"Say what you will about the Commonwealth, they built some beautiful ships, ma'am," Samson Oriya commented as the golden form dwindled in Thistle's rearward viewscreen. "I just wish there was something more for her than being broken up for scrap."

"Her back's broken, Sam," Eleanor Kwakuitl responded sadly. "Even back when she was built, they couldn't have fixed her. Not after that." Kwakiutl held up the datacrystal she had taken from the outstretched hand of the ship's avatar as the slender android stood frozen and silent on the Bridge of her ship-self. "We still need to get this back to Enga's Redoubt, let the Intelligence weenies get a look at it."

"Aye, ma'am," Oriya responded. "Brace for Slipstream."

Behind them, sensors on the ship they had left reacted to the brief flare of light and energy that was the Thistle's departure, and a hoarded supply of fuel flowed to the engines. The ship groaned and trembled, the damaged keel threatening to separate completely as the long-disused engines fired, slowly nudging the ship from its stable orbit around the system's small reddish sun. On the Bridge, the ship's avatar slowly blinked once, twice.

"So. Nietzscheans."

Misaligned gears grated as the avatar turned her head to face the burnt-out viewscreen. "So it would seem. Does it matter?"

"Probably not," the ship's main AI responded. "It's been over three hundred years," she added a moment later. "They must know by now."

The android laughed bitterly as she limped forward to the grinding, screeching accompaniment of more misaligned gears. "They knew then. Hell, they probably knew before Antares was ever signed."

"I can't believe that," the main AI responded. "The corruption couldn't have run that deeply. Damn it, the Commonwealth stood for more than that."

"I wonder if that's what Rommie saw," the ship's hologram interrupted softly. "Why she- she changed like she did."

"Who knows?" the avatar responded. "She's gone now. Does it really matter one way or the other?"

"She was our sister," the hologram responded simply.

The avatar bowed her head as the system's sun swelled in the Command Deck's sole working viewscreen.

Part 82

Dylan paused in the doorway, watching as a ball seemed to roll down Rommie's arm, across her shoulders and up the avatar's other arm to her waiting hand. A flick of her wrist sent the ball sailing upwards in a perfect parabola as the android gracefully turned and extended her open hands, only to lunge forward with a startled curse as the ball dropped to the mat inches from her outstretched fingers. "Yes, Dylan?" Rommie asked, bending down to pick up the ball.

Dylan shook his head. "Nothing. I was just passing and um-" A quick glance at the box sitting by the door revealed a hoop, a length of knotted rope, a stick with a long ribbon attached, and what looked like a couple elongated versions of those things Refractions of Dawn used to try to knock over in that bowling game she liked so much. Vague memories of the Commonwealth Games, and of other, less exciting sports he'd skipped over to find the latest basketball scores, stirred in Dylan's mind. "I didn't know you played, er, performed-"

"I don't," Rommie answered. "Or rather, I'm really still learning." She shrugged. "I used to enjoy watching meets whenever I could, back before- before-"

"Before Hephaistos?"

Rommie smiled slightly. "Before I was Wiped. The me I was afterwards really wasn't interested in anything more than my duties as a warship."

"Ah." Dylan nodded towards the ball in Rommie's hands. "So, how does learning something like this work for you, do you have Harper program you with the proper-" Dylan's hands shot up to catch the ball Rommie threw at him.

"Do you have any idea how many calculations you just performed in order to catch that, Dylan?" Rommie asked. "AIs haven't been directly programmed to do specific tasks in the way you're suggesting for millennia. Even for a low-level AI like the Maru that's simply too limited a-"

"All hands, brace for slipstream," Beka's voice echoed. "Next stop: Sanctuary Station." Rommie glanced forwards, a look of apprehension crossing over her features as she and Dylan both swayed slightly with practiced, unconscious ease in reaction to the slight lurch that marked even a Master Pilot's entrance to the Slipstream.

"In any event," Rommie continued, walking over and taking the ball from Dylan as she spoke, automatically adjusting her gait to the slight pitching and yawing of her ship-self's decks as she hurtled through the twists and turns of slipstream space. "I have to learn things, Dylan, the same as you do. I can absorb and process information a- a lot faster than you can, analyze possibilities and predict outcomes with a far greater degree of accuracy, but in the end, the mechanism is basically the same. I have to learn," she repeated.

Dylan nodded towards the direction they were heading. "Is this- Seeing Rafe again, is that going to be a problem for you, Rommie?" he asked softly.

Rommie shook her head. "No, no it shouldn't. Rafe and I, that isn't what our relationship is about. I doubt he'll be surprised, at least not about Harper and I." She glanced forwards once again. "In any event, we tend not to have the same need for exclusivity from our partners that so many of you organics seem to." Rommie looked down at the ball in her hands, then back up at Dylan. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get some more practice in."
 
 

"That was beautiful," Rommie said as she leant in the doorway. "What is it?"

"Sunset Breeze Across the River's Variations on a Theme by Ellington," Raphael replied, lifting his hands from the keyboard and turning to face Rommie. "So, you and Harper," he said finally.

Rommie's mouth crooked in a small smile. "And Trance."

"And Trance?" Rafe repeated. "The three of you?" His eyebrows rose as Rommie nodded. "I have to admit, I didn't expect that."

Rommie straightened. "What did you expect?"

"He is your Engineer, Rommie."

"True," the warship conceded his point with a wave of her hand. "He is also my friend. As is Trance." Rafe bowed his head in acknowledgement. "You knew before I did, didn't you?" Rommie continued as she entered the room and sat beside him on the bench. "That Harper was my Engineer."

"I've been there," the medical station said simply.

Rommie nodded. "It terrifies me sometimes," she said softly, "this- these feelings. I-" Rommie looked down at her hands. "Dylan has been my Captain for almost five years now, and if I look, I can see the changes in him, the lines around his eyes that have gotten a little deeper, the occasional gray hairs that he plucks out as soon as he notices them, and I find myself looking at Harper, or at Trance, and thinking 'Don't change. Please, don't change' because that will mean we're one tiny step closer to- to their- to the day when they're gone, and I-" Rommie gave a shaky laugh as she wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said as she stood. "I don't know why I'm letting this bother me-"

"Would it surprise you to learn that there are times when I miss all of them?" Rafe interrupted softly. "Not just Yo, but all of them, organic and AI, whom I've been lucky enough to know and love for a time."

Rommie nodded as she sat back down. "When I first started re-integrating myself, the me from before my Reboot and the me from afterwards, I didn't know if I would be able to handle it, the pain and the grief and the horror, the knowledge that I hadn't been able to protect my crew. I prayed to a God I don't even believe in to return me to my blissful ignorance. But as I went deeper, I realized those weren't the only memories I'd lost. I'd lost the indescribable joy that bloomed on Lieutenant Kawkuitl's face when he learned his second wife, after five miscarriages, had safely given birth to a pair of healthy twins. I'd lost the way Major de Salle would unwind after a difficult mission by trading her Lancer's uniform and all the military formality it represented for her bedleh and the powerfully sinuous movements that are the ancient art of raqs sharqi. I'd lost the Tuesday night jam session, the poker game every Thursday that nobody, from the Captain on down, officially knew about, all of that, just, gone." Rommie bowed her head. "Their deaths were horrible, more horrible than I can ever describe," she said quietly. Her head rose. "But their lives, their lives were beautiful. I don't ever want to forget that. I don't ever want to forget them. Not again. Not ever again."

"Then don't," Rafe urged softly. "Remember them. Remember everything you shared with them, the joys, the sorrows, all of it. And when the time comes that your current crew is no longer with you, remember them as well."

Rommie closed her eyes. "That's not exactly something I'm looking forward to," she said softly. "But I can either live in fear of what is in the end, invevitable," she continued as she opened her eyes, "or I can live, and celebrate the lives around me, however long they may be." She turned to look at Rafe. "We don't really have any other choice, do we?" Rafe shook his head silently. "Play something for me," Rommie requested.

The warship closed her eyes, allowing the music to wash over her. "Thank you, my friend," she said quietly, once the piece had ended. Turning to Rafe, she leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "For everything," she whispered before turning and striding out the door.

Rommie walked back through the medical station's corridors to the dock that held her ship-self. Striding up the gangplank, she paused for a moment as her other selves appeared before her. She didn't have to explain what had happened, they'd been there, just as Rafe's other selves had been there as well while their avatars spoke for all. She didn't have to explain her next actions either, all three aspects in agreement as she moved through her corridors until she reached the cabin she now shared with Trance and Harper. Two figures looked up as she entered.

"Rommie, sweetie-"

"Rom-doll-"

Two slender fingers pressed against two sets of lips, causing them to still. "Make love to- No, make love with me."
 
 

Dylan woke to find himself floating in complete darkness. "Rommie?" Ingrained spacer's training ruthlessly supressed eons-old instincts, holding his limbs still despite the sensation of falling. "Rommie?" he repeated, first extending his arms in front of him, then out to either side, and finally, behind him. Dylan grunted softly as his questing fingertips felt the bedclothes behind him. Beneath him, he amended silently, now able to lay his entire hand flat on the bed. He waited until he felt himself settle onto the bed and the gravity return to its normal level before sitting up and ordering "Lights."

The lights came up at a rate designed to not unduly strain organic eyes as Dylan swung his legs out of bed. "What just happened, Rommie?"

"Power and gravity restored to normal levels," the warship's disembodied voice responded.

Dylan's eyes narrowed. "That isn't what I asked, Chief Petty Officer," he growled. "If we were being attacked, you wouldn't have been nearly so gentle. So I'm going to ask again. What happened?"

"Sir, you have my word that this will not happen again, sir."

"What happened, Rommie?"

"Sir-"

"What. Just. Happened. And I want to see you."

After a long moment, Rommie's main AI appeared on the viewscreen above Dylan's desk. "Sir, I don't think-" The warship sighed at the level look her Captain gave her. "Right. Um, well normally, while we're in flight or if we're in hostile territory one of me is always on duty, and certain, um, barriers, as it were, are erected between my on-duty self and my other selves, barriers that I, for various reasons, chose not to erect tonight."

Dylan blinked. "Er, where is your avatar?"

"In our cabin."

"Our. As in yours and Harper's and Trance's?"

"Yes, sir."

"Asleep?"

"Not exactly, sir."

"I see. And this, the lights, the gravity, that happened because you, um-"

"Yes, sir."

Dylan blinked again. "But how-"

"Sir!"

"Sorry, sorry, that's not what I meant," Dylan stammered as a wave of red rose over his face. "I just- I didn't think that you could- that a non-organic could, er, have an, um, you know."

"Dylan, the biggest sexual organ for any sentient, organic or non, is the mind. And I most certainly can have an, you know."

"Oh."

"Will there be anything else, Dylan?"

"Just one," Dylan replied. "The next time you feel like dropping your barriers, I expect to have a room reserved in my name at a decent hotel. Somewhere, anywhere that is not aboard you. If not, I will bust all three of you down to Assistant Apprentice Spacer. Am I being clear, Chief Petty Officer?"

"Aye-aye, sir. Hotel reservations, sir."

"Dismissed."

The AI saluted and vanished from the viewscreen, only to reappear again seconds later. "Dylan, I'm receiving a message from Rev. He's just entered the system, and he says he's accompanying someone who wants to meet with us."

"Who?"

"An ambassador. From the Magog."

Part 83

Archduke Charlemagne Bolivar turned at his wife's barely stifled gasp of pain. "Bett-"

Elsbett Bolivar waved away her husband's concern, giving him a smile that held more than a trace of a grimace in the curve of her lips. "It's nothing, Sharlie, really. Your progeny's just being a little rambunctious this morning."

"Oh is he now?"

"Yes, she is."

"All right, sprog, listen up," Charlemagne commanded as he knelt in front of his seated wife and laid his hands on her pregnancy-swollen belly.

"You are not calling our child by that ridiculous nickname," Elsbett protested.

"Woman, hush. This is a private, intimate moment of communion between father and sprog. Now just-" Charlemagne took one of his hands off her belly and waved it in a vague shooing motion.

Elsbett bowed her head. "As my husband commands."

Charlemagne snorted. "Right," he drawled, placing his hand back on Elsbett's stomach. "Now listen, little one, I know you want to be out here, bending the universe to your will like the genetically superior little Nietzschean you are. But you've still got to go through eleven more weeks in there before you can come out and impose your will on the cosmos, so why don't you just relax for a bit, make things a bit easier on your Mum for the duration, hmm? I promise, the universe will still be waiting for you once you come out."

"I think he heard you," Elsbett said softly, laying her hands atop her husband's. "He seems to be settling down." She leant forward, her lips meeting his in a soft, sweet kiss.

"He seems to be settling down?" Charlemagne murmured teasingly, once their lips had parted.

Elsbett stuck out her tongue. "She seems to be settling down. In any event, I agree, that cannot be the Andromeda," she continued, raising one hand to indicate the silvery form hovering before them. "And while," the Nietzschean woman grimaced, "Beka Valentine's claim of superior skills as a pilot are not entirely without merit, there is no ship in existence capable of crossing one entire galaxy and a significant portion of another in approximately," Elsbett peered at the timestamp on the holographic image, "seven seconds. Not even one of the legendary Heritages." She looked at the image again. "Are we even sure that that's a Glorious Heritage XMC? Mightn't it be one of that older class of XMCs, what were they called again? There have always been rumors that one or two of them survived the Battle of Witchhead, only to be captured afterwards."

"Shining Beacons," Charlemagne answered as he rose to his feet and returned to his contemplation of the image. "And that's all they are, rumors. Those few ships that did manage to survive Ivan Ashanti's original destruction of the Argosy's Ordinary and Ready Reserve Fleets were either destroyed at Witchhead or scuttled soon afterwards. No," he shook his head. "If any of the ususal suspects, the Dragons, the Bugs, anyone, had their hands on an XMC, they would have used it. They would be using it. And to answer your other question, yes, that is most definitely a Glorious Heritage-class XMC," he continued, touching a control on the console, bringing up a wireframe diagram and superimposing it over the image of the ship in question. "Not only were the Shining Beacon-class fourteen percent smaller than the Heritages, but also, you'll notice this curve here is noticeably sharper in the-"

Elsbett's sudden, sharp cry of pain interrupted Charlemagne's lecture and brought him to his knees in front of her. The archduke placed a finger under his wife's chin and lifted her head to reveal her tear-stained face. "Bett? Bett, what is it? What's-"

Elsbett raised a hand from her lap, her palm and fingertips lightly coated with blood. "Sharlie?" Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Sharlie, I-"

"Wordsworth!" Charlemagne shouted as he gathered Elsbett into his arms and stood.

The door opened, and an elderly retainer stepped through. "Yes, Your Gra-"

"Get a doctor, now," Charlemagne snapped, shouldering past him into the hallway. "Now, damn it!" Wordsworth pulled a communicator from his belt, speaking into it urgently as he followed Charlemagne down the hallway. "It'll be all right, Bett, you'll see," Charlemagne said soothingly. "You'll be fine, the baby'll be fine, everything will be just fine, you'll see."

"I'm sorry, Sharlie," Elsbett sobbed. "I am so, so sorry. I-"

"Everything will be just fine," Charlemagne repeated, swallowing heavily as tears glistened on his own cheeks. "You'll see, everything will be just fine."

Part 84

Harper rose on the balls of his feet, only to settle slowly back down on his heels in response to the glare Beka shot his way. "I don't get it, Boss. Somehow I just don't see Ol' Sparky wanting to talk to us."

Beka grimaced. "He's got a point, Dylan. I would have expected him to concentrate his efforts more on people like the Machenites, people who think they can bargain with him."

"The Spirit of the Abyss may not realize that we know about the Magog Worldship speeding up," Trance put in. "Maybe-"

Dylan shook his head. "If I were him, I'd expect us to be monitoring his progress as best we could."

"Repressurization complete," Rommie's hologram announced, her avatar nodding to Tyr as the two of them took up their positions as honor guards, positions that would allow them to cover almost all of the launching bay with intersecting fire, if necessary. Planetary Warfare 'Bot One's sensors glowed redly from its station on the far side of the hangar. "Opening inner bay doors." The others fell silent as the doors opened to reveal Rev's small ship.

The ship's hatch slid aside and Rev emerged, followed by Iblis. The crews' eyes widened at the sight of the massive Magog, Harper and Beka's hands going to where their weapons would normally hang without conscious thought. Harper took a step back as well, while Dylan's hand jerked before he could catch himself, and even Tyr swallowed heavily, his boneblades rising, although his weapon never wavered from its position. Rev bowed. "Captain Dylan Hunt, may I present Ambassador Iblis of the Magog Collective."

Dylan nodded. "Ambassador. I think we can dispense with the formal presentation of your credentials for the time being. If you would care to accompany me?"

"Of course, Captain," Iblis responded, tucking the flexi back into his jacket pocket and following Dylan into a nearby conference room.

Dylan took his place at one end of the table, with Beka and Tyr seating themselves to his right and left and Trance and Harper taking the chairs beside them. Rommie stood at parade rest against the wall behind Dylan's chair, her avatar and hologram flanking him to either side.

Rev hesitated as Iblis sat at the opposite end of the table. "Brother," Iblis spoke, indicating the seat to his right. Rev sat, glancing at Harper as he did so. The engineer looked back across the chair between them with an unreadable expression on his face.

"The Magog Collective," Dylan said musingly. "That's a name I haven't heard in, oh, about three centuries or so."

"You are not the only one looking to rebuild what once was, Captain Hunt."

"Why? Is Ol' Sparky going to be annoyed when he finds out the kiddies have been fighting amongst themselves?" Harper sneered.

"On the contrary, Mr. Harper," Iblis responded calmly. "Nothing would suit the Spirit of the Abyss, and his followers, more than disorganization in the ranks of those who would oppose him."

"Those who would oppose him?" Beka echoed. "I thought he was your Creator. Your God."

"Personally, Captain Valentine, I'm an atheist, as is much of the Collective," Iblis answered. "Although I respect those who have chosen a different path," he added with a nod towards Rev. "As for being the creator of our species, I believe Ms. Gemini can testify to the falsity of that particular claim."

Dylan's eyebrows rose. "Trance?"

"I don't know whether the Spirit of the Abyss is a god or not," Trance said slowly, "but what I do know, is that the Magog-" Trance swallowed heavily. "The Magog were created by the Masters, not the Abyss."

"The Masters?" Tyr rumbled.

"A sicker bunch of bastards you'd never hope to meet," Harper answered flatly. "I used to think no one deserved the kind of death you deal, not even the guards on the Vineyard," he continued, turning to face Iblis. "I was wrong."

"The Masters created over three dozen slave races," Trance said. "My people, and the Magog, are the only ones left."

"We were the Masters' attack dogs," Iblis stated, his eyes flicking to Rommie. "So, we attacked."

Dylan cleared his throat. "I believe you had a proposal for us, Ambassador?"

"Indeed," Iblis nodded. "We are not natural allies, Captain Hunt, and in other circumstances I would gladly feast upon your entrails. But we face a common enemy, one who would enslave and destroy us both."

"You're proposing an alliance," Tyr responded. "Against the Spirit of the Abyss."

Iblis nodded.

"Brandenburg Tor, on the tenth day of Seknet, CY9766," Rommie's hologram stated as the holographic recording of the Spirit of the Abyss flickered to life in the center of the table.

"I can see how things might appear, to someone not in full possession of the facts," Iblis replied. "But the Magog who attacked that day did so in spite of the Abyss' commands, not because of them. You're a soldier, Captain Hunt. Tell me, if you had an enemy, an enemy that was unaware of your very existence, would it make the slightest bit of sense, from a military standpoint, to send only a portion of your forces, a portion too small to have any possible hope of acheiving victory, in an attack that would do nothing but alert that enemy to your presence and allow him time to build up his defenses? The Abyss is no god, never believe he is," the Magog diplomat continued as he looked around the table. "In fact, it wouldn't surprise me at all to learn the Fall of the Commonwealth was as much of a surprise to him as it was to the rest of us." He pulled a datacrystal out of his pocket and placed it on the table. "This contains copies of numerous battle plans and briefing documents, copies my forefathers took when they fled the Abyss. The World-Ship was designed and built as a massive transport, capable of ferrying enough Magog, and enough ships and weapons, to take on an empire that spanned three galaxies. The attack upon the Commonwealth was meant to happen now, with the World-Ship acting as a command and supply base until enough of a beachhead could be established, and that was when you were supposed to learn of the existence of the Magog, not three centuries ago."

Rev picked up the datacrystal and handed it to Harper, who passed it to Tyr, who then handed it on to Rommie's avatar. Rommie closed her fingers around the datacrystal and closed her eyes. "Accessing. It does appear to contain the documents the ambassador described, Captain," she added a moment later, opening her eyes and her hand and placing the datacrystal in Dylan's hand.

"You've given us a lot to think about, Ambassador," Dylan remarked as he set the datacrystal on the table. "Do you mind if we study these for a bit?"

"That is why I brought it, Captain."

Dylan nodded. "Mr. Anasazi and Chief Ascendant will accompany you back to your ship, Ambassador. Thank you for your time, we will be in touch once we have discussed your proposal with our current allies."

"One thing I am curious about," Beka broke in as they all stood. "Why us? Why not go to one of the big guys, like the Than Hegemony or the Drago-Kasov Empire? Why come to us?"

"You've seen the World-Ship first hand, Captain Valentine, you know the danger it represents," Iblis responded. "Unlike the Nietzscheans, or even the Than to a lesser extent, you have a reputation for honest, straightforward dealing with everyone, including such notoriously slippery customers as Archduke Bolivar, that nonetheless manages to get you what you want more often than not. Finally, and most importantly," he continued, "you are the leaders of the fastest growing power in the Known Worlds." The Magog ambassador held up his hand. "I've read your Commonwealth Charter, Captain Hunt, I know what it says. I also know that whichever course is decided upon within this room, that is the direction in which your allies will go." Iblis bowed. "Captain Hunt, Captain Valentine, Mr. Anasazi, Ms. Gemini, Mr. Harper, Chief Ascendant, thank you for taking the time to hear me out. I, and my government, look forward to hearing from you soon." Iblis turned, pausing for a moment to allow Rev to join him as Rommie and Tyr took up their positions as escorts.

"Rev, just remember, hope is like fire," Trance spoke. "It can make a useful servant, but it is a terrible master."

"My eyes are open, Trance, I'm not about to leap blindly," Rev answered. "It has been good to see you again, my friends, even for so short a time. Until we meet again, may the blessings of the Divine be upon you all." The Wayist monk held up a hand in benediction before turning and accompanying his fellow Magog back to their ship.

Part 85

Dylan turned away from his contemplation of the stars beyond the glass as Tyr and Rommie entered the Obs Deck. "Rev and Ambassador Iblis have departed and taken up station off my port bow," the android reported. "And keep your boots off the furniture."

"I do know how to behave, Rommie," Harper responded, sounding slightly miffed as his leg altered its trajectory in mid-flight to wind up under the low table in front of the couch he had sprawled on.

Beka smirked at Harper as she leant back in her chair and crossed one ankle over the other. "That was an interesting little discussion," she said neutrally.

Dylan nodded. "To say the least."

"Oh no," Harper shook his head as he sat up, looking from Beka to Dylan and back again. "No, no, no. Tell me you are not seriously considering-"

"Harper," Trance interrupted, looking up from one of the plants she'd placed on the Obs Deck and shaking her head slightly.

Harper stared at her for a long moment. "Crap."

"Anything the two of you would care to share with the rest of the class?" Dylan asked evenly.

"Not really," Trance answered.

"Sorry," Harper smirked. "Need to know."

"Boy," Tyr growled.

"The Collective could be quite helpful in defeating the Abyss," Rommie put in. "We'd need to deal with them afterwards, of course," she added casually.

"And how, precisely, do you intend to 'deal with' the Magog, ship?"

"By eliminating them as a threat, of course."

Tyr snorted. "The only way to eliminate the threat a Magog poses is by elim..." Tyr's eyes widened as his voice trailed off.

"By eliminate," Beka spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen. "Do you mean- er, eliminate?"

Rommie nodded. "Yes."

"All of them?"

"All of them," Rommie confirmed.

Beka drew in a deep breath as Harper and Trance exchanged glances. "You're talking genocide here, Rommie. And what makes you think we'll be able to do anything like that when your precious Commonwealth was barely even able to fight the ones that are here now to a draw?"

"I'm talking about eliminating a threat, Beka," Rommie responded. "And this is something that all of the governments, the Hegemony, the various Prides, the Kalderan Commune, all of them, will need to be behind, not just the Commonwealth. As for the Commonwealth's original handling of the Magog threat, that was hobbled from the outset for political reasons," the warship snapped. "Hopefully you've learned better by now."

"The refugees wanted planets to return to, Rommie, not burnt-out cinders," Dylan said. "I'm well aware of the course you're advocating, but there are other options."

"The machine does have a point," Tyr observed. "As long as the Magog exist, they remain a threat. Unless, of course, you know of another way to eliminate the danger the Magog pose to the rest of the Universe?"

Dylan's mouth drew into a thin, straight line. "Somehow it doesn't surprise me that you would support such a course of action, Mr. Anasazi." His eyes swept over the others. "And the rest of you, where do you stand? Mr. Harper? Trance?"

Harper shrugged. "If it comes down to them or us, I know which way I'm voting."

"There are always choices, Dylan," Trance answered as she examined another group of plants. "And sometimes the ones that are best aren't always the ones we'd like," she added as she reached into the midst of the plants and pulled one out, roots and all. "I knew putting you in there with them was a mistake, Ethel. I'm sorry." she said sadly before placing the plant on the table beside her.

Dylan blinked. "Ah, right. Beka?"

"If you can find something, anything, I'll back you, you know that," Beka responded. "But right now, I just don't see any other options. I'm sorry."

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, to all of you," Dylan snapped. "As long as I am Captain of this ship genocide of anyone, even the Magog, is not an option. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," Tyr answered. "Captain."

Part 86

"Lieutenant-Commander Kwakuitl and Lieutenant Oriya reporting as ordered, sir."

Ares O'Higgins glanced up from the flexis littering his desk and returned Kwakuitl's salute. "At ease, the pair of you. I presume both of you are familiar with Captain Metternich as well?" He nodded towards the fireplace, and the two chairs flanking it to either side. Solomon Metternich sat in one, a flexi held casually in one hand as he nodded a greeting to the two junior officers. The other chair was turned away, its high back preventing Kwakuitl and Oriya from seeing anything of its occupant beyond one slender, feminine hand.

"I have not had the pleasure of the Captain's personal acquaintance, but I am familiar with some of his work, sir," Kwakuitl responded.

"As am I, sir," Oriya added.

O'Higgins nodded. "Good, that will make this easier. Lieutenant Oriya."

"Sir."

"You will assume temporary command of the corvette Thistle until such time as a new commanding officer may be appointed. If anyone should inquire as to the Commander's whereabouts you are to respond that she has been assigned to the Logistics Command Training Facility on Savrol Six, is that understood?"

"Savrol Six. Understood, sir."

O'Higgins nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant, that will be all."

"Aye-aye, sir." Oriya came to attention and saluted, then pivoted on his heel and marched out of the room, closing the door behind him.

O'Higgins turned to Metternich. "Captain?"

Metternich stood, the flexi still held in one hand. "Sir." He turned towards Kwakuitl. "The team sent to recover the Glorious Heritage found nothing at the coordinates you provided."

Kwakuitl blinked in surprise. "Is there- Is there any evidence of what may have happened to her, sir?"

"Are you certain you provided the correct coordinates, Commander?" O'Higgins interjected harshly.

"Absolutely, sir," Kwakuitl responded. She paused, then continued. "Sir, permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Is it my competence, or that of my crew, that is in question, sir? Or our veracity?"

The figure in the chair gave a brief laugh and raised her hand slightly.

"None of those, Commander," O'Higgins responded with a wry smile as Metternich offered Kwakuitl the flexi.

"She, the ship, went into the sun, sir?" Kwakuitl asked after viewing the flexi.

"So it would appear," Metternich responded. "How do you feel about that, Commander?"

"Sir, I-"

"A full, and honest, answer, child," the woman in the chair interrupted. "Not merely one you believe your superiors would prefer."

"Yes, Mad- Aye, ma'am," Kwakuitl responded, hastily correcting herself at the rise of a reproving finger. "I would have liked the chance to study her further but," the young officer took a deep breath, "if she couldn't go in battle, I'm glad she was at least able to go out on her own terms."

"You speak of it as though it were a person, Commander."

"Ships- Ships have personalities, ma'am." Kwakuitl answered slowly. "They have their own, quirks, if you will, things about them that are different from any other ship. I'm not sure if I can explain it any better than that, ma'am, but I can only imagine a ship with an AI would have its own, uh, quirks and uh, such."

"Spoken like a true spacer, Commander," the figure in the chair responded. "Admiral."

"That datacrystal you brought back made for some very interesting viewing, Commander," O'Higgins spoke as the large viewscreen opposite the fireplace came to life. He and Metternich watched Kwakuitl as the junior officer viewed the scenes unfolding onscreen, and when her disgust and horror became overwhelming Metternich calmly placed a trashcan in front of her while O'Higgins switched off the viewscreen.

Kwakuitl wiped her mouth with a shaking hand as she straightened. "Ma'am, sirs, I apologize for-"

"No officer, no person worthy of the name could see that and not react, Commander," O'Higgins responded sharply. "At least none that I would care to know."

"Sir, would you think any less of me if I said I wish our ancestors had been wrong? I mean yeah, I used to play Nietzscheans and Commonwealth, same as every kid does, but they were always, I mean, the Commonwealth were the bad guys sure, with their dastardly sneering cowardly High Guard lackeys, but they weren't really, I mean, they weren't evil, not like-" Kwakuitl closed her mouth with a snap as she realized she had been babbling. "Sorry ma'am, sirs." She straightened her shoulders. "W- why are you showing this to me, sir?"

"Dylan Hunt forwarded this image to the previous administration, along with an offer of alliance," O'Higgins replied as the viewscreen flared to life once more. "That offer was rejected."

"Are those- Are those worlds, sir?"

O'Higgins nodded. "And every single damn one of them is crawling with Magog."

"Drago's Bones," Kwakuitl whispered. "How can we- how could anybody-"

"We can't," O'Higgins interrupted flatly. "Not alone."

Kwakuitl's eyes widened. "You're- You're going to ally with Hunt, sir? With the Commonwealth? With the people who could- who could let that happen? Sir, I-"

"That will be all, Commander."

Kwakuitl snapped to attention. "Aye-aye, sir."

"Even before the Nietzschean revolution, there were rumors of such things, and accusations of a Government cover-up," Metternich remarked. "Most people dismissed them as the ramblings of the lunatic fringe, or as a thin legalistic veneer attempting to set the stage for a coup d'etat." The diplomat paused. "The Captain of the Heritage, in his introductory remarks to this, vowed to present it to the Conclave on Tarn Vedra, and to pursue any possible cover-up to the highest level. His name was Uxortus nax Risani."

"Risani, sir?" Kwakuitl asked. "As in Empress Risani XIV? Sucharitkul XII's successor?"

"The same," Metternich confirmed. "A copy was kept in the ship's database, and transferred to that datacrystal a century later, before the Glorious Heritage's AI shut itself off. Or mostly off," he added with a wry smile. "There's no record of what happened to Captain Uxortus or any of his surviving crew once they left the system."

"Sentients are rarely out and out villains, child, even sentients who wear the uniform of the High Guard. As for the Magog, they are only being true to their nature."

"Yes, ma'am, I know, I just..." Kwakuitl's voice trailed off.

"Captain Metternich has requested you be given Temporary Detached Duty under his command," O'Higgins spoke. "Do you feel capable of carrying out such duties as he may assign?"

Kwakuitl came to attention once more. "Yes, sir. Perfectly capable, sir."

O'Higgins scrawled his signature on a flexi and handed it to Kwakuitl. "Then consider yourself TDD to the Diplomatic Corps, Commander. Captain Metternich, will there be anything else?"

Metternich came to attention as well. "No, sir."

"Very well then, dismissed."

"Aye-aye, sir." As senior officer, Metternich saluted for both himself and Kwakuitl, and both officers turned to leave.

"If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to borrow the Commander for a few hours," Bradamante Inuit spoke as she stood, picking up a small package and turning towards the others.

"Of course, Madam Matriarch," Metternich replied.

"Walk with me, child," Inuit commanded.

"Yes, Madam Matriarch," Kwakuitl responded as she followed Inuit out of the room and down the corridor.

"I knew your grandmother when we were both young women, Commander," Inuit spoke once they had left the Alpha's Residence and were walking along the garden path that led to the Matriarch's Residence. "You resemble her very much at that age."

"I have been informed of that fact, Madam Matriarch," Kwakuitl replied.

Inuit sighed. "Clio's only crime was to tell a truth, to tell several truths, about our Pride that certain powerful people did not wish to hear. The Proscriptions placed upon your family by my predeccessor were... somewhat excessive."

"My family and I do appreciate your lifting of the Proscriptions upon us, Madam Matriarch."

Inuit nodded slightly in acknowledgement of Kwakuitl's words. "Take this, Commander," she said, handing Kwakuitl the package she carried. "Open it."

Kwakuitl opened the package to reveal an azure cloth trimmed with gold. "An Academician's Sash? Ma'am?"

"I'm authorizing you to act as my Deputy in this matter, Commander, and to ensure that this sash is presented to its rightful recipient."

Kwakuitl spoke slowly as she looked at the sash in her hands. "This individual, is aboard- will be aboard, the Andromeda Ascendant, ma'am?"

"Of course," Inuit replied. "There is another matter, concerning this particular individual, that I would also ask you to attend to for me," she continued as they came to the end of the garden path and entered the Matriarch's Residence, the heavy wooden door closing solidly behind them.

Part 87

"I don't believe this," Beka fumed as she stormed into Command, brandishing a flexi. "Do you know what just came in over the Maru's com? Listen to this: 'It has come to the attention of the Sanctuary Station Board of Directors that the armed merchant vessel Eureka Maru has on numerous occasions been in violation of Article 15 Subsection 7 Paragraph D of the Treaty of Establishment which states-"

"Which states that no armed, foreign-flagged vessel may legally remain within the boundaries of the Sanctuary System for longer than 24 hours total during any 72 hour time period," Dylan finished. "Andromeda received the same message, as did practically every other ship on the docks."

"Oh." Beka lowered the flexi. "But they haven't enforced that for years. Why now?"

"One of the treaty signatories complained," Rommie's main AI replied. "Rafe's under orders not to tell me which one, but I have my suspicions."

"I don't think it's the Sabra Council, not this time, Rommie," Dylan responded. "I don't see them wanting another complication on their borders right now."

"Speaking of, anything new on her Archduchesshipness' condition?" Beka asked.

"Officially she has chosen to recover in seclusion," Tyr answered.

"And unofficially?"

"A Nietzschean marriage is not considered valid unless there is issue," Rommie answered.

"You mean a child."

"Yes."

"This second miscarriage has emboldened many of those in the Jaguar Cortes who opposed the alliance with Sabra Pride to begin with," Tyr continued, "and they are now strongly recommending that Bolivar repudiate the marriage, and by extension the alliance."

Beka folded her arms. "And what's the Council's reaction to all this?"

"Several Council members have already pointed out that the Archduke has not yet fathered any children, an unusual situation for a Nietzschean male of his age and rank," Tyr answered blandly. "And while none of the Council members have as of yet called upon the Archduchess to disavow the marriage, several have begun, or rather, resumed referring to her as Elsbett Mossaddim."

"Ouch," Beka grimaced. "If Charlemagne admits he's the reason they can't have a kid, he'll be kissing his Alphaship goodbye, won't he?"

"A sterile Alpha is a contradiction in terms."

"More importantly, while Sabra-Jaguar Pride is a signatory to the Charter, neither Sabra nor Jaguar Pride is," Dylan added.

"And the other Prides we've got like the Mandau are just a bunch of two-bit nobodies," Beka said. "How many worlds are we likely to lose if the Sabra-Jags split?"

Dylan sighed. "I'm hoping no more than ten or twelve at most."

Tyr smiled wryly. "I believe I've warned you before about the dangers of excessive optimism, Captain Hunt."

"So if it isn't Sabra Pride, then who is it?" Beka asked. "And why now?"

"Tyr is of the opinion that we, or more specifically the Andromeda, is the intended target," Dylan answered. "I'm inclined to agree. Most of the other ships that dock here are independent freighters, like the Maru. There's no reason to single any of them out."

"It could be nothing more than what it seems, and one of the signatories is worried about Sanctuary becoming a target." Rommie's avatar commented as she walked into Command, Harper and Trance at her heels.

Beka frowned. "In that case I think they'd want us around."

"A ship's home port is just as much a legitimate target as the ship itself," Dylan responded. "In some ways even more so."

"We've docked here more often, and for a longer period of time, than anywhere else, Beka," Rommie said. "The argument could be made that Sanctuary Station has become my home port."

"And therefore, a target," Beka concluded.

"I'm a warship," Rommie responded. "It's my job to be the target. Not a bunch of civilians."

"If you are the target," Beka said thoughtfully.

"You disagree, Captain Valentine?" Tyr rumbled.

"People from all over the Known Worlds come to Sanctuary," Beka mused, "some of them having spent every last credit they have just to get here."

Dylan folded his arms. "A lot of that money goes to those freighter captains out there."

"Yeah, but if they charge too much Rafe and the Board'll take away their docking privileges," Harper put in. "But that only works because Sanctuary is independent, and if any of the neighbors try muscling in the rest of the 'hood'll gang up on them, just to keep from being shut out."

"When Sabra Pride acquired the Sojun system they agreed to be bound by the terms of the Treaty," Tyr remarked. "As did the Sabra-Jaguar when the Prides merged."

Trance frowned. "I thought we said it wasn't them."

"They're not the only heavyweights in this sector," Beka answered. "Rommie, can you bring up a chart showing Sanctuary and the surrounding systems, and the systems around them?"

"Looks to me like the Sabra-Jags are the only big cheeses around here," Harper remarked once the holographic chart had come up.

"Not quite," Dylan replied, indicating a small patch of emerald green at the very edge of the chart. "What system is this, Rommie?"

"Jel'ludin," Rommie answered. "Some years ago the Jel'ludin government requested aid from the Hegemony in suppressing a rebellion. The Than sent a battle group in and crushed the rebellion in a matter of months. That battle group is still there."

"The new Overdiamond is rumored to be much more ambitious than it's predecessor," Tyr commented. "Acquiring control of the Sanctuary slipstream nexus would do much to further that ambition. I doubt if either the Nadiyvians or the Chimikoans would be able to resist a Than capital fleet vectoring through their territory."

Beka snorted. "Seventy percent of Nadiyva's GDP comes from exports to the Hegemony, and the numbers for Chimoko aren't much lower. They're not even going to bother asking how high until they're already up in the air. Not to mention that Rafe himself is quite the valuable prize, all by his lonesome."

"The Overdiamond's ambitious, but she's also quite protective of the Hegemony's reputation," Dylan replied. "The only reason we got their assistance at Gashleycrumb is because we asked for their help in eliminating a threat to the surrounding systems."

"Such as a warship basing itself out of a hospital," Harper responded. "Man, I hate it when the bad guys use our-"

"Dylan, an FTA fast courier just emerged from slipstream," Rommie's main AI interrupted. "He's carrying a pair of Priority One-Alpha, Eyes Only messages, one for you and one for Beka."

Dylan's eyebrows rose. A Priority One message was never transmitted, even over a secure channel, but always hand-delivered by one of the FTA's top couriers. A Priority-One Alpha message went only to heads of governments, CEOs of large corporations, and the top echelon of FTA-licensed captains. "You'd better let Sanctuary know we're leaving, Rommie."

Rommie's main AI looked off to the side. "Umbilicals retracted, releasing docking clamps," she announced as a series of muffled thuds echoed through her corridors. "Ship aweigh, Captain. Time to intercept approximately fourteen minutes at full power."

"Let's bring it."
 
 
 

Fifteen minutes later, the FTA courier was striding down his ship's boarding ramp onto Andromeda's Hangar Deck. "Captain Rebecca Valentine?"

Beka stepped forward, handing her ID to the courier and placing her hand on the proffered datapad. "Rebecca Valentine, License Number One Six Nine Zero Whiskey Tango Yankee Juliet Charlie Seven Zero One Five. Confirm."

"Identity confirmed, Captain Valentine," the datapad responded. "Message destruction device de-activated. Message release approved. Have a nice day and thank you for using FTA Courier Services." Beka removed her hand and accepted the cylindrical message capsule and her ID from the courier.

"Captain Dylan Hunt?" Dylan nodded and stepped forward. "Voice identification is through your military identification number," the courier continued, holding out the datapad once more.

Dylan placed his hand on the datapad and recited, "Dylan Obadiah Hunt, Identification Number Seven Zero Five Charlie Romeo Break Papa November Two Break Six Zero One Five Niner Niner Break Break Zulu Five Five Bravo Zulu Break. Confirm."

The datapad hummed to itself for a moment, then finally pronounced Dylan's voiceprint and DNA scan acceptable. The courier handed over the message capsule and pivoted on his heel, marching back up the boarding ramp and into his ship.

"FTA Courier Vessel Swiftsure requests permission for departure," Rommie's disembodied voice spoke.

"Vessel cleared for departure," Beka answered absently as she turned the capsule over in her hands.

"Vessel cleared for departure aye. Pressurizing launch bay. All personnel to designated safe areas."

"My office, ten minutes."

"Sounds good," Beka replied as she turned to head for the Maru, then paused. "Obadiah?"

"It's a family name," Dylan growled.
 
 

Ten minutes later, Beka and Dylan sat in Dylan's office with Level Bravo Privacy Mode engaged. "I wanted you to see this before any of the others," Dylan said grimly as a hologram of Ares O'Higgins, Alpha of the Drago-Kasov Pride, flickered to life between them.

"Captain Hunt." The hologram turned slightly, its rudimentary AI noting Beka's presence as well. "Captain Valentine."

"Admiral. Would you mind repeating your message for Captain Valentine?"

O'Higgins' hologram flickered and dissolved to be replaced by a holographic image of the Magog Worldship. "My predecessor believed the threat from this vessel could be easily contained by our forces. I do not. Furthermore, a Drago-Kasov vessel discovered these further images aboard a damaged High Guard vessel." The hologram flickered again, resolving into a new image. "We have a common enemy, Captains. It behooves us to make common cause against him."

Beka swallowed heavily, her hands white-knuckled on the arms of her chair. "No," she breathed, shaking her head. "No."

"Yes, Captain Valentine," O'Higgins replied as his image replaced the horrific scenes. "Sentient beings: Nietzscheans, Humans, Perseids, Than, all reduced to the level of cattle for their Magog masters. Reduced to this." The hologram shimmered once more, replacing O'Higgins' image with the image of a Nietzschean male recognizable only by the shorn-off remnants of his bone blades, the normal Nietzschean arrogance and sense of superiority gone from his face to be replaced by a dumb, animalistic apathy. "That was three hundred years ago, Captain. I can't imagine, I don't want to imagine, what their descendants must be like."

"End message," Dylan spoke. Beka said nothing as Dylan rose from his chair and placed the message capsule in his safe.

"Do we believe them?" Beka rasped once Dylan had retaken his seat.

"They say they're prepared to offer proof, to hand over the original datacrystal they recovered for our examination."

"If this is true-"

"If this is true then we have no choice, do we, Beka? I have no choice. Magog delenda est," Dylan whispered. "The Magog must be destroyed."

Part 88

"Rom-doll, answer a question for me, would you please?

"What is it, Harper?"

"Out of the three of us, I mean you, me, and Trance, out of us three, which one of us is most likely to be capable of bench-pressing a Buick?"

"I take it that's a rhetorical question?"

"So could you pretty please explain to me, why I'm the one stuck carrying all the bags?"

"Because Trance and I are shopping."

"You know, when I go clothes shopping it takes me fifteen, maybe twenty minutes tops, that's it, just-"

"I can tell."

"Hey!"

"Well, what do you think?" Harper and Rommie turned as Trance emerged from one of the dressing rooms.

"It's beautiful gorgeous you look absolutely stunning can we go now please?"

Trance looked at Rommie, who tilted her head consideringly. "Mm, no."

"Yeah, you're right," Trance sighed. "It looked so nice in the catalogue though."

"And it looks even better on you," Harper responded. He sighed at the look the two women gave him. "What's wrong with this one?"

"It's a nice dress, but it's not the right one for me," Trance answered.

"That's what you said about the last twenty dozen," Harper wailed.

Trance stamped her foot. "Stop exaggerating, Harper. You know how important this is."

"They're Dragons, Trance. The uberest ubers in the whole freaking universe and you really think a new dress is going to make them say 'Oh gee, guess we were wrong about the whole inferior species thing. Let's be best buds'."

"No, I don't expect anything like that, Harper," Trance snarled. "I expect lies and betrayal from everybody and maybe even a murder or two and-"

Trance's words cut off with a gasp as Rommie grabbed the front of Harper's shirt in one hand and the front of Trance's gown in the other and drew them in close. "That's enough, both of you. This is a public place and we will not have this discussion here, am I clear?" Rommie growled, her eyes darting between her two companions until they both reluctantly nodded. "Good. Now Dylan and Beka gave you, gave all of us, the chance to bow out of this, Harper, you're the one who decided to stay. And Trance, if you know anyth-"

"May I be of any further assistance, sir and madams?"

The three turned to see turned to see the shop's proprietor standing nearby. "Thank you no, we're fine, sorry to bother you," Rommie replied, releasing her companions.

"Of course, madam." The proprietor bowed slightly and withdrew once more.

"I'm not Tyr, Rom-doll," Harper snapped. "I don't abandon my friends."

Trance sighed as she ran her hands through her hair. "If I knew anything for sure I'd tell you guys, you know that. But for all the sense I can make out of what I'm seeing- I don't know. Maybe the fate of the universe is going to hinge on a climactic breakdancing competition between Dylan and the Abyss. That makes about as much sense as anything else right now."

Harper and Rommie both snorted in surprised laughter. "You know, I think I'd actually pay to see something like that," Harper quipped.

Rommie smirked. "Can you imagine the Spirit of the Abyss-"

"Actually, I was talking about Dylan."

"He is my Commanding Officer, Harper."

"So what, that means you can't-"

"Not if I want to be able to keep a straight face my next duty shift."

Trance smiled. "I don't think we're going to find anything here today, guys. Why don't we call it a day and head home."

Harper shrugged. "Fine by me, but the ball's tomorrow. I can hang for a bit more if you need."

"The ball isn't until tomorrow evening, I'll find something in the morning," Trance answered. "Rommie, could you give me a hand getting out of this?"

Harper waggled his eyebrows. "You know, that thing looks pretty complicated, Trance. The sort of thing you guys'd need a super-genius to help figure-"

"I think one lewd conduct warrant is more than enough, don't you, Harper?" Trance laughed as she and Rommie headed for the dressing rooms. "Behave yourself 'til we get back."

Harper sat in one of the chairs the proprietor had placed near the entrance of the shop and settled in to watch some of the passing crowd while he waited.

He hadn't been sitting long when a small figure darting through the crowd careened into his leg and bounced off again. Wide blue eyes stared up at Harper from under a shock of blond hair as the engineer leaned forward. "Hey there, buddy, you all right?"

"Seamus Ui Neill, cad ata a dheanamh agat? Duirt me- Harper?"

Harper and the young boy both looked up at the woman who had spoken. "Bail o Dhia ort, Deirdre Ui Neill," Harper answered as he stood. "Cen chaoi bhfuil tu?"

Part 89

"Bail o Dhia is Mhuire duit, Harper," Deirdre responded. "Ta me go maith. Well enough anyway. And yourself?"

"Things are going all right." Harper's eyebrows rose. "So when did you learn to speak Common?"

"Ah, well," Deirdre flushed, tugging nervously at the scarf around her throat. "I was in a way of understanding what ye were saying to me that night, more or less, and well, I'd only been a wee bit of time out and about then and ye were this high-class spacer-like and, well I wanted ye to think of me as somewhat exotic-like, instead of some idjet mudfoot that can nae speak proper Common. And ye knew even less Gaeilge than I did Common. When did ye learn to speak sae fine?"

"That's kind of a long story," Harper grimaced, "and not one I really want to get into right now. Nice looking boy," he added, nodding towards the toddler, who was inspecting the soil in one of potted trees standing by the door. "Yours?"

"Seamus, no," Deirdre scolded as she blocked the boy's hand from heading to his mouth with whatever he had picked up. "He's me sister's boy. Drop it, oganach." Seamus threw down his treasure with a scowl and ostentatiously turned away, folding his arms across his chest as his aunt gave Harper an embarrassed smile.

"Kids," Harper shrugged. "Had me scared for a minute there," he laughed.

Deirdre shrugged. "Tis El Dorado after all. I dinnae think-" Deirdre's jaw dropped. "Seamus Harper, he's three years of an age," she yelped. "Ye-"

"I'm 'most four, Aun' Dee," Seamus interrupted. "Not thwee."

"Almost four," Deirdre corrected. "And what have I done told ye about interrupting when the grownups be talking?"

Seamus hung his head. "I sorry, Aun' Dee," he told the toes of his shoes. "Sorry, mister."

"Almost four, huh? That's practically grown up."

Seamus nodded vigorously. "Thwee is for babies. I'm 'most four. Almost four," he pronounced carefully. "An-"

"Ah, Harper, would ye in the way of seeing someone right now?" Deirdre asked.

"Yeah," Harper smiled. "A couple of the hottest babes in this or any other universe."

"You 'rupted me, Aun' Dee," Seamus protested.

"Twould be explaining the twin 'get away from me man' death glares then." Deirdre bent down and scooped Seamus up in her arms as Harper turned. "I know, mo chroi. I should have asked permission first. Gabhaim pardun agat. Forgive me?"

"OK," Seamus responded, throwing his arms around Deirdre's neck. "Duine a ghra, Aun' Dee."

"Love you too, mo chroi," Deirdre whispered. "I'd be in a way of thinking ye would be friends o' Harper's?" she asked, looking up at Trance and Rommie.

"Uh, guys, hi. This- this is Deirdre and Seamus Ui Neill. Deirdre, Seamus, this is Trance and Rommie my um- well they're both my-"

"You're bootiful," Seamus announced, staring wide-eyed at Trance.

"Why, thank you, Seamus" Trance smiled. "That's quite a compliment coming from such a handsome young man as yourself." Seamus buried his face in his aunt's neck in a sudden fit of shyness. "Ms. Ui Neill, a pleasure," Trance said neutrally.

"Tis pleased we are to meet ye," Deirdre answered, shifting Seamus to a more comfortable position. "I've heard quite a bit about ye, tis a fine thing ye be doing, trying to bring back the Old Commonwealth, make things the way they were again."

"Hopefully, things will be even better," Rommie replied coolly. "So how did you meet our Harper, Ms. Ui Neill?" she continued, slipping her arm through Harper's as Trance did the same on his other side.

"Uh, Rom-doll, it's not what- um, I'll think I'll just let you two talk," Harper finished rapidly as Rommie's hand tightened on his forearm.

"We met about not quite two years ago on Segas IV Drift," Deirdre replied. "Seamus is me nephew, and he were named for his grand-da," she added pointedly as she let the toddler slide back down to the ground, although she kept a firm hold on his hand.

Rommie's hand loosened on Harper's arm. "Oh, I see. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Ui Neill, but I'm afraid we really need to be going."

"What's your hurry Rom-doll?" Harper smirked. "After all, we've got the whole day-"

"Actually, we do have something we need to do," Trance interrupted. "In the library."

The smirk vanished from Harper's face. "Oh. That. Right. Um-"

"We'll be needing to be going as well," Deirdre said. "Have to make me sound check."

"You're a musician?" Trance asked.

"I'm in the way of being an amrhanai, a vocalist for a band," Deirdre answered. "W-We'll be down at the Onyx Club for the next week, if ye like ye could stop by for a show sometime. I'll go and leave your names with the hostess, if ye like."

"That sounds wonderful," Trance smiled.

Rommie rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Trance-"

"Are Seamus' parents in the band as well?" Trance continued.

"Me sister came back home already in a family way," Deirdre answered. "She passed a couple months after Seamus were born."

"I'm sorry," Trance responded. Harper and Rommie expressed their condolences as well.

"Tis the past," Deirdre shrugged.

"Aun' Dee, we gots soun' check, you said," Seamus insisted, tugging on his aunt's hand. "Soun' check's im-por-tant, Mister Dino says."

"Seamus Ui Neill, ye be knowing better than that," his aunt scolded. "What do we say?"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Bye Miss Twance. Bye Miss Wom-doll an' Mister Hawper. We gots to go now." The two groups made their farewells and departed in opposite directions. "Will Mister Dino lemme work onna soun' board again, Aun' Dee?"

"Do ye promise not to try and take it apart this time?"

Rommie whirled on Harper as soon as they turned had turned the corner. "Tell me you didn't do what I think you did," she demanded.

"Hey, you heard her, we only met two years ago and-"

"I'm talking about that damned All Systems Library and you know it, Harper."

Harper's mouth twisted. "I kept a couple things that I thought might be useful, but that's it, Rom-doll, I swear. Hey, it's not like I liked having my head stuffed so full my brains start leaking out my ears," he added in protest as Rommie gave him a skeptical look. "Despite what people think I do know my limitations. And besides, some of that stuff ended up saving our asses a time or two."

"You know them, you just don't pay enough attention to them," Rommie sighed. She looked over to where Trance was standing at the corner, looking back the way they had come. "Trance?"

"What?" Trance jumped. "I'm fine, fine." She turned to face them, the smile on her lips belied by the unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

Harper and Rommie both moved over to her. "What is it, babe?" Harper asked. "What's wrong?"

"That little boy is never going to make it to 'most five," Trance whispered.

"What? You mean Seamus? What do-"

"We can't, Harper."

"The hell we can't, Trance. He's just a kid, a-"

"If we're in a position to help him when he needs it we won't be where we'll need to be when the time comes."

Harper stared at her for a long moment. "Damn. Damn, feck, shit, merde, verdammt..." Harper continued in this vein and in several different languages as Trance's tears overflowed her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.

"Maybe we could give him a tour of me, of my ship-self," Rommie said. "I mean, we'd do this PR thing maybe about once a year or so when they'd take some schools from whatever system we were in on a tour through me and maybe a DSA and a couple GDFs. The kids always seemed to really like it, and- and I don't hear you guys coming up with any better ideas," she exploded as Trance and Harper both looked at her.

Trance smiled slightly as she shook her head. "Let's go home, guys."
 

Part 90
 

"The slipstream lenses are fine, Corn," Ruenagar reported, pausing to shift his ever-present toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "That missile-"

"Great, wonderful, terrific, let's go," Iliana Doone interrupted, shoving back her chair as she stood.

"-did manage to play merry hell with gravity control, though," the Perseid engineer finished laconically.

"You mean we're stuck on this iceball?" the pilot wailed as she collapsed back into her seat.

Cornell Ransome rubbed the bridge of his nose. Slipstreaming without the inertial dampening effect provided by the gravity control generators would not do the King's Ransom itself any damage. The freighter's crew however, would have the survival odds of an egg in a blender, and would more than likely end up at approximately the same consistency. "Can you fix it, Rue?"

"Got an idea," Ruenagar answered, "but it's going to take me a couple, three days to rig something up. More if I can't find the source of that power drain."

"Still no luck with that?"

The engineer grimaced. "It's like something's deliberately drawing the energy off, but there's nothing here."

Scant inches from one of the freighter's landing struts, a single clenched fist burst through the ice that had covered the planet since time immemorial.
 
 
 

Deirdre and the other band members glanced over at the keyboard player as the emerald-hued woman's intricate melodic harmonies suddenly devolved into jangling discord. The keyboardist recovered quickly, fingers and toes moving over the twin keyboards with practiced grace once more as she scowled at the trio that had just entered the club.

"Oh crap," Harper swore under his breath as he took in the keyboardist's angry glare. "This does not look good," he muttered, glancing at Trance. The lavender-hued woman had stiffened, her chin coming up and her fingers tightening on Harper's arm as she glared back defiantly.

Rommie's eyes narrowed as she took in her companions' reactions. "You know her?" she sent across the comlink she shared with her Engineer.

"Never met her before in my life," Harper responded in the same manner. "But Trance knows her real well. That's Selenic."

"As in Trance's fiancée? That Selenic?" Harper nodded. "This is going to be fun," the warship muttered aloud as the hostess approached, stepping in front of Trance and breaking the sightline between the two women. Selenic immediately returned her attention to her keyboards.

"Table for three?"

Rommie and Harper both looked at Trance, who nodded sharply. "We're here as Deirdre's guests," she told the hostess. "Trance, Harper, and Rommie."

The hostess glanced at the flexi in her hands. "If you would follow me, please?"
 
 
 

"After all that time spent with my dear betrothed, one would think he'd have some idea of just how dangerous we can be," Tocsin smirked as he unwound his tail from around Rev's neck, allowing the monk's unconscious form to slump to the floor.

"We don't have much time," Iblis snapped as he set the empty hypospray on his desk. "He'll be regaining consciousness in less than an hour."

"You should just kill him and be done with it. He'll never support you with the other races, now that he knows the truth."

"He may still prove useful, in one form or another. Take him to Sublevel twenty-seven," Iblis instructed the pair of Magog who had entered.

"You're making him a host?" Tocsin asked once the two Magog had departed with their burden.

Iblis snorted. "Hardly. I'm trying to breed this damnable susceptibility to religion out of my people. No," Iblis shook his head, "a host is the last thing I'd use Brother Behemial for."

"Then why keep him alive?"

Iblis stared at his companion for a long moment. "Don't think I don't know you have plans for your species beyond this alliance and our mutual goals. Our currently mutual goals," he added with a thin smile.

Tocsin smiled back. "And you don't?"

Iblis nodded in acknowledgement. "Having him as a hostage may yet prove to be a necessary bit of leverage. And if not, meat is, after all, meat," the Magog shrugged. "Although I do hope I can manage to persuade him to the proper way of thinking before then."

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