The brunette android's single remaining eye glared. "I warned you about lying to us, organic," she snarled as her fingers tightened around Ransome's throat. "The Andromeda was destroyed at the Battle of Hephaest-"

"But it wasn't," Doone cried. "It wasn't destroyed. Please, you have to believe us. He's telling the truth."

"Check the ship's database, it's all in there," Ruenagar added quickly. "You're High Guard avatars, nothing in there will even slow you down."

The brunette looked over at her blonde companion. "I say they're lying to us."

"Maybe, maybe not," the blonde android shrugged. "Easy enough to check."

"All right," the brunette agreed, releasing her hand and allowing Ransome to drop to the deck. "But make it fast. And be careful in there."

The blonde snorted as she raised her left hand and placed it on an access port, her right arm dangling limp and lifeless at her side. "Like this tub would have anything that could hurt us." Moments later she opened her eyes again.

"Well?"

"Our baby sister seems to be making quite a name for herself," the blonde avatar answered. "Take a look."

Doone glanced at her companions as both avatars closed their eyes. "Maybe-"

The blonde android smiled thinly as she opened her eyes. Reaching forward, she grasped the front of Doone's blouse and lifted the young pilot until her feet dangled several inches from the deck. "Maybe you can make things easier on all of us, organic, and not make any trouble. Can you do that, Ms. Doone?" Doone nodded frantically.

"If we cooperate-" Ransome rasped, rubbing his throat, "if we cooperate, take you where you want to go-

"We're not Vedrans, Captain Ransome," the brunette interrupted as the blonde lowered Doone back to the deck. "Deal fairly with us and we'll deal fairly with you."
 
 
 

Selenic studied the empty glass in her hand. "It's over, Trance. We've failed. We've failed and the Magog will sweep over everything and everyone in these galaxies the same way they swept over everything back home and the only thing we can do is-"

"Is to run like hell again and hope this time the Magog don't follow, is that what you were going to say?" Trance sneered. "But what about that little boy out there, Sel? What about him? What about Seamus? And Deirdre? And all the rest of your friends?"

Selenic gave a sardonic smile as she stretched out one emerald leg and grasped the half-empty bottle in one prehensile foot. "I've made sure Seamus'll be one of the lucky ones, Trance, that they all will. All of them will be safely dead when the Magog come."

Trance shook her head as Selenic held up the bottle. "Ancestors bless, what happened to you, Sel?"

Selenic poured herself another shot and tossed it back with a single swallow. "I followed the rules. Damn it." Selenic slammed the empty glass down on the table. "And damn you, Trance Gemini. Damn you and damn your fucking stupid perfect possible future and your damn fucking Gemini 'I know best' arrogance and your damn fucking Gemini luck and- and- and I watched him die!" Selenic screamed. "I loved him and I fucking watched him die, you fucking bitch, but I didn't get to bring him back. No, I had to watch him die and I- I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it from happening because if I did- if I did-" Selenic's face crumpled into bitter, wrenching sobs as she curled into a fetal ball.

Trance wrapped her arms around Selenic, rubbing her back and murmuring soothing words into her ear. "Tell me about him," Trance said softly, once the emerald-hued woman's grief had run its course. "Tell me what he was like."

Selenic gave a shaky smile and blotted her eyes with the back of her hand. "He was beautiful."

Later, after she had put the exhausted Selenic to bed and tidied up, Trance headed back to Andromeda, making a beeline directly for the machine shop Harper was in.

Harper looked up as she entered, clicking off his nanowelder and raising his protective goggles. "Hey, babe, just give me a-" The remainder of Harper's words were lost as Trance straddled him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him towards her in a fierce, bruising kiss.

"Rommie, where are you?" Trance asked as she slid from Harper's lap and pulled him with her out of the machine shop.

"My avatar is currently verifying the ammunition inventory in Weapons Locker 26."

"I need you. Now."

Part 92

"Selenic told me something else as well," Trance said quietly, her back to her companions as she rested her chin on her drawn-up knees. "She's being recalled. We all are. By order of the Council of Captains, Captain Excelsior Symphysis, Presiding. I guess my orders just haven't caught up with me yet."

"Who's this Symphysis character? I thought your grandmother's term of office didn't end..." Harper's voice trailed off as realization struck. He sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist as he reached out. "Trance, babe, I'm sorry."

"She lived a full life, right?" Trance responded dully. "I mean, that's what they always say, isn't it?"

"That doesn't mean you can't miss her, Trance," Rommie answered, caressing Trance's back with long, soothing strokes.

Trance sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the heel of one hand. "Symphysis is an Isolationist, he's going to want to keep the fleet close to home."

"Which means they won't be in position when the time comes," Rommie stated.

Harper sighed gustily as he flopped back on the bed. "And we need them, don't we? Like we need the Drago-Jerkoffs and the Bugs and everyone else we're gonna need for this insanely complicated plan of yours to work. Are you sure the whole sneak in there with a bomb thing won't work?" he added plaintively, raising himself on one elbow as he spoke. "I can get you more boom for your buck than anyone."

Rommie made a throat-clearing noise.

"I mean, Rom-doll and I can."

A smile flickered at the corner of Trance's lips. "Not unless a whole lot of things change, and I just don't see that happening."

"When your orders do finally catch up, what are you going to do?" Rommie asked softly.

Trance laid her head back down on her knees. "I don't know." She remained silent for a long while, staring at something far beyond Andromeda's bulkheads. "Gemini luck and Gemini arrogance."

"Whazzat, babe?" Harper murmured sleepily.

"Nothing. Go to sleep, Harper."

"M'kay. Ow!" Harper's eyes popped open as Rommie scooted slightly away.

"Lie down, Trance," Rommie ordered, ignoring the glare the engineer sent her way. Rommie patted the space she had opened up between Harper and herself. "You can think just as well lying down as you can sitting up," she added, overriding Trance's half-formed protest.

"It's not arrogance if it's true, my sensuous sibyl," Harper said softly, once he and Rommie had cocooned Trance between them. "Not if you've worked for it, sweated for it, earned it. Then it's justifiable pride in your abilities."

Trance turned her head, giving Harper a soft kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. But what if they are right," she sighed. "What if it is too late, and I'm just seeing what I want to see? I mean maybe I should- I don't know. I don't."
 

"Will that be all, sir?"

O'Higgins sighed as twirled the stylus between his fingers. "Yes. No. Sit down, Colonel."

"Sir," Tomyris responded as she settled back into her seat.

"How are you doing in all this, Que?" O'Higgins asked softly.

Tomyris smiled slightly, laying a protective hand across her abdomen. "You asked me that earlier, sir. We're still fine."

O'Higgins smiled perfunctorily in reply. "That's not what I'm talking about, Que."

Tomyris stiffened. "The Matriarch has made her orders clear, sir."

"Drago's Bones, Colonel, the man murdered your husband in cold blood. Are you telling me that doesn't affect you?"

Tomyris abruptly stood. Ignoring the breach in military protocol, O'Higgins watched silently as she spun on her heel and took two steps towards the fireplace before halting and dropping her head. "I always told Suleiman he was too indulgent with the boy," she said softly. "I love my husband, sir," she continued, her head coming up as she turned around to face her superior officer once more. "The boys love him too. But they deserved to know more of their father than just his picture in a flexi. As for Seamus Harper..." Her shoulders straightened as she unconsciously stood to attention. "I'm a Marine, sir."
 

Dylan looked over at Tyr as they jogged through Andromeda's deserted passageways. "They'll be asking for the Progenitor, you know," he said finally.

"I imagine they will," Tyr responded mildly.

Dylan blinked. "Oh. Well, yes, of course you knew that."

"Of course."

They continued jogging for several more minutes before Dylan spoke once more. "And it doesn't bother you?"

Tyr's eyebrows rose. "Should it?"

"Damn it, Tyr, what are you up to?"

The Nietzschean allowed the corners of his mouth to curve upwards in a small smile. "Trust me, Captain Hunt."

Part 093

"Have I ever mentioned how glad I am NCO Mess Dress doesn't include fringed epaulettes?" Rommie commented as Dylan entered the Observation Deck.

"You're just jealous because I've got a spiffier uniform than you," Dylan sniffed.

"Oh absolutely, sir," Rommie deadpanned before sharing a grin with her fellow military officer.

"Any ideas on how long the others will be?"

"Two of my 'bots are, ah, assisting Harper, so he should be along shortly," Rommie reported. "Beka's already-"

"Ready, if not exactly eager," Beka interrupted as she entered. "Not bad, guys. What's with the cutlery?"

"They're called hangers, Beka," Dylan explained, one gloved hand resting lightly on the pommel of his saber to prevent it from swinging as he turned, "and they're a traditional part of the uniform." He frowned as he took in the two pieces of jewelry she wore, the stylized slipstream wormhole in alabaster and gold she wore at her throat symbolizing her ranking as an FTA-licensed Master Pilot, with a single diamond set in the middle to show that she commanded a slipstream-capable vessel, and the blood-red ruby dangling from her left ear symbolizing the matching license she held from the Guild of Independent Merchanters. "Not bad yourself, Beka, but are you sure that's the wisest move?"

"What, this old thing?" Beka smirked as she looked down at the simple yet elegant sleeveless black sheath she wore, the fabric of her skirt parting slightly to reveal the barest flash of a toned thigh before closing again as she moved forward to join the others. "Trust me, Dylan, while there will be plenty of people there wearing this," she continued, her fingers moving to the brooch at her throat, "or this," she indicated her earring, "there will be very few people there who are able to wear both. Most independents, most true independents, don't get invited to this sort of thing very often."

"And somebody with a foot in both camps can be useful for unofficial communications between them," Dylan stated wryly.

"Occasionally," Beka nodded.

"Ooh, I just love a woman in uniform," Harper leered at Rommie as he entered the Obs Deck, his silver-headed walking stick hanging jauntily from the crook of one elbow. The stylized gold crescent wrench pinned to the lapel of his dove-gray tailcoat and the emerald stud glinting in his left ear symbolized that he, like Beka, held licenses from both the FTA and the Guild, although his were as a Master Engineer.

"Harper, you promised to behave," Rommie admonished as she turned, one gloved palm resting lightly on the pommel of her rapier, the smile tugging at her lips belying her stern words.

"I'll behave, doll, really," Harper answered, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Right," Rommie drawled skeptically.

"I swear."

"Nice threads, shorty," Beka commented. "Rommie and Trance have good taste."

"And what makes you think either of them picked this out?" Harper challenged.

"Your shirts," Beka answered.

"And just what is wrong with my shirts?"

"Would you like a list?" Tyr rumbled as he strode in.

"I thought you said this whole thing was a waste of time, Tyr," Dylan remarked.

Tyr nodded. "It is. But it could afford some amusement and I have nothing better to do tonight," he responded as he adjusted a cuff link adorned, like the buttons of his tailcoat, with the Kodiak crest so that it aligned with its fellows. A brief look of puzzlement crossed his features as he saw Rommie. "Of course, you wear your battle honors," he realized.

Rommie nodded. "As ship's avatar I am entitled," she replied. "Actually, Harper did pick that out," she continued. "After Trance and I vetoed the mint green and gold lame leisure suit, of course," she added a beat later.

"I knew it," Beka smirked.

"Hey!" Harper protested. "That was j-j- Wow."

"And that, Harper," Rommie murmured as she slipped a finger under Harper's chin and closed his open mouth, "is why we ended up going to forty-seven different stores yesterday."

Trance stood in the hatchway, her lavender skin seeming to glow against the wine-dark purple of the off-the-shoulder gown she wore. Silver filigree twined about the curve of her ears before descending to amethyst drops that glistened and sparkled with an inner fire, and the silver caduceus of a Journeyman Medic hung from a slender chain about her throat. "Well, what do you guys think? Is it too much? It is, isn't it? I knew it. I-"

"You look most elegant, my lady," Tyr interrupted smoothly, bowing slightly as he spoke.

Trance blushed. "Thank you, Tyr. You look nice, too." Tyr nodded in acknowledgement of her words.

"Trance, I- Babe, you- I mean, wow," Harper stammered. A slight push from Rommie sent him to Trance's side. "Care to make me the envy of every man at the ball, Ms. Gemini?" he asked as he offered Trance his arm. Trance merely smiled in response, slipping her arm through his. "Care to really make me the envy of every man there, Chief Ascendant?" Harper continued, holding out his other arm.

"Well, since you asked so politely, Mr. Harper," the warship responded, slipping her arm through his.

"Captain-"

"May I-"

Beka quickly stepped between the two men, breaking the angry glare between Dylan and Tyr as they straightened from their simultaneous bows to her. "Just remember, gentlemen, good little boys get rewarded," she said, slipping her arms through theirs and guiding them after the retreating trio.

Dylan and Tyr shared a wry smile over Beka's head as they allowed her to propel them forward. "You're enjoying this business between Tyr and I far too much, Captain Valentine," Dylan said.

"Nope, I'm enjoying it just enough."

"Captain, I've just received a boarding request," Rommie reported as she materialized.

"From?"

"Matriarch's Deputy Lieutenant-Commander Eleanor Kwakiutl of the Drago-Kasov Pride," the hologram answered.

"She couldn't talk to us at the ball?" Beka wondered aloud.

"Let her aboard, and have your avatar escort her to the Obs Deck," Dylan ordered as they turned around.

Part 94
 

"Sanctuary Control, Sanctuary Control, this is the merchant vessel King's Ransome requesting docking procedures."

"King's Ransome, Sanctuary Control, do you have a medical emergency?"

"Negative on that, Sanctuary, we're just here to drop off some passengers."

"Roger that, King's Ransome, transmitting procedures and course now."

"Transmission received, Sanctuary Control. King's Ransome, out."

The blonde avatar looked over at her brunette companion. "You sure this is the guy we want?"

The Gracious Conflict nodded. "Met him a couple times, when we were docked at the same drift," she answered. "Nice guy. You?"

The Courage of Conviction shook her head. "Nope, never met him. I just hope he can tell us where Rommie is."
 
 
 

Selenic threw herself into the arms of the two orange-skinned men. "Semios, Toric, it's good to see you," she said after kissing them both soundly. "I was so afraid-"

"Miscible managed to warn us about Tocsin before he was- was killed," Semios answered. He shook his head. "I still can't believe he's gone."

"We need to contact Trance," Toric said.

Selenic shook her head. "I don't think she's coming back."

"She doesn't have a choice."
 
 
 

Eleanor Kwakiutl held out the rosewood presentation box as Rommie approached. "Would you care to-"

"Thank you, Commander, but that won't be necessary," Rommie answered. "I scanned you and your equipment when you boarded, standard procedure for all non-crew. If you'll come with me please, the others are on Obs Deck."

"Of course," Kwakiutl nodded, tucking the box back under her arm. The Nietzschean officer could no help but steal the occasional glance at the android out of the corner of her eye as they walked down the passageway.

"Forgive me, Commander, but are you by any chance related to Professor Clio Kwakiutl?" Rommie asked, breaking the silence.

"My grandmother," Kwakiutl answered.

"I've read her work."

Kwakiutl turned her head fully then to look at Rommie, knowing instantly what the warship was referring to. "And your opinion, Ship?" she demanded. "As one of the subjects of my grandmother's work?"

"Better than I expected," Rommie answered. "But still, hardly a complete and definitive history of the Glorious Heritage class, as she claimed."

"Oh?" Kwakiutl responded, irritated at the casual dismissal of some twenty-odd years of her grandmother's life.

"As long as I'm around, the history of the Glorious Heritage class is not complete," Rommie stated as the hatch to the Observation Deck slid open. "Lieutenant Commander Eleanor Kwakiutl, Deputy to the Matriarch of the Drago-Kasov Pride," she announced as they entered.

"Commander," Dylan greeted her with a courteous nod.

"Captain," Kwakiutl responded with a nod of her own. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and began to speak. "I am Eleanor Kwakiutl, out of Athena, by Temuchin, and I speak with the voice of the Matriarch of the Drago-Kasov Pride. My words are her words. Seamus Zelazny Harper," Kwakiutl turned slightly to face the engineer, "having been duly convicted in a Drago-Kasov court of law for the crimes of murder, treason, and conspiracy to commit treason, and sentenced to three days of public scourging, followed by death by public crucifixion-"

"Like hell we're turning him over to you on some trumped-up charge, you uber bitch," Beka snapped, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Kwakiutl.

"Beka, wait," Trance said quietly.

"Wait?" Beka demanded. "Are you cra-"

"The murder charge's true, Boss," Harper interrupted, "but fighting against an occupying force isn't treason, no matter what Dragon law says."

"It is the decision of the Matriarch that you be granted clemency, and your punishment for these crimes be commuted to the two days of public scourging carried out prior to your escape from Drago-Kasov custody," Kwakiutl finished, removing the presentation box from under her arm and opening it to reveal the gold-trimmed azure silk of an Academician's Sash. "Seamus Zelazny Harper, having successfully completed the Competitive Examination for Professor Minor in the field of Classical Studies for the year 476 DKU with the highest overall scores, you are hereby awarded the title of Professor Minor of Classical Studies, with all the privileges and duties thereof."

"DKU?" Dylan murmured.

"Drago-Kasov Unification," Tyr responded softly.

Dylan nodded. Like most people, he tended to forget that the Drago-Kasov Pride was actually two prides that had merged into one, much like the Sabra and Jaguar Prides were in the process of doing currently.

Harper folded his arms. "I thought it was illegal for a 'non-voting citizen' to 'attend or participate in academic, vocational, or other Competitive Examinations properly intended for full citizens of the Drago-Kasov Pride,' or to 'accept any awards, regalia' yadda yadda and so on," he quoted.

"That law is currently in the process of being rescinded," Kwakiutl replied. "In any event, that law was enacted in 477, and Drago-Kasov law doesn't apply ex post facto." She gestured to the holographic projector on her belt. "May I?"

At Dylan's nod, Kwakiutl handed the presentation box to Harper and triggered the projector. An image of Bradamante Inuit flickered into view. "Professor Harper, that an Unimproved Person could succeed in competition against Nietzscheans from throughout the Drago-Kasov Empire speaks well of your genetics, while the subsequent actions of my Pride speak poorly of our own. A competitor is not merely vanquished by a wish and a wave of the hand, like an ogre in a Human fairytale, but by besting them and proving one's superiority.

"I suppose I should thank you, Professor, and you and your crew as well, Captain Hunt," the Matriarch continued. "My people have become far too complacent in our superiority, and you serve as a useful reminder that the universe does not operate at the whim of the Drago-Kasov." Inuit's face hardened. "Better to learn that lesson from you than at the hand of the Magog. My senior advisors and I have seen the same recordings you have, Captain, and more, and we have no intention of allowing the Drago-Kasov to remain as fat, contented sheep all unknowing of the wolf that prowls beyond the fold. I intend to see my people not only survive what is coming, but triumph over it. You may either stand with us, or be swept away."

Beka raised her eyebrows as the hologram flickered out. "Determined sounding lady."

"The Matriarch is mother to the entire Pride," Trance quoted softly, "and a ten-thousand year old civilization fell to the grief and rage of a Drago-Kasov Matriarch who had seen too many of her children die."

Dylan cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had fallen. "Thank you, Commander, that will be all."

"Sir." Kwakiutl spun on her heels and marched out, accompanied by Rommie's avatar.

Dylan looked over to where Harper stood, the presentation box with his Academician's Sash inside still in his arms. Trance stood beside him, and as Dylan watched, Rommie's hologram flickered to life beside Harper as well, taking the place of her absent avatar. "Care to explain exactly what just happened here, Mr. Harper?" he asked with deceptive mildness.

Harper grimaced. "It's kind of a long story, and not a real fun one, and if I tell it we're going to be late, so hows about-"

"We'll be late," Beka snapped. "Now talk."

Part 095
 

"Perhaps you could begin with the name of the Nietzschean you are accused of murdering, boy."

Harper drew in a deep breath. "Suleiman Maori," he said simply.

Tyr jerked as if struck. "Suleiman Maori," he repeated. "As in the former husband of Quechara Tomyris?"

"Yup, that's the guy."

"Wait a minute," Beka broke in, "isn't that this Metternich character's wife's name?"

"She remarried," Tyr answered.

"Let me get this straight, Mr. Harper," Dylan said. "The widow of the man you killed is now the wife of the man we're supposed to be meeting with tonight?" Harper nodded. "And you didn't think this was worth mentioning?"

"It wasn't necessary for you to know before," Trance said. "Now it is, so now you do."

"You knew about this?" Beka gasped.

"We did," Rommie answered.

"Hey, I was the one who asked them not to say anything, so if you want to blame anybody-"

"I'd say there's more than enough fault to go around right now, Mr. Harper," Dylan snapped. "Including knowingly and willfully concealing strategically vital information from a superior officer, isn't that right, Chief Petty Officer?"

Harper's jaw dropped. "Oh come on-"

"Sir, I am willing to submit to whatever punishment the Captain deems appropriate for my actions, sir," Rommie answered as she stiffened to attention.

"We will be discussing this later, Chief Petty Officer."

"Sir, yes sir."

Harper scowled. "Don't tell me-"

"I'm High Guard, Harper, for better or worse," Rommie said simply. "You know that."

"But-" Harper seemed to deflate as Trance laid a hand on his arm. "Damn it."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't toss the pair of you the hell off my ship," Beka growled.

"We can't," Trance answered.

Beka ran a hand through her hair. "Damn it, Trance-"

"I for one would like to hear the entire story," Tyr rumbled as he folded his arms across his chest. "Professor Harper."

"Yeah, well," Harper took a deep breath and glanced over at Trance and Rommie before beginning. "I did do a lot of growing up in Boston. Just not all of it.

"My family were farmers, up in the mountains," Harper began. "Had been for generations, even before the fall of the Commonwealth. We were part of the Orthodox Brethren community, you know, the ones with the veils and the- ah, never mind," Harper said as the others looked at him blankly, "I mean I was a kid, what did I know, right? But I thought we had it pretty good. Then the Magog came. Not in little raids, a couple, three, four like they'd always done, but dozens upon dozens, wave after wave after wave-" Harper stopped himself with a visible effort, and when he spoke again his voice seemed unnaturally calm. "I guess I was about six, maybe seven when we were evacuated to the Boston Area Refugee Facility. All of us, our whole community, just... I don't know if you know this, but agricultural workers, skilled agricultural workers on Dragon-controlled worlds are a Protected Class."

"That rule is more often honored in the breach," Tyr observed.

Harper grimaced. "Yeah, I kinda noticed that. A lot of it depends on the guy in charge though. Anyway, things weren't real good in the camps. Far as the Magog were concerned, they had a one-stop snack shop instead of having to hunt all over the countryside whenever they got hungry, and the ubers, well," Harper gave a small chuckle that held nothing of humor in it, "if they even heard the word Magog they'd lock themselves in their bunkers and wouldn't come out for nothing.

"When it wasn't the Magog it was the slavers coming through. They wanted young and healthy, so you learned pretty quick to act sick or lame, hell, parents would be feeding their kids all sorts of stuff, just trying to make them sick if they got wind of the slavers coming through. They caught old Mrs. Takeshini this one time, feeding her grandkids I don't know what kind of junk. They lined every adult in the camp up and just went along, up one row and down another, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, bang." Harper spoke with a chilling lack of emotion as he extended his arm, forefinger outthrust and thumb upright in ancient childish mimicry. "One, two, three, four-"

"Stop! Please-" Beka turned away, fists clenching at her sides.

"Me mum and da were both lucky number ten," Harper continued. "Me and Bridey, Bridget, my sister and I basically lived wherever we could after that, somebody's floor and whatever scraps they had left over if we got lucky, sleeping in an alley and eating whatever we could scrounge or steal if we weren't. I guess that lasted a good couple years before I finally got caught in a slaver raid.

"Everybody in the camps was registered and marked, here," Harper said, pulling back his sleeve to reveal the faded scar on his forearm. "First thing I did when I got off Earth was get it burned off.

"Anyway, I got caught and when they ran my number a flag popped up. Seems my uncle had got in good with this uber on his way up and before I knew it they'd scrubbed me down and stuck me on Maori's back step."

"Your uncle was a collaborator," Tyr stated flatly.

"Got it in one, big guy," Harper confirmed. "Head of Household, a.k.a. top slave and chief asskisser to Suleiman Maori, who'd just been confirmed as Assistant Chief of Staff to the new planetary governor, so the entire household was packing up and moving out to Hawaii, that's where most of the high level Nietzschean muck-a-mucks on Earth have their offices and stuff, if you didn't know. I think if he'd had a moment to think my uncle would've packed me right off back to the camps, but by the time he had time for me..." Harper shrugged as he spread his hands. "Plus I'd discovered I had a bit of a talent for fixing things, if I do say so myself. Look, there's something you've got to understand. My uncle was devout Orthodox and well, I'm not."

Dylan held up a hand. "Just a minute, Mr. Harper. I find it a little surprising that a devout anything could rise as high on a Nietzschean controlled world as you say your uncle did."

"And that's because you don't know anything about Orthodoxy," Harper responded.

"The Orthodox and True Reformed Catholic Church, more commonly known as the Orthodox Brethren," Rommie reported, "founded in CY9768, one of many millennial sects established in the years immediately following the Magog attack on Brandenburg Tor and prophesying the imminent destruction of all life. Primary tenets include the Doctrines of Inherent Sin, Predestination, and the Accumulation of Ancestral Sin-"

"Which means that if any of your ancestors had even the slightest bit of fun, you get to pay the bill," Harper broke in.

"The Orthodox Brethren are known for their rejection of modern technology-"

"Fire and the wheel are okay, but anything else-"

"-including common genetic and cybernetic enhancements-"

"Just call me anathema," Harper smirked as three sets of eyes focused on his dataport.

"-a strict code of sexual morality and extreme modesty in dress, including the use of facial veils that cover the lower half of the face," Rommie concluded.

"Look the big thing you need to know about Orthodoxy is that everything bad that happens to you is either your fault or the fault of your ancestors and it's all a part of the Divine Scourging which will purify the Elect and condemn the Unbelievers to eternal torment. The more you suffer now..." Harper spread his hands as his voice trailed off.

Tyr snorted. "A perfect religion. For slaves."

Beka glanced over at Tyr. "What happened after that?"

"Not surprisingly, my uncle wasn't exactly what you'd call a popular guy with anybody, Human or Nietzschean, being a collaborator and all, so when people found out I actually liked technology and was good at fixing things they jumped at the chance to piss my uncle off, first the other Human slaves, then some of the lower ranking Nietzscheans. Anyway, long story short, Maori had this thing for blue-eyed blonds like yours truly and once he spotted me, things kind of just happened," he said casually.

Beka stiffened. "Things happened?" she echoed, a look of sick realization spreading across her face. "H-How old were you when all this was going on?"

"Twelve, thirteen, somewhere around there," Harper shrugged. "I've done worse to survive, Bek. We both have," he added seriously. "Or to help out a friend."

"You knew?"

"Yeah."

"It wasn't that bad," Beka said softly, turning her head away from Tyr and Dylan's curious gazes.

"Anyway, Maori's predecessor had this collection of Pre-Contact music that got left behind when he shipped off Earth," Harper continued in a slightly too loud voice that drew everyone's attention back to him. "I got into it, and when I wanted to know more about it Maori pointed me in the direction of Earth's Branch University Library. When I wasn't working or doing other things I was studying, taking courses by remote, or out on the beach hanging ten."

"Surfing," Rommie translated. Dylan nodded absently.

"Hey, where do you think a Boston boy learned to surf so well?" Harper smirked. "Not on Back Bay, that's for sure. The weird thing was, Maori encouraged me in all of it, acted like he was really proud of me." Harper shook his head in bemusement. "I don't know, I really don't."

"People aren't simple, Harper," Trance said softly, "not even Nietzscheans, and fortunately for them, as much as they may try and deny it, they are still far from perfection, by any measure." Tyr's eyebrows rose at her statement.

"Would it have been so damn difficult for him to keep the gate open an extra ten seconds?" Harper asked. "That's all they needed. The Magog weren't even in the damn city yet." Harper looked up at the others. "My uncle married this woman, another slave. Head pastry chef. Sweetest woman you'd ever meet, she even converted for him. They had two kids, twins, Declan and Siobhan. God they used to pester the crap out of me.

"I'd just finished the exam, was actually handing it in to the proctor when the klaxons started going off. Even after five years, I still knew what they meant. You know, I'd always figured that proctor roundfiled my exam as soon as he could. He didn't seem any too happy to have some kludge sullying up his nice examination room, that's for sure.

"Anyway, Aunt Marie was out shopping with the kids when the klaxon blew. They tried to make it back, but-" Harper shook his head. "They killed Aunt Marie instantly. Declan and Siobhan- When everything was over and the Magog had retreated, they opened the gates. I went out with one of the guards. He- he let me borrow his sidearm when we found them. They were both just lying there, terrified. I could see the larvae moving under Siobhan's skin. Declan's too. They were both so frightened, wanting me to make it all better. I told them everything was going to be all right, told them both to close their eyes, and then I pulled the trigger. They were fucking nine years old. Nine!

"About a week or so later Maori summoned me to his private chambers. He always got drowsy when he was done and since I was trusted I didn't have to go through any sort of weapons scan, so once we were done I shot him, just like I'd had to shoot Declan and Siobhan. The fire was an accident, I really wasn't planning anything beyond- beyond killing him, but by the time they finished sifting through the ashes and figured out what happened I was already halfway back to Boston. Don't know why I headed there, of all places," Harper shrugged, "but I wasn't really thinking rationally at that point.

"Anyway I made it back to Boston and started looking up all my old haunts, but everything had changed. I still remembered a lot about living on the streets though, and I was doing all right when a couple of goons grabbed me and shoved me in this hole underneath the ruins of the Old North Church. They spent about two days asking me questions before Bridey showed up. Yeah," Harper laughed, "turns out my big sister was a big wheel in this group calling themselves the Sons of Liberty after the American Revolutionary War group and don't you people read any history at all?" he snarled at the looks of blank incomprehension on his questioners' faces.

"In any event," Harper sighed, "they'd found out about my killing Maori, plus I had a lot of information about how things worked inside of the Nietzschean compounds, so they let me in on a sort of provisional basis. I became their top bomb maker, if I do say so myself," Harper smirked, "and for a while there there wasn't an uber who'd dare put one toe out of the compound without at least two of his buddies along to back him up.

"Then IntSec, Drago-Kasov Internal Security, got called in. They flooded Boston with troops, money, food. I don't know who betrayed us, but they staged simultaneous raids on all six of our headquarters at the same time. Luckily we'd planned for something like that happening, and most of the records were destroyed when the ubers came storming in. They caught me, caught Bridey too, but they didn't realize who she was at first. Me of course, my name popped right up so they hauled me up before one of their tame judges and well, you know the rest.

"They took all of us to the high security facility on Martha's Vineyard for questioning, and about a week or so later they hauled me back to Boston and set me up in the middle of Boston Common for my first lesson in Scourging 101."

"The neural scourge," Rommie reported as a hologram of the scourge appeared. "Approximately 1.5 meters in length it operates in a similar fashion to the more well known neural whip, the chief differences between the two being the addition of tiny metal hooks designed to catch and tear the victim's skin embedded in the last half-meter of the scourge." One of Rommie's utility 'bots handed Beka a plastic container as the freighter captain became violently sick. "Captain?"

Dylan shook his head as he drew in and expelled a series of ragged breaths. Tyr's face might have been carved from granite, the only sign of his emotions the boneblades on his folded arms that had involuntarily extended to their fully erect fighting position.

"Sorry," Beka muttered as she wiped her mouth.

"It's cool, Boss," Harper shrugged. "Hey, I got through it with my usual savoir faire," he added quickly as Beka opened her mouth in protest.

Beka snorted shakily. "Yeah, when I think about you, Harper, savoir faire is definitely what comes to mind."

Harper waggled his eyebrows. "So think about me often, do you, Boss?" The utility 'bot shifted the half-full container to one hand and cuffed Harper on the back of the head with the other before leaving Command.

"I was just joking, Rom-doll," Harper grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

"How did you manage to escape, Mr. Harper?" Dylan said quickly.

"Like I said, we'd planned for things. Some judiciously placed bribes, some sleeper agents in place..." Harper shrugged. "You know how it goes. Well, anyway, I don't remember much. It was just after the second time I got to enjoy the lovely caresses of Madam Scourge that things went down. Nobody was in real good shape, Dragon interrogation techniques aren't exactly subtle, those who could walk helped those of us that couldn't, and that damned puddlejumper they used wasn't anywhere near big enough. We got hit a couple times by ground fire from the prison before the pilot could get out of range, shook us up pretty good. The last hit-" Harper cleared his throat. "The last time I saw my sister was as she was falling into the Atlantic.

"Anyway," Harper shook himself, "I hopped an FTA freighter heading out of Dragon territory as quickly as I could. Mac, the engineer, biggest mustache you ever saw, you know, the kind that curl up at the ends, what are they called, handlebars? Yeah, handlebars, suggested I take the journeyman's exam, so I did. Did pretty well, too, enough to get me a job working as a sub for a couple trips while this other engineer Mac knew went on maternity leave. Did some more jobs like that until I ran into Beka and the rest, as they say, is history," Harper smirked.

Dylan nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Harper. If you three would like to go on ahead, we'll catch up. Oh, and Rommie, Privacy Mode, Level Bravo, please," he added.

"Aye-aye, Captain. Level Bravo Privacy Mode engaged," the warship responded as she departed with her companions.

Part 096

"Guess who's got herself an Engineer?" Cory announced as she entered the Ransom's wardroom.

Grace looked up. "You're kidding." Cory shook her head. "This Harper character?"

"That would be him," Cory answered, taking a seat at the wardroom table. "I don't know whether to envy her or smack her upside the head once we catch up."

"Me neither," Grace shook her head. "An Engineer. Wow. Any news on her next port of call?"

"El Dorado Drift, according to Raphael."

"You believe him?"

Cory shrugged. "He made it pretty clear his first loyalty's to Rommie, not to either one of us, but I can't see any reason for him to try and mislead me on this."

Grace nodded. "Looks like El Dorado it is then. Captain?"

Ransome nodded brusquely as he stood, the rest of his crew rising as well. "Iliana-" he began, only to stop in consternation as Grace, who had also begun to stand, suddenly pitched forward to land on her hands and knees.

"I'm fine," the android said quickly, holding up a hand to forestall her sister. "Just lost my balance for a minute, that's all."

"It's Excelsior, isn't it?" Ruenagar said slowly, toothpick moving from one side of his mouth to the other as he spoke. "Both of you," he added, his eyes going to Cory's immobile arm. "That's why you didn't want me to work on you."

"You mean they're dying?" Doone gasped.

"Technically, we're not alive, Ms. Doone," the Gracious Conflict answered with a sardonic smile as she regained her feet, aided by the arm Cory offered. "But in essence, yes, we're dying."

"The Excelsior Virus is degenerative, and random," the Courage of Conviction continued, "with symptoms much like those of Than trembling sickness or Human multiple sclerosis. Eventually, once enough of our subsystems have been compromised, our neural matrix will collapse and we'll be pretty much nothing more than a pile of expensive scrap."

Doone blinked. "H- how long? Until-"

The two avatars simply shrugged in reply.
 
 

"My pain belongs to the Divine. It is-" Rev's words cut off with a scream as a bolt of agony tore through him.

"You can end this, you know," a voice whispered silkily in his ear. "Just admit the truth. There is no Divine. There is nothing beyond this universe. Nothing beyond what can be seen, heard, smelt, tasted and grasped. Nothing."

Rev slewed his eyes around to glare at his tormentor. "My pain belongs to the Divine, it is like the air, like-"

The interrogator stepped back, a look of deep sadness on his face as the monk's form arched in agony, straining against the straps that held it down. "There is no Divine. There is nothing."

Part 097
 

Harper stood silently at the junction of three of Andromeda's passageways, staring at something far beyond the heavy cruiser's bulkheads. He seemed to be ignoring the worried glances, seasoned with just a touch of exasperated affection, that Trance and Rommie had been sending his way. "I'm a boot, aren't I?" he said finally, fingering his sash as he spoke. "A boot on the Matriarch's foot as she gives her entire Pride a good swift kick in its collective ass."

"That would concur with my analysis," Rommie answered. "Of this and other actions the Matriarch has been undertaking."

"If it makes you feel any better, Harper, I don't think you're the only boot out there," Trance added.

Harper grimaced as he turned to face them. "Not really. I mean, the Dragons are at the top of the food chain and they know it. They don't have to try too hard, to think too hard- I like them that way. Fat and lazy, in a metaphorical sense at least. Contented, complacent. I like them like that. I can deal with them like that."

"I don't think you have to wear it, do you?" Trance asked. "I mean, it's not like with Rommie, where she'll get in trouble if she leaves something off her uniform, is it?"

Harper shook his head. "On the other hand," he added with a wolfish grin, "getting the chance to rub their noses in something like this definitely has its appeal."
 
 
 

"We have a contract, Sel-"

"Break it," Selenic interrupted. "Dino, all of you, please, please trust me when I say Yikaisdahi Drift is not going to be a place you're going to want to be."

"We'll be out a lot of money if we break this contract," Deirdre spoke. "Money we cannae afford to be losing."

"I know, Dee, I know," Selenic answered. "Just please, I'm asking you to trust me on this, please."

"You're asking for quite a bit of trust here, Sel," Stars Dance at Twilight remarked. "Especially for someone who's leaving, and for no good reason."

"I do have a reason," Selenic sighed. "I just- I can't tell you, that's all." The Opal Than drummer made no reply, choosing to take a sip of his drink instead.

Deirdre ran a hand through her hair. "We want to believe you, Sel. I want to believe ye. But we need summat to hang that belief on."

Selenic bit her lip. "If you go to Yikaisdahi Drift, you will die," she said firmly. "All of you." Her eyes flicked to Deirdre. "All of you."
 
 
 

Dylan rubbed his jaw with the heel of his hand. "Oh boy."

Beka half-laughed as she ran a hand through her hair. "To say the least."

Tyr's eyebrows rose. "You're surprised to find your underlings have agendas of their own?"

Dylan and Beka both stared at Tyr for a long moment. "No," Beka answered finally, if a bit sulkily. "But this seems more like agenda. Singular."

"Public Information used to say that a ship's AI was an extension of its Captain's will," Dylan remarked. "I think they even believed it," he added with a wry smile. "In any event, no matter what their agenda-" Dylan's eyes slid over to meet Tyr's, "-s may be, the question remains; can we trust them? And how far? Harper," Dylan drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Beka's eyes before continuing. "Harper, I think, could easily become a full-blown sociopath, given the right circumstances."

Beka's lips thinned. "While Rommie, by her own admission, has had the equivalent of one psychotic break already," she countered. "And came damn close to having another one not that long ago." Dylan's lips thinned in turn as he gave a jerky nod in acknowledgement of her words.

"Then there is the creature," Tyr commented, "who with perhaps just a touch of megalomania proposes to reshape what is into her own vision of the 'perfect possible future'."

Beka snorted. "Three megalomaniacs, a sociopath and a psychotic. I knew I was the only sane one in the bunch."

Dylan's mouth quirked. "I prefer to think of myself as an idealist."

"That is, perhaps, even more frightening," Tyr responded.

Beka laughed. "We could stand here discussing this forever, gentlemen, and it wouldn't make a bit a difference. Now, I do believe we have a ball to attend?" The hatch slid open as she strode forward. Dylan and Tyr looked at each other, shrugged, and followed after Beka.

Rounding the corner leading to the Andromeda's Main Personnel Boarding Tube, they saw the trio in question standing in the passageway in front of the hatch. Rommie was adjusting Harper's cravat, and when she was done she spun the engineer around to face Trance, who repositioned and smoothed his sash. Harper rolled his eyes. "Satisfied?"

"You'll do," Trance answered.

"Captain?" At Dylan's nod Rommie opened the hatch.

"Let's bring it."

Part 098
 

"Good evening, Your Grace," Solomon Metternich nodded in respectful greeting to Charlemagne Bolivar, "and, Your Grace." Metternich's nod to Elsbett was notably deeper, almost shading into a bow. "May I express both my Pride's and my own, personal sympathy for your recent loss."

Charlemagne and Elsbett both nodded in return. "Our thanks, Captain Metternich," Charlemagne answered, "to you and to the Drago-Kasov Pride."

"Captain Rebecca Valentine and party," they heard the herald announce as Beka strode into the massive ballroom, Dylan and Tyr flanking her to either side. As the Board of Directors of the Free Trade Association had not yet extended official recognition to the Reformed Systems Commonwealth, it was Beka as a licensed FTA Master, rather than Dylan who officially led the delegation from the Andromeda.

Charlemagne and Elsbett drew in shocked breaths as Harper, Trance and Rommie entered a moment later. "I can assure you, Your Graces, it is quite legitimate," Metternich said softly. "I've seen the test scores myself."

"Bad year?" Charlemagne asked lightly.

"Unfortunately, no," Metternich grimaced. "One of the better ones in fact, Your Grace. Your Grace." The Drago-Kasov diplomat nodded once more as he took his leave.

"The little twit's going to be even more obnoxious than he was before," Elsbett growled.

"We are trying to be diplomatic here," Charlemagne replied.

"I am quite diplomatic."

"Yes, dear."
 
 
 

"An exquisite piece of work, Master Harper," A chubby Perseid boomed as he approached the trio. "Truly exquisite," he repeated, eyeing Rommie up and down "Would there perhaps be a possibility of opening it up sometime, just to see-"

Rommie's eyes widened as the pleasantly welcoming smile fled her face. "Cybernetics genius or not, he touches me I'll break his damn arms," Rommie sent to Harper's dataport.

"Actually, Master Tehris," Harper said quickly, stepping forward to interpose himself between Rommie and the approaching engineer, "I've got some technical data, you know, drawings, spec sheets, that sort of thing, you'll probably find a lot more interesting. I'll have to swear you to absolute secrecy, of course," Harper continued as he deftly steered the Perseid away from the irate avatar. In truth, Harper had a complete set of false plans drawn up, just in case. Any avatars built from those plans would not only have significantly less capabilities than the original, but would also have several backdoors installed that would allow Rommie or Harper to take control of them if necessary. Only Andromeda herself knew the location of the true plans for her avatar.

"Oh absolutely, of course," Tehris nodded. "Although there really is nothing to compare with actual hands-on work," he added, twisting around to give Rommie a mournful look as Harper led him away.

Rommie sighed. "I'd be even more angry if I didn't know he's like that all the time."

"At least he noticed you were there," Trance answered.

Rommie snorted. "The Divine deliver me from Perseid engineers."

"Yes," Trance murmured, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she watched Clarion of Loss approach Beka and Dylan. "Divine deliver."

"Trance?"

Trance shook her head. "It's probably nothing. I just- I don't trust her."

"I'd be worried if you did," the warship answered.
 
 
 

"Captain Valentine, Captain Hunt, a pleasure to see you again," Clarion of Loss greeted Beka and Dylan.

"General," Dylan responded. "I must say I'm surprised to see you here, considering your government's-"

Clarion of Loss held up her hand. "I'm here strictly as a private individual, Captain, not as a representative of my government."

Dylan nodded. "Of course, General."
 
 
 

"Very nicely done, Master Harper. Or should I say, Professor Harper?"

Harper grinned. "And a good evening to you too, Detective-Inspector van Hoffenzoller. Or should I say, Commander van Hoffenzoller?" he added as he turned. "Nice threads, Al."

The new commander of the Arcadian Security Directorate gave a wry smile. "What? This old thing? They couldn't find anyone else to take the job so they figured they could sucker an old beat cop into it." Arcadia Drift was being rebuilt under FTA auspices and would be ready for habitation in about six months if all went well. "Like the sash, by the by. Brings out your eyes."

Harper smirked. "Yeah, for an old grease monkey I clean up pretty good, don't I?"

Van Hoffenzoller rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right, you keep telling yourself that, Harper," she scoffed, the upward curve of her lips belying her harsh words. "Anything new on that world-ship thing you told me about?" she added, her expression sobering as she spoke.

Harper shook his head, his face equally grim. "Still coming. Dylan and everyone are still trying to figure out exactly where it's going to hit. What about on your end?"

Van Hoffenzoller grimaced. "Shell corporations, blind drops, it's like peeling a damn onion. We keep hitting dead ends too, information that was stored only in the Arcadia database."

Harper glanced over to where Rafe Valentine was speaking with Dylan. "I thought the FTA required offsite backups?"

"Once every six months, and even if the company has a recent backup, we still need a warrant from a planetary or drift judge." She tossed back the contents of her glass with a gulp. "Sometimes I think I'm the only one who gives a damn about seeing the dead get some sort of justice. Everyone else just wants to make sure their asses are good and covered."
 
 
 

"I wonder if this much stuff was going on at our Ball?"

"All this and more, I'm sure," Drew Strothemeyer answered as he handed Beka one of the glasses he held.

"Thanks. You're probably right," she sighed, taking a sip of her drink. "Can we count on the Guild's support?"

"There are some who question the chances Captain Hunt's plans succeeding as he hopes," Strothemeyer responded, taking a sip of his own drink. "And of the desirability of restoring the Systems Commonwealth. Some of our members feel the Commonwealth's stance on certain issues is likely to place undue restrictions upon certain segments of interstellar commerce."

"If the Magog win, there won't be any interstellar commerce, restricted or not."

"Believe me, that has been mentioned a time or two," Strothemeyer responded wryly. "Shall we join them?" he added, nodding towards the dance floor.

Beka smiled. "This is the Debutante's Dance, Drew."

Strothemeyer smiled back. "You're an alum, doesn't that count for something?"

"Next dance, Drew," Beka promised with a laugh. "Next dance. Just out of curiosity," she added after taking another sip of her drink, "are you trying to seduce me?"

"Is it working?"

"I'll let you know."
 
 
 

"Hey Rom-doll, come here. And grab Trance on your way over. I've got somebody I'd like you guys to meet."

"Harper, this channel is supposed to be for-"

"Official communications concerning the status of ship's systems and-"

"And not for bellowing across the room at me."

"I was not bellow- Okay, fine, I'm sorry. Could you pretty please come over here? And ask Trance if she would care to join us too, please? With sugar on top?"

"Like you need more sugar," Rommie responded as she made a polite goodbye in flawless Kalderan to the personal assistant of the Kalderan charge d'affaires.

"Hey, those aren't my mini chocolate bars in the second from the left top drawer," Harper replied.

"Those are Trance's, Harper, you know that," Rommie answered as she headed towards where the other woman was speaking with the newly elevated Matriarch of Faolchu Pride.

"Trance doesn't like dark chocolate."

"They come in the package. I'm just making sure they don't go to waste," Rommie defended herself as she moved past Trance, the fingers of one hand lightly trailing over the other woman's back as she passed.
 
 
 

"It was great seeing you again, Madam Matriarch," Trance beamed. "Tell everyone I said hi."

"I will, Ms. Gemini," Tiye Carduchi answered with a smile. "Give my regards to Captain Valentine and Mast- Professor Harper, as well as Brother Behemial."

"Will do." Trance gave a little wave of her fingers as she left.

Carduchi turned. "Mr. Anasazi."

Tyr bowed. "Madam Matriarch. I wished to express my gratitude for Faolchu Pride's attempt to warn the Kodiak of what was to come."

Carduchi studied Tyr for a long moment. "The growth of Drago-Kasov power served, and serves, no-one's interest," she said finally. "Save the Drago-Kasov's."

"Quite true, Madam Matriarch. Although there are alternatives."

Carduchi's eyes slid over to where Charlemagne Bolivar stood trading diplomatic pleasantries with a high-ranking Chichin official. "The alternative seems hardly less palatable."

"I believe I said alternatives, Madam Matriarch."

"So you did, Mr. Anasazi."
 
 
 

Trance raised her eyebrows in silent enquiry as she approached the group.

"Guys, this is Allie, Commander Allison van Hoffenzoller of the Arcadian Security Directorate," Harper said. "You remember, I told you about her? Allie, meet the Andromeda Ascendant, better known as Rommie, and Trance Gemini, our Medical and Environmental Services Officer."

Allie and Rommie shook hands. "You're an avatar then," Allie said in a tone somewhere between a question and a statement of fact.

"I am."

Allie shook hands with Trance next. "I don't believe I'm familiar with your species."

"I'd be surprised if you were."

"We were just discussing the Arcadia investigation," Harper broke in.

Allie snagged a glass off the tray of a passing server and took a sip. "You wouldn't happen to be familiar with a Tocsin Concatenate, would you, Ms. Gemini?" she asked in a deceptively mild tone. "I merely ask due to the similarities in your physiognomies."

"The authorities on my homeworld are also quite interested in Mr. Concatenate's current whereabouts," Trance answered with equal blandness.

"Perhaps both endeavors could benefit from a mutual exchange of information."

"I'll pass that on, Commander."

"Please do." The four spoke of inconsequential matters after that, standard cocktail party chitchat, until Allie excused herself to go speak with someone across the room.

"She seems nice, Harper," Trance commented.

Harper shrugged. "I figure it's always good to have friends in influential places."

Trance smiled. "Speaking of, Matriarch Carduchi says hi. You might want to stop over and see her before we leave."

Harper's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I can take a hint, guys. But there's nothing there, really," he added, reaching out to take their hands in his. "She's just a friend. I'm not interested in anybody else."

"We know, Harper," Trance said, squeezing his hand. "What do you think of her?" she asked Rommie, once Harper had left.

"By all reports Commander van Hoffenzoller is that rarity of rarities, an honest cop, especially in this day and age," Rommie answered.

"You're becoming cynical in your old age, Rommie," Trance laughed. "But that's not what I was asking."

Rommie turned to look at van Hoffenzoller. "Her?"

"She is... a possibility," Trance answered. "We've talked about this before, Rommie. The Commonwealth wasn't built in a day, or even a generation."

"I know," Rommie sighed as she turned back to Trance. "Your people's lifespans aren't that much longer than Humans, are they?"

Trance looked away. "That's not the point."

"Isn't it?" Rommie said gently. "You said it yourself, you're too high-ranking to not have at least one child, if you can."

"Could we just drop this subject, please?

"All right."
 

Part 99
 

"Kinda surprised to see you coming home with us tonight, Boss," Harper smirked. "Then again," he glanced a few steps ahead to where Tyr and Dylan were conferring quietly, "maybe not."

Beka narrowed her eyes at Harper. "Unlike some people I could mention, I do my thinking above the waistline," she sniffed haughtily. "And- And where the hell is Rommie going?"

Harper unconsciously raised a hand to his dataport as the avatar dashed off. "Rom-doll, what is it? What's wrong?"

"She's not sending an alert," Beka said, looking to Dylan for confirmation.

Dylan shook his head. "Just, she doesn't believe it and for all of us to come quick- Harper! Trance!" he yelled after the two younger crewmembers as they dashed off as well. "Damn it. Come on," he ordered. The three senior members of the crew set off in pursuit, Beka scooping up Trance's hurriedly discarded footwear as they went.

Trance and Harper rounded the corner to find a beaming Rommie standing with two other figures, both clad in the torn and tattered remnants of High Guard Class B uniforms. "Guys, I want you to meet my sisters, the Gracious Conflict and the Courage of Conviction. Grace, Cory-"

Trance's jaw dropped. "Where the hell did you come from?" she blurted.

Harper's head snapped around. "You're surprised? You can't-"

"Captain Hunt, sir," Grace barked, all three avatars snapping to attention as the rest of the Andromeda's crew approached. "Senior Chief Petty Officer Gracious Conflict and Chief Petty Officer Courage of Conviction reporting, sir."

"At ease," Dylan answered, automatically returning Grace's salute. "Actually, that's a very good question, Senior Chief. Just where the hell did you two come from?"

"What about your ship-selves?" Beka broke in. "Are they here too?"

"Our ship-selves are dead, Captain Valentine," Cory answered. "Murdered. On the orders of the Supreme Leader of the Vedran Empire."
 
 
 

Starlight Shimmering snorted in derision. "Do they really think we're that gullible?"

The Overdiamond, spiritual and temporal leader of the Than people, turned her head slightly. "You feel the Ambassador was less than truthful, Selector Starlight?"

"I feel the Ambassador was lying through his teeth, Overdiamond."

"He's an ambassador, it's part of the job description," another selector remarked.

"Our ambassadors, however, are the very epitome of honesty," a third selector added ingenuously.

"We take it you have some reason for this doubt," the Overdiamond said once the laughter had died down.

Starlight nodded. "I do. If I may, I've taken the liberty of asking Master Dark Rumbling Thunder to appear before us today," she continued. "Master Thunder is a Senior Engineer at Nen-Tah-Re Shipyards, and one of the Hegemony's foremost ship designers." One of the door guards slipped from the Council Chamber at the Overdiamond's slight nod.

"And the subject of Master Thunder's report?" asked a selector.

"Will quickly become apparent," Starlight answered as the main door of the Council Chamber opened, allowing an elderly Ruby Than to step through and bow to the Overdiamond, and to the selectors as a whole.

The Overdiamond and the Council of Selectors rose from their seats and bowed to Thunder in response. "Master Dark Rumbling Thunder, thank you for coming," the Overdiamond spoke once she and the Council had retaken their seats. "You have some news of interest to this Council?"

Thunder nodded. "Indeed, Overdiamond. If I may?" At the Overdiamond's nod, Thunder activated a holographic projector, and the image of a Glorious Heritage-class Heavy Cruiser appeared. "This is the ship which appeared in the Li-La-Tel system over a year ago."

"The Courage of Conviction, yes," a selector responded. "I visited the ship myself before its departure, as did several of my colleagues."

"And this," Thunder continued as another image appeared beside the first, "is the Enduring Victory, which brought Ambassador Huascar here, to San-Ska-Re. As you can plainly see," Thunder pointed out as the two images merged, "the two ships are identical in every respect save the name."

"That's hardly surprising," one of the selectors remarked. "They are sibling ships, after all."

"True, Selector," Thunder responded as a third image appeared and merged with the other two. "This is an image of the Andromeda Ascendant, taken less than a month ago. Note the differences between it and its siblings, specifically here, here, and here." The engineer indicated the highlighted portions of the combined image.

"The Andromeda was subjected to the tidal stresses of the Hephaistos Singularity for over three centuries," another selector pointed out, "and has engaged in numerous battles since. Could that not account for the differences between it and the other two?"

"Perhaps, Selector," Thunder conceded as two more images appeared, "but that would not account for the differences between the first two ships and these two, both constructed at Nen-Tah-Re and both shown here at the conclusion of their initial shakedown cruises subsequent to the installation of their AIEs, their Artificial Intelligences. Note the differences, not only between these ships and the others, but between these two ships as well."

"Are you certain these images are accurate, Master Thunder?"

"Absolutely, Selector. I copied them directly from the shipyard read-only archive myself, and they have not left my possession at any time."

"Differences in the quality of the material or workmanship?" another selector inquired.

"Absolutely not," the engineer snapped. "The complete construction history of both the Gracious Conflict and the Indefatigable Vigilance, from the initial laying of the ships' keels to their final shakedown cruises and release to the High Guard was recorded and stored in the shipyard archives."

"Actually, there may be some independent confirmation of Master Rumbling Thunder's findings," another of the Selectors responded.

"And you have this confirmation, Selector Silver Darting Sun?"

"I do, Overdiamond," Silver answered. "This image was taken by one of our intelligence assets aboard Sanctuary Station. We've positively ID'd this individual as the avatar of the Glorious Heritage-class Heavy Cruiser Courage of Conviction. The original avatar."

"And the ship itself?"

"That is unknown at this time, Overdiamond. Although the avatar was observed boarding a freighter which departed along the Barsoom vector almost immediately afterwards."

"From Barsoom it's only four relatively easy Slipstream Jumps to El Dorado Drift," another selector observed.

"The Andromeda is currently docked at El Dorado, is it not?"

Silver nodded. "Yes, Overdiamond."

The Overdiamond stood, the members of the Council following a beat later. "Master Thunder, thank you for taking the time from your busy schedule to testify before us today. We must ask that you speak to no one concerning what has been discussed here today."

Thunder bowed. "Of course. Overdiamond, Selectors, thank you for your time and attention." The Overdiamond and the Council bowed in response, settling back into their seats as Thunder departed the Council Chamber.

"We trust we can maintain plausible deniability with regards to the Harper incident?"

"Our involvement was peripheral at best, Overdiamond. Or rather, at worst."

"Good. See that it remains so."
 
 
 

Metternich studied the flexi in his hand as he triggered the intercom on his desk. "Talleyrand, ask Commander Kwakiutl to come see me at her earliest convenience."

"Right away, sir," the voice of Metternich's yeoman responded.

Two minutes and thirty seconds later, Kwakiutl was standing in front of Metternich's desk. "Lieutenant-Commander Kwakiutl reporting as ordered, sir."

"At ease, Commander."

"Sir."

Metternich held up the flexi. "I received this from Tyr Anasazi earlier this evening. You are to take this directly to the Matriarch. No one else, is that clear?"

"Aye-aye, sir."

"When you have done that, you are to ask the Matriarch one question, and return immediately with her reply."

"Sir?"

"Is what Anasazi claims true?" Metternich handed the flexi to Kwakiutl. "Dismissed."

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