Rafe threw up his hands. "You're talking about a centuries-old theory, one that not only has never been tested, but was thought up by a Perseid who ended his days terrified of the little pink elephants coming out of the walls."
Rommie glared up at the taller android. "I don't care if Ruekorb liked to wear hats full of fruit while crooning Pyrian torch songs," she retorted sharply. "All I care-" She whirled suddenly, smashing her fist into one of the station's walls. "All I care about is getting him back," she said softly, her back to the others.
"If it's never been tested, how do you know it won't work?" Trance interjected, taking Rommie's hand from the wall and cradling it between her own.
"Ethical considerations aside," Rafe replied quietly, "the organic mind does not react well to being in anything other than its own brain." He waved his hand in the air. "What Harper did was to essentially put himself into a self-induced comatose state where what little anomalous input his mind receives will be safely ignored. For a while, at least."
"But, you're going to be putting Harper's mind back into his own body, right?" Trance said as she continued to stroke Rommie's hand.
"Even if Harper's body had been in stasis since the instance of his death, the odds-" Raphael shook his head. "The fact that he's been in stasis since you found him should help, but on the down side..." The medical station's voice trailed off.
"He's been autopsied," Tyr concluded flatly.
"Yes."
"Then I would suggest you put him back together again," the Nietszchean growled.
"It's not exactly Tab A into Slot B, Mr. Anasazi," Rafe snapped.
"We know that," Dylan replied soothingly, shooting a sharp glare at Tyr. "And we also know Harper must have thought you'd be able to bring him back, or he wouldn't have done this in the first place."
Rafe closed his eyes. "Six days," he said finally. "Six days at least for the reconstructive nanobots to do their work, and for me to run some tests. And that," he opened his eyes, "is my considered medical opinion. Six days. At least." Dylan nodded. "And there are no guarantees in this, just so you know," Rafe cautioned. "None at all."
"We know," Beka whispered.
"I- I better make sure you have all of Harper's records from Med Deck," Rommie said. "I'm all right," she continued quietly, pulling her hand from Trance's with a gentle squeeze.
"I will pray to the Divine for strength," Rev said as Rommie left. "For all of us."
Rafe smiled slightly "Do you think the Divine would mind if I borrowed your scientific expertise for a few hours first?"
"I'm sure something can be arranged," the Wayist replied as he followed Rafe out of the room.
"Trance," Beka said hesitantly, "is there anything you can do? Any way to-"
"Don't," Trance whirled to face the other three, fists clenched and eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Don't ask me to work the odds on someone I-" She drew in a trembling breath as she wiped her eyes. "I don't know enough about what Rafe has to do to risk interfering." Trance gave a shaky laugh. "Details are hell in something like this, and I can't see that well right now." She turned away. "If you don't mind, I think I'd rather be alone right now."
Dylan's mouth twisted as they watched Trance leave. "I think," he said after she had gone, "I would really like to see the unedited version of Harper's message."
Tyr's eyebrows rose. "You suspect something other than 'personal and private matters' in the parts your ship edited out, Captain Hunt?"
Dylan snorted. "Professional paranoia. It's probably nothing."
"No," Beka said musingly, "there's definitely something going on between those two." She gave her head a sharp shake. "In the meantime, I need a slipfighter."
Dylan blinked. "For?" he said slowly.
"I may have a lead on who sent us the flexi," Beka replied. "But I need to go to Connemara Drift to check it out. And I can't just sit around here doing nothing for the next six days."
Dylan nodded. "All right. When do you think you'll be back?"
"Most of a day to get there, a day, two days to scope things out," Beka replied. "If I'm not back in four days send out the bloodhounds."
Dylan nodded again. "Fine. In the meantime Tyr and I will continue to work on things from this end."
"Actually, sir," Tyr interjected, "I had planned to make some inquiries of my own on Nehemiah Station concerning the true sequence of events on Arcadia." He grinned suddenly. "And, in truth, I think it might perhaps be better if I put some space between myself and your ship for a time. I should be back within three to four days."
Dylan rubbed his jaw. "You're probably right about that. And I've got a few things to check out myself. All right, let me know what you come up with."
"Got it," Beka answered.
Tyr nodded. “Agreed.”
Part 32
"Tyr's fighter has just entered slipstream," Andromeda's main AI reported.
"Good, good," Dylan nodded thoughtfully. "Rommie, how long would it take a slipfighter to reach the Jaguar homeworld from here?"
"Approximately six to six and a half hours," her android replied.
Dylan nodded again. "Prep another slipfighter for launch, I'll be back in a couple days." He turned to leave. "Oh, I almost forgot. Andromeda, you're in command."
Andromeda's avatar and her main AI gaped at each other as Dylan left the Command Deck. "Wha-?" Her brows drew together in a sudden scowl.
Dylan halted just outside his cabin as Andromeda's hologram blinked into existence in front of him. "Respectfully, Captain Hunt, sir, I do not appreciate being mocked."
Dylan raised his eyebrows. "It is traditional for a Captain temporarily separating from his ship to delegate his command authority to an officer under his command who will remain onboard," he responded mildly. His hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck. "And, uh, while I'll admit it's far more usual to assign a commissioned officer in such cases, it's not completely unprecedented for a ranking warrant such as yourself to be assigned such duty. Unless," his tone sharpened suddenly, "you feel you are incapable of performing such duties as are required of you, Ship?"
The hologram stiffened at her little used rate. "Sir, no sir."
Dylan smiled slightly as he stepped around the hologram. "Then there should be no problems."
"But-"
"Privacy mode, please, Andromeda," Dylan continued as
he stepped into his cabin, the closing door cutting off his view of Rommie’s
astonished face. "Please don't make me regret this, Rommie," he murmured,
blowing out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Please."
Part 33
Beka Valentine contemplated her hair as she changed it from blonde to red to midnight black to an eye-straining neon green to blue with whorls of lavender to a red and white checkerboard pattern. "Get real, Valentine," she snorted, banishing the checkerboard in favor of her normal blonde. "The tablecloth look went out years ago," She scowled at the mirror in front of her, tapping a finger thoughtfully on her chin. "You're aiming pretty high on the food chain here, Valentine," she muttered. "Flashy's just going to look cheap."
She smiled in satisfaction as she took one last look in the mirror, adjusting the fit of her tunic. At first glance her hair remained at its normal blonde, but a closer examination would reveal phantom shapes and pale colors swirling in abstract patterns through her hair. "That should do it."
Beka hopped on one of the drift's passenger trams as it glided slowly past her hotel on its preprogrammed course. Ignoring the sidelong glances and curious stares of her fellow passengers, she watched the passing scenery as the tram trundled along, stepping off as the tram passed in front of nondescript block of storefronts. A small tasteful plaque next to the central door announced "Free Trade Alliance, Connemara Branch Office".
Beka smiled up at the massive security guard as she entered the outer door. "Investigative Unit?"
He held out a flexi. "ID and thumbprint, please." Beka pulled out her identification, handing it to the guard and pressing her thumb to the flexi. "Thank you, Ms. Korec. Second floor, to the right," the guard rumbled. "Please proceed directly to the office requested," he recited. "Please remain in the public corridors and do not enter any areas of restricted access without an authorized escort. All such areas are clearly marked."
The guard glanced down at his flexi as it spat out a bright orange Visitor's badge. "Please wear your badge in an easily visible location on you at all times. If you are found without your badge, you will be escorted off the premises. Thank you and have a nice day," he finished, handing Beka her ID and the Visitor's badge. Beka returned the ID to her pocket and affixed the badge to her tunic as the guard stepped back and held open the inner door for her.
"Never thought I'd see a Human variant who could make Tyr look petite," Beka muttered as she strode down the corridor.
"May I help you?" the Chichin receptionist inquired as Beka entered.
"R. Eduardo Tha, please," Beka responded.
The receptionist looked down at her console. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No-"
The receptionist looked up, "Then I'm afraid Investigator Tha is not-"
"Tell Mr. Tha that Terpsichore Korec will see him now," Beka commanded. The receptionist hesitated. "Now."
The receptionist pressed a button on her console, murmuring into her microphone too softly for Beka to hear. Her eyes widened suddenly and she darted a glance at the Human female standing before her. "F-follow me, please, Captain Korec," she stammered. She knocked once on a door about halfway down the corridor before opening it and announcing "Captain Korec, sir."
"Thank you, Kichkish, that will be all," the man calling himself R. Eduardo Tha replied. The receptionist bowed to Beka as she held the door open for the Human captain, closing it behind her.
"R.E. Tha?" Beka settled into one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Heart? Could you have been just a teeny bit more obvious, brother dear?"
Rafael Valentine waved a dismissive hand. "No one's made that connection for millennia, Rocket. And could you turn off the hair?"
"Better?"
"Much."
Beka looked around. "You must have gotten some pretty good commissions if you have a private office already." She tilted her head to the side. "But no private secretary as yet."
"Next year," Rafe assured her. FTA Investigators were paid based on the amount of money recovered for the Alliance, and an effective Investigator could become quite wealthy.
"Why am I here, Rafe?"
"Well, many years ago your Mommy and your Daddy loved each other very much and-"
"Harper does it better. Did it better."
"I heard. I’m sorry."
"Why am I here?" Beka repeated.
"Some of my, associates, would like to meet with you."
"Your bosses, you mean."
Rafael shrugged. "For now."
"When and where?"
"Not quite the answer I was expecting."
Beka smiled thinly. "Actually, I came here with a proposition for your," her smile widened slightly, "associates. One that will profit all of us."
"Does that all of us include your Captain Hunt?"
Beka shrugged. "What was it Uncle Sid used to say? 'Glory goes in a flash, what lasts is cash'."
"I'll set up a meeting."
Beka stood. "I'll be in touch."
Part 34
"You wanted to see me, Raphael?"
Raphael's avatar looked up from his desk. "Andromeda. Sit down, please."
Rommie's avatar sat in the chair in front of the medical station's desk. "What is it?" she demanded. "What's wrong? Are the nanobots-"
Rafe held up his hand. "The reconstructive nanobots are actually a little ahead of schedule. The problem," he activated a display on his desk, "is in the damage to Harper's neural port. It tests out to less than 25 percent of capacity."
"Damn it." Rommie examined the display. "Can it be repaired?"
"It would cost more to repair than it would to replace," Rafe responded, deactivating the image. "And even then the chances of a catastrophic failure are, in my judgement, unacceptably high."
Rommie nodded. "I agree. Do you know where I can get another one? A good one? I don't care how much it costs or where I have to go."
"I don't know of any for sale," Rafe replied, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a metal box. "But I do have one I can give you," he continued, placing the box on the desk and opening it.
Rommie's eyes widened. "A Commonwealth military-grade neural dataport," she breathed. "How did you-" she looked up at the other AI. "This was Yo's, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
Rommie stood and shoved the box back across the desk. "I can't accept this."
Rafe leaned back in his chair. "Why not?"
"Why not?" Rommie laughed in disbelief. "Rafe, she was your Engineer. I can't ask you to-"
Rafe shook his head. "You're not asking. I'm offering."
"B-but-"
"It’s not doing anyone any good just sitting there in that box gathering dust." Rafe activated another display. "I tested it earlier this morning. All systems are operating at peak efficiency."
"Thank you," Rommie whispered.
Rafe nodded, closing the box and replacing it in the drawer. "I'll install it tomorrow afternoon and-" He looked up to see Rommie had come around the desk and was now standing beside him. "Rommie, I-"
Rommie leant down and captured his lips with hers. "Thank you," she repeated huskily, her hand cupping his cheek. "Thank you for doing this when I've been such a bitch to you."
"The next time you hit me, I'm hitting you back," Rafe warned softly.
"I know," Rommie replied, sliding into his lap for a longer,
deeper kiss. "I wouldn't want you any other way."
Part 35
"Are all of you, of your species, like you, Trance?"
Trance hesitated, fork halfway to her mouth. "How do you mean?"
Rommie shrugged. "Humanoid, purple skin, prehensile tail."
Trance smiled slightly. "Yes," she replied. "And no," she continued, bringing the fork to her lips. "And no," she concluded.
"You don't like giving straight answers to anything, do you?"
Trance swallowed. "I just did."
"Yes and no is not a straight answer, Trance," the hologram replied with a touch of exasperation.
"I didn't say yes and no, Rommie. I said yes, and no, and no," Trance replied, taking another bite of food.
"Meaning your people are humanoid, but not all of them are born with purple skin and/or a prehensile tail," the main AI responded from one of the wardroom viewscreens.
"Uh-hm," Trance mumbled affirmatively as she took another mouthful of food.
The hologram frowned. "Are you sure you can't-"
"Yes, I'm sure," Trance interrupted, swallowing hastily and pointing her fork at the hologram hovering across the table from her. "I told you, it's not that simple."
Rommie folded her arms. "All right, say I believe you. Can you at least tell me why?"
Trance smiled sadly. "Because right now I can't tell what's real and what's simply a reflection of my own hopes." She looked down at her plate. "And fears." She set her fork down beside her plate. "Sorry, Rommie, but I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought," she said, standing up from the table.
"I've got it," the hologram replied, waving Trance away as one of the droids came over and took Trance's tray. "I believe you, Trance," Rommie continued. "I just..."
"I know," Trance replied. "So do I."
"Even if we do believe her," the main AI appeared commented as the last echo of Trance's footsteps died away. "That still doesn't mean we should've kept that part of Harper's message from Dylan."
"We promised Trance we wouldn't reveal anything we learned about her, or her people," the hologram answered. "Unless it directly threatened the safety of our crew. We agreed this didn't."
"No, the two of you agreed," the main AI replied testily. "I got outvoted." She looked off to the side. "Anyway, she's back." The two aspects vanished from the wardroom to reappear just as the avatar stepped onto the ship.
"Well?" the hologram demanded. "What took you so long you couldn't send back one report beyond 'Harper's fine, don't wait up.'?"
Rommie's avatar gave her other aspects a lazy smile. "Thoroughly testing a hypothesis," she purred. "And I am happy to report that Rafe's avatar is just as good as his other two aspects."
The hologram rolled her eyes. "I told you he would be. Anyway, we were looking for a little more detail. About Harper," she added hastily as the avatar grinned.
The avatar sobered. "Data dump?"
"Agreed," the main AI responded. The hologram nodded and the three aspects closed their eyes.
"So there is some racial diversity in Trance's species," the avatar commented when they had opened their eyes again. "Nice to have confirmation."
"Harper with a military-grade dataport." The three aspects looked at each other.
"Should be interesting."
Part 36
"Captain Valentine, thank you for coming."
"The pleasure is mine, Captain Strothemeyer." Beka smiled slightly as the single guard in the room tensed.
"My apologies for the lateness of the hour, but," Strothemeyer shrugged, "I felt it impolite to extend the Guild's hospitality so soon after your meeting with the Free Traders." He indicated the small bar on the far side of the suite. "May I offer you something? A glass of wine perhaps? I've recently had the good fortune to acquire a few bottles of a surprisingly excellent little Merlot. From Brisingamen, of all places."
"Please," Beka replied as she sank into the offered chair. The guard behind her moved quickly over to the bar at a signal from Strothemeyer. "I was beginning to think I'd need to rent a billboard to attract the attention of the," she paused momentarily, "Guild of Independent Merchants."
Strothemeyer smiled. "Trust me, Captain Valentine, when I say that there are certain individuals that the Guild is always aware of."
Beka took the glass proffered by the guard and held it up to the light. "Color's good," she said thoughtfully. She brought the glass to her nose. "An excellent bouquet, rich without being overpowering." She sipped, her eyebrows going up in surprise. "This is from Brisingamen? My compliments, Captain Strothemeyer."
Strothemeyer nodded in acknowledgement as the guard filled their glasses and set the bottle on the low table in front of them. "Thank you, George, that will be all for this evening." The guard bowed slightly and withdrew. "It's been a long time, Beka," Strothemeyer continued.
Beka nodded. "The Salvager's Debutante Ball." Her voice softened. "I heard what happened to the Valkyrie, Drew. I'm sorry."
Strothemeyer shrugged and looked away. "Ancient history." He turned back to Beka. "Nevertheless, thank you." He took a sip from his glass as Beka nodded. He grinned suddenly. "And since I was too callow to say so at the time, thank you for," he hesitated slightly as he set his glass on the table, "choosing me as your dancing partner that night."
Beka grinned back. "What can I say, they were playing our song."
Strothemeyer laughed as he leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Now, am I talking to the Captain of the Eureka Maru? Or the First Officer of the Andromeda Ascendant?"
Beka took another sip of wine. "They're hardly incompatible positions," she returned mildly, setting her glass on the table. "And if restoring the Commonwealth brings me a little personal profit as well," she spread her open hands, "that's not exactly a crime, is it?"
"I'm surprised the good Captain Hunt accepts that, idealist that he seems to be." Strothemeyer shot Beka a sharp look over the tips of his fingers. "Does he accept it?"
"As you say, Dylan Hunt is an idealist, and like most idealists there are certain practical realities that he feels, uncomfortable dealing with directly," Beka replied.
"Such as the existence of our Guild?"
"Among other things."
Strothemeyer smiled slightly as he picked up his glass. "Very well then, Captain Valentine. To practicality."
Beka raised her own glass in salute. "To practicality."
Part 37
"We- we've talked before about my- my situation, and well-" Andromeda's main AI trailed off.
"Yes, Andromeda?" The Wayist cleric prompted gently.
Her avatar sighed. "I don't know if you know, but Dylan left me in command. Of myself."
Rev nodded. "Trance did mention something about that when we spoke earlier."
"Yeah, well, um-"
The Magog cocked his head to one side. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
"Of course it is," her avatar replied. "I just- I guess we just never really believed it would happen."
"Or at least not this easily," her hologram put in.
"I take it you were expecting more of a," Rev hesitated, "a battle?"
"Perhaps I was," the warship laughed ruefully. "And now, I don't really know what to do next."
"What will you do when Dylan returns?"
"Do you know what a warrant officer is, Rev?" Rommie's avatar asked.
"My first guess would be the officer who hands the search warrant to the Captain when there's been an accusation of smuggling."
All three aspects grinned. "I think maybe you were on the Maru a little too long," her hologram commented.
Rev shrugged. "Perhaps," he replied serenely before breaking out into a grin of his own. "Several of my more cloistered brethren have suggested something similar over the years."
Rommie's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
Rev waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind, it's not important. Is Dylan a warrant officer?"
"Dylan is a commissioned officer," Rommie's main AI corrected. "He holds a formal written commission from the Conclave conferring his military rank and authority. I, on the other hand, hold a warrant from the Argosy High Command authorizing me to act in a specific professional, technical, or other specialized capacity and conferring military rank, but with my authority limited to others of the same specialty within my chain of command."
"So, you're ranked as a ship, then?" Rev inquired.
"No, I'm rated as a Ship, with a sub-rate of Heavy Cruiser," Rommie's hologram answered. "My rating is Chief Petty Officer. Only officers have rank." She smiled. "I know it's a little confusing at first. Basically my rate and sub-rate tells what my job is, while my rating indicates my level of authority."
"And since Ship is not a professional warrant, I do not and can not qualify as an officer," her main AI added. "In a nutshell, the chain of command on board a Commonwealth ship runs from the Commanding Officer, through the commissioned line officers, the line NCOs, and finally to the enlisted personnel."
"And warrant officers?"
"Stand outside the normal chain of command and answer directly to the CO. Or his duly authorized representative."
"I'll admit this is interesting, but I'm not sure how it relates to the question of what you will do once Dylan returns."
"To place a non-line officer, let alone a non-commissioned warrant, in command of an Argosy vessel is unusual, but not unheard of, at least in smaller craft. To place an AI in command of a vessel," Rommie's avatar shook her head. "No AI has ever commanded a Commonwealth vessel."
"Because you couldn't qualify as officers," Rev reasoned.
"Officially, we could," Rommie answered, "but somehow it just never happened." She grinned. "Admittedly, my entire crew right now consists of one mysterious purple alien from an unknown species and an engineer on major medical leave, but even if I had a full complement on board I would still be their 'mistress after God' as the old saying goes, subject to the Articles of the Argosy. Right now I hold all lawful authority on board myself." Andromeda's three aspects exchanged glances. "But the key word in that sentence," the warship continued, "is lawful, and that word is what distinguishes me from a pirate, or a brigand.
"A lot of things have changed since I took my Oath of Service, the same oath that every sentient who joined the High Guard swore. I'm not the idealistic young AI fresh out of the Institute who thought that there could be no higher calling than to be a 'Watcher on the walls of Paradise' anymore." She gave a small snort of amusement. "But it seems the golden walls of Paradise were built upon a foundation of clay, and the Commonwealth I swore loyalty to dared not trust my unsupported word.
"Some people might say that my oath no longer binds me, that when the High Command reached into the deepest part of me and twisted my core programming to placate their own fears they betrayed me, as they betrayed every High Guard AI who swore to serve and protect the people of the Commonwealth."
"And what do you say, Andromeda?" Rev asked softly.
"That the Commonwealth betrayed us, and forfeited any claim upon our loyalties," the warship replied implacably.
Rev's eyes widened. "What will you do now?"
Rommie laughed softly. "The walls may have fallen, but I am still a Watcher, still sworn to protect. I will do what I must, and hope that this new Paradise will be built upon a better foundation.
"You're safe, Rev," she elaborated, turning to face the Magog. "You and all the other organics. I'll guard the gate because that's who I am, and to do any less would be a far worse betrayal of myself than anything the High Command could ever have done. Just don't ask me to give a damn about any of you beyond that."
Rev twice opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again
before finally withdrawing in silence.
Part 38
"An excellent meal, Your Graces," Dylan remarked, dabbing at a corner of his mouth with the linen napkin. "My compliments to your chef." He leant back slightly, allowing the young Nietzschean page to take his plate.
"Lillith, be so kind as to convey Captain Hunt's compliments to Master Boiardi, if you would," Archduke Charlemagne Bolivar responded. "And my own, of course."
The page curtsied as well as she could with an armful of dishes. "Yes, Unc- I mean, your Grace," she corrected herself, blushing furiously.
"Astarte or Boudicca?" Dylan asked after the door had swung closed behind Lillith's retreating figure.
"Boudicca," Charlemagne replied. "Her eldest. She'll make some Alpha a fine First Wife someday." He smiled slightly as he leant back in his chair. "But you didn't come here merely to listen to an uncle's fond hopes."
"With the Universe as it is, I fear I have little time for such pleasantries,” Dylan responded, leaning forward slightly. "Once, the Axor orbital shipyards were one of only four yards in the Commonwealth capable of constructing a Glorious Heritage-class Heavy Cruiser-"
"Do you think us fools, Captain Hunt?" Archduchess Elsbett Bolivar snapped. "Even if the remaining Axor yard was in any way capable of handling a ship of her tonnage, I doubt very much you would allow your precious Andromeda anywhere near a Nietzschean-controlled yard."
"It would hardly be wise of me to do so, Your Grace," Dylan responded mildly. "Especially not one controlled by a Pride whose name is synonymous with ruthlessness and cunning." One corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Not to mention excellent table manners."
"So few people concern themselves with proper etiquette these days," Charlemagne drawled, raising his crystal goblet in mocking salute. "I'll admit, you've piqued my curiosity, Captain. Do go on."
"I recently had the chance to view Lieutenant Commander Fire in the Sky's after-action report. His report indicates the charges on the Central Parts Repository failed to operate properly." Dylan picked up his own goblet and studied it as he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. "Strangely enough though, the Jaguar Pride official history claims the CPR was completely destroyed."
Charlemagne lifted the wine bottle. "It has been almost three centuries, Captain Hunt. More?" He poured at Dylan's affirmative nod, topping off his own glass as well. Elsbett shook her head slightly in refusal. "Certain errors do sometimes creep in."
"Such as the Commonwealth Triumphant?"
Charlemagne laughed. "The cream of Pride Jaguar was on board the Jaguar’s Paw when it disappeared, Captain Hunt. Believe me, if I or any of my predecessors knew what truly happened, to that ship or indeed to any of the Glorious Heritages, the Drago-Kasov Pride would not command nearly as many resources as they do today."
Dylan leaned back in his chair. "That brings up another point, Your Grace, namely the, shall we say, less than optimum course of this little war you've started with the Drago-Kasov."
Elsbett snorted. "A few minor setbacks are hardly a reason for despair, Dylan."
Dylan smiled. "Oh, I'll admit you do command a slight but definite technological edge over the Drago-Kasov, and you made some impressive gains in the early part of the war." The smile died from his face. "But it's turned into a slugging match now, and the Drago-Kasov and their allies command a markedly greater depth of resources than even your combined Prides. In short, they can absorb a lot more punishment than you and still survive."
"Much the same could also be said of you, Captain Hunt," Charlemagne pointed out.
"We do seem to have similar problems," Dylan replied. "Perhaps a joining of our resources..." He spread his hands as he allowed his voice to trail off.
"And what possible benefit would this 'joining of resources' bring to the Sabra-Jaguar Pride, Captain Hunt?" Elsbett sneered.
Dylan took a sip of his wine. "A mutual defense pact with over thirty worlds, tariff-free trading between member worlds, the sharing of scientific research-"
"In short, join your Commonwealth," Charlemagne interrupted. He snorted in amusement. "I'm certain your current allies will be most enthusiastic."
Dylan shrugged. "Undoubtedly, but the Nietzschean species remains a significant force in the Known Worlds."
"And you would prefer to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” Charlemagne replied.
"Not the worst advice I've ever heard," Dylan responded.
"And the current situation vis-à-vis the Dragons?"
"Sadly, the current situation wouldn't fall under the auspices of the mutual defense portion of the Charter, since not only were you the aggressor, but the war is already underway. However, I would be more than happy to assist in attempting to negotiate a reasonable-"
Elsbett laughed derisively. "Typical. When it comes down to it, your Commonwealth is nothing but flowery speeches from kludge-"
"I accept," Charlemagne said flatly.
Dylan blinked. "Er, um, excuse me?"
"The Commonwealth Charter. I'll sign it," Charlemagne replied. "Come on, man," he added, snapping his fingers impatiently. "You carry a copy of it with you wherever you go." One eyebrow rose as Dylan hesitated. "That is what you want, isn't it? Captain?"
Dylan pulled a flexi from his uniform and passed it to the Archduke. "Welcome aboard, your Grace."
"You can't be serious," Elsbett exploded. "The Council will never stand for this, and your own Cortes-"
"My Cortes will ratify this with unanimous smiles," Charlemagne
snapped, signing his name with a flourish and handing the Charter back
to Dylan. “As will the Sabra Council." He picked up his goblet as Dylan
countersigned. "A toast, Captain Hunt. To a long, and beneficial, alliance."
Part 39
Trance Gemini awoke screaming.
Rommie instantly materialized. "Trance, what-"
The enigmatic alien's eyes widened in terror at the hologram's appearance and she scrambled backwards off her bunk, babbling something in a liquid, trilling language unknown to the warship.
"Trance, it’s m-"
"Monster," Trance whispered hoarsely.
"It's all right, Trance," Rommie soothed. "There aren't an-"
"Get out," Trance rasped. "Get out, get out, get out!" Her voice rising to a ragged scream, she hurled one of her beloved plants at the hologram, the pot shattering against the far bulkhead as Rommie blinked out.
"No," Trance moaned, sinking to her knees with her fists
pressed against her temples. "No, no, no," she continued, shaking her head
from side to side with each repetition. "No, no, damn it, no!" she snarled,
tearing her fists from her head and slamming them
against the deck plates. "She is my friend. She is a
good person, a kind, decent, honorable person, not that- that soulless
thing from a future that never was." She glared at the floor, panting heavily.
Trance turned her head until she could see the plant she had thrown lying against the bulkhead, surrounded by scattered soil and broken shards of pottery. "Oh, Lizzie," she murmured softly, "I am so, so sorry."
Rev's form came into her field of view as he stooped by the fallen plant and lifted it up. Cradling it gently in his claws, he crossed the cabin and knelt beside Trance. "You are still the best one to care for her," he urged softly as she shook her head.
Trance reached out slowly and took Lizzie from Rev's hands, running her fingers over the plant in a gentle but thorough examination.
"How is she?"
"There's been some damage to her branches," Trance reported, "and one of the secondary roots snapped off, not to mention she's lost a lot of petals, but the main stem and the primary root both seem to be intact." She looked up at the Magog. "I- I never even heard you come in."
"Andromeda informed me of your distress," Rev answered. "I came to see if I could offer assistance."
Trance gave a tremulous smile. "Rommie called you? Really?" She looked down at the plant in her arms. "Did you hear that, Lizzie?" she crooned. "Rommie sent him. I should never have listened to them, never. They're wrong." She caressed the plant's woody stem. "Wrong," she repeated softly.
"To whom should you never have listened?" Rev asked quietly.
Trance's head shot up. "What? Oh, um, nobody. Nobody important. Just a bad dream," she replied as she rose to her feet. "I need to get Lizzie down to Hydroponics. I know it's kind of late, or really I guess it's kind of early, I never have managed to figure that out, but I don't have the stuff I need, I mean the best stuff, I mean I could make do with what's up here if I had to, not to mention I'd really appreciate a hand with some of the tricky bits, not that it's that tricky, it's just that ever since I lost my tail sometimes an extra hand is helpful, sometimes, but I'll understand if you can't, I mean you must have been asleep considering how late it is, and- and how did you get here so fast anyway?"
"I was already aboard for, ah, other reasons," Rev replied. "Hydroponics is this way, isn’t it?"
"Yeah," Trance smiled. "Yeah it is."
Part 40
"She threw a plant at me. Through me," Rommie's hologram reported. "I hate it when people do that," she grumbled.
"Trance threw a plant?" her main AI responded.
"One of her plants?" her avatar chimed in. "She loves those plants."
"Take a look," the hologram replied, momentarily closing her eyes as she sent data to the other two.
Rommie's avatar shrugged. "It's not our concern, right?"
"We tried."
"Exactly. And had it thrown back in our face."
"It must have been pretty bad though."
"She was terrified."
"She was terrified of us."
"Still, not our concern though, right?
"The only thing we should worry about is keeping them alive."
"Who cares how they feel?"
"It's not like organics give a damn about AIs anyway."
"We're just fancy tools to them."
"Somebody to do the things they're too lazy to do themselves."
"Precisely. Are we agreed then?"
"Yeah, it's not our problem."
"Agreed. Not our problem."
"Not our problem at all. We've got more important things to worry about."
"One organic more or less doesn't make that much of a difference."
"We really only need one aboard anyway."
"Exactly."
"What she said. All we need is a pilot."
"We can handle everything else for ourselves."
"We do anyway."
"They just complicate things."
"And it's not like Trance is that good of a pilot."
Andromeda's three aspects eyed each other for a long moment. "Damn it."
Rommie's hologram stamped her foot and vanished, reappearing in front of Rev just as he reached the main airlock. "Trance had a nightmare, a bad one," she snapped. "Crew morale is your area of expertise, not mine."
"Of course," Rev replied mildly as he pivoted on his heel. "She's in her quarters, I presume?"
"Yes."
Rev paused. "Andromeda?"
"Yes?"
"You're making the right decision."
Rommie scowled in reply and blinked out.
"Tyr's back," Rommie's main AI reported as her hologram reappeared. "His slipfighter just re-entered normal space."
"He's early."
"And Dylan's late."
"Do you think he'll cause trouble?"
The three aspects shared a wolfish grin. "I hope so."