap down over his eyes.

He began walking, no destination in mind, just getting the layout of the drift. He passed by several bars, hotels and a few less reputable businesses. Seeing a bar he liked the look of he made his way there.

This looked to be one of the more 'high-class' establishments, or so the sign with the words "Skyline Bar" claimed.

As he entered he realized this was exactly like any other bar, only with higher priced drinks. The crowd was exactly what you would expect in a bar near the docks. The local drunks, the transient bar hops flitting from bar to bar, and the people that sat in the shadows and watched.

Harper sat at the bar, waiting for the barkeeper to notice him.

"What'll it be?" the man asked after a few moments.

"Do you have Weisbru?" Harper asked.

"All kinds, what do you want."

"A bottle of your finest Neirubean," Harper replied as he slung his duffel across his back.

"Cash up front, that's expensive stuff,"

"How much?"

"20 thrones," the man replied.

Harper only nodded as he produced the exact amount the man wanted. Taking the thrones he replaced them with a bottle of beer.

"Want a glass?" he asked.

Harper only shook his head. While some people preferred to see their drinks, he was never one. He just needed to know it was there in front of him. Taking the bottle he placed the rim to his lips and let the malted liquor flow down his throat.

He replaced it on the bar with a sigh, it'd been too long since he had a good beer.

He was sitting, contemplating the beer in front of him when he became aware of a presence behind him, out of the corner of his eye he saw the bartender duck behind the bar. He knew this could only mean trouble.

He turned to see a gang 5 men, standing behind him, the largest and obviously the leader, grinning at him.

"You seem to have a lot of money," he said pointing at the Weisbru, "how 'bout buying us some drinks?"

"Sorry," Harper said, "only enough for this beer and passage off"

He lied, not needing them to know how much he had. He knew there was gonna be trouble and he was preparing for it.

Just remember Harper, don't kill them.

'Yeah thanks' he replied to his conscience.

"Well, I guess we'll have to take all your money then," the big man said as he reached for Harper.

Faster than the eye could see Harper had withdrawn his knife and severed the fingers approaching him. The man only looked on in horror as his fingers fell to the floor, the blood spurting out, covering Harper's shirt and the floor. Quickly he clutched the severed limbs to his body, trying to stop the flow of blood.

Didn't kill him, Harper thought, pointing out the obvious to his conscious.

The other four, seeing their leader disabled rushed Harper, who had by now sheathed his knife. He was gonna do this one on one.

He waited until the first man approached, ducking under his swing he delivered a sweeping kick to his forward leg, knocking him to the floor, with a roll Harper was on top of the man, delivering a punch to his solar plexus that robbed him of breath.

Turning his attention to the others he saw that one now had a knife while the others had broken bottles. Grinning, Harper took a defensive posture, waving them to attack him.

As the knife wielder approached Harper stared him straight in the eye. The man pulled his arm back to thrust the knife into Harper's stomach. Harper stepped across the man and grabbed his arm, placing it between his he quickly snapped the forearm, the man dropped the knife as Harper dug the heel of his palm into the man's face, sending him flying backwards.

The man he swept earlier was regaining his feet. Harper gave him a hand up by giving him a round house kick to the face, sending him flying into his fallen comrade.

This only left the bottle wielders, who finally got smart and rushed him at once.

Harper ducked under their swings, appearing behind them. with lightning fast speed he punched each in the kidney before taking their legs out from under them. as they struggled to rise he knocked their heads together, knocking them out.

Seeing no one left he turned back to the leader, he was still bleeding. Reaching behind the bar Harper grabbed a bar rag and began to bind the semi-unconscious man's wound. He'd lost a lot of blood.

"Call for a Doctor," he told the bartender as he stood to survey what little damage had been down. Harper had intentionally not broken any furniture, he didn't want to pay for it after all.

As he was binding the man's fingers, the drift security came in, guns drawn. Harper soon found himself being arrested and hauled away while the gang was taken to the hospital.

==

Harper sat with his back against the wall and one leg on the floor, his head hung down on his chest, he appeared to be sleeping.

"Hey, you! Wake up!" the guard called as he knocked on the bars with his baton. When Harper looked up he went on. "You got a visitor."

Harper watched as the cell door opened and a lawyer walked in.

"Mr. Harper? My name is Philips, I'm here to explain why you've been arrested."

"Let me guess," Harper began as he returned his head to his chest, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric. "The people I fought were part of a larger gang that's part of the underbelly of the drift. Either that or they were regular, paying customers and the bartender is pressing charges saying that I started the fight, what with me not being from around here and all."

He looked up and into the eyes of Mr. Philips.

"Which is it?" He asked when the lawyer was caught off guard by his stare.

"The latter actually, Security has been after these five for awhile now, but since the bartender claims you were the cause of the fight, we can't keep them. I hope you can understand Mr. Harper. If you're convicted of the accusations against you, you will be sentenced to five years in prison. It's my job to defend you and prevent that from happening, do you understand?"

Before Harper could answer the guard returned.

"Philips," he began addressing the lawyer, "you're services are no longer needed here. We had several witnesses come forward and say he was defending himself. We can keep the gang in custody now."

"Well, that's unexpected," Philips said as he rose and left the cell without so much as a nod to Harper.

"What about me?" Harper asked the guard as he stood.

"You? You've been released. Now get out of my jail."

=

As Harper left the jail, he slung his duffel across his back again. He figured it was about time he left this drift, at least before any more trouble could start.

With a sigh he mentally calculated all the places he could go, there were too many. Reluctantly he began walking towards the docks to find a ship. He was stopped when a voiced called to him from a dark alley.

"That was an impressive fight," the female voice said, Harper thought he recognized it but ignored it, she wouldn't be here. "I've never seen anyone fight with moves like that."

Harper just folded his arms across his chest, his eyes darting around him as he replied, hand inches from his knife.

"You've never heard of Kung Fu then."

"No, I haven't," she replied as she shook her head. Short blonde hair fading in and out of the light as she did so.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"A friend Harper, a friend," she said as she smilingly stepped from the shadows.

"Beka?" He asked in disbelief, for almost a year he had wondered what happened to her. Now here she stood in front of him.

=

As they sat in the small diner, Beka told him how she had been taking small jobs here and there, picking up more crewmembers as she went along. She was now up to 3; herself, Vex Peg, and a Wayist monk named Reverend Behemial Fartraveler, or Rev Bem for short.

"So what have you been up to this past year?" she asked as she sipped her coffee while he nursed a Sparky Cola.

"Oh, the usual, odd job here and there. Trading passage for engineering work. Nothing to write home about."

She only nodded as she idly stirred her coffee.

"You know I could use a good Engineer, our last one died in a bar fight ironically enough, still he wasn't as good and engineer as you were," she told him with a grin. "Know anyone who might be interested in the job?"

"I may know someone," he replied, answering her tease.

"Good, when can he start?"

"Right away, in fact the sooner the better. I made a few 'friends' today and would like to be far away from them."

"You know, I'm still impressed by those moves, where did you learn them?" She asked.

"On Earth, there was an old man that carried the tradition down for years, he lived in my slum. He taught me, shortly before he died. What I can't believe is that you just happened to be having a drink in that bar and saw the entire fight."

"Hey, I'm just glad justice was done. Couldn't have you rotting in a cell for 5 years, not with a talent like yours."

Harper only grinned as he downed his Sparky. Beka reached for the bill, but he beat her to it.

":Let me, Boss, it's the least I can do," he replied as he placed not only the full amount but a generous tip as well.

"Shall we go?" he asked as he presented her his arm.

She took it with a laugh before leading the way to the Maru.

"Welcome home Harper," she whispered in his ear as he stood looking up at the small freighter.

Home, he thought. The word was so foreign and yet so real. He had finally come full circle, he was back with Beka where he belonged.

As the ramp lowered he followed her into the ship. His instincts brought his straight to his bunk, fortunately no one had claimed it yet.

As he stowed his few belongings away, he could hear Beka telling the other crew about him. As he pulled himself onto the bunk he relished the thought that this ship truly was his home, and Beka was his family.

For the first time in over a year, he let a smile spread across his face as he lay back onto his bunk.

==^== End Chapter 8 ==^==

TBC Chapter9 – The Present.