Blame

Blame
by R. John Burke

Notice: Gene Roddenberry’s Andromeda is a copyright of Tribune Entertainment. This is non-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended.

************************************

Beka

It wasn’t my fault.

I was piloting the ship, but it wasn’t my fault.

The courier Manifest Destiny was a small ship covered in exotic markings, snub-nosed in front and sleek in the back, geared for stealth and sneak attacks. She was big enough for eight people-- ten, if everybody holds their breath. She blew a converter over New Fountainhead, crashing me, Trance, Rev Bem, and five Nietzscheans from the Alliance of Prides into the planet’s largest ocean. That hurt. A lot.

It hurt more when I woke up and realized their Alpha, a big, tan, blue-eyed son of a ‘gog named Kaang Valhalla, was among the casualties. Kaang’s group represented a few of the small-to-midsize Prides in this area... Three Rivers, Atreus ... Dylan’s trying to talk them into banding together to disrupt the Drago-Kazov chokehold. Tyr and I suggested he wait for the new Sabra/Jaguar alliance to make their move, but Charlemagne Bolivar is still too much of a wild card. Our Hero decided to spend the wait time making a play for the support of the smaller Prides...

And then he meets Kaang Valhalla, and the bastard is charming, and sympathetic, and sounds even half-sincere, and Dylan sends him back to his people with an offer to join the new Commonwealth. An offer that will no doubt get torn into little pieces and pasted together with derisive spittle, but it’s a start. Kaang says he can use it to plant the idea in their superior little minds.

And then I go and get the sucker killed on re-entry.

No. No, damn it, it was not my fault. I know all about dodging responsibility-- Valentines invented it-- but this Valentine does not cop out. If it were my fault, I’d know it. I’d accept it.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t pilot error, and I will go to my deathbed believing that. Everything checked out fine. I made all the right moves. People still died.

I remember that moment so clearly... the moment right between the rock and the hard place, the big score and the galaxy poking us in the eye again...

Trance was sitting in the copilot’s seat, her tail making random patterns in the air while the rest of her twisted around in the seat to talk to some fairly annoyed Nietzscheans.

"See, what I don’t understand is that if there’s a Will To Power, and if there’s a will there’s a way, doesn’t that make you all Wayists?"

I take that back. Most of the Nietzscheans looked annoyed. Kaang chuckled.

"Little one, you remind me of my youngest daughter. She plays the fool exceptionally well... but at my inauguration , when one of my enemies slipped past my guard with a concealed weapon, it was she who put the knife into his ribs, between the appetizer and the soup."

"Ouch," said Trance. "I guess nobody was very hungry after that..."

"On the contrary, a well-played assassination gives one a simply ravenous appetite." Kaang leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, smiling that patronizing (but vaguely sexy) über grin. "So what daggers hide behind your innocent smile, little one?"

"Um... none? I don’t think... but I do brush twice a day..."

Kaang laughed. "Ohh, I should not like to be your enemy, Trance Gemini. I should not like that at all."

"Well, um, I shouldn’t, either?"

Thud. Something in the aft section gave way, and we were dropping altitude like a Nightsider drops fake money.

"Trance, pay attention!"

"I’m sorry!" she squealed. Her eyes swept the control board. "Is it my fault? What did I do?"

I cursed. "You didn’t do anything... we’re going down..."

The hatch from the main hold opened up. Rev lurched his way through, with a couple more Niets. "Beka, what has happened? I was just explaining to our friends that..."

"Rev, shut up and buckle down." I was fighting the controls, but they weren’t responding to my touch. The telemetry data was going crazy. New Fountainhead loomed straight in front of us, and suddenly those oceans were looking very large in the viewer... my stomach churned as the descent continued...

Trance caught my attention with that wide-open look of little-girl innocence. "Beka, it’s going to be okay, isn’t it?"

"Yes, Trance, everything’s fine," I said automatically. I lied, and she could see in my eyes that I was lying. My mouth said everything’s fine, but the eyes said this is going to be very bad.

The eyes had it. They usually do.

I steered us to a water landing, a rough one but nothing I haven’t survived before... I hit my head on the control panel, lost it for a moment. When I woke up, Trance was already awake and staring at something.

I groaned, wiped blood off my forehead, and turned to look.

"Trance, what...?"

One of the Nietzschean guards was dead. One of them was binding his wounds. And Rev Bem was kneeling over a third, praying. Kaang Valhalla. His blood had spattered everywhere in the compartment. Rev’s Wayist robe dripped with it.

"Eternal Light grant unto him, and..." Rev broke off, his voice choked. He turned to me with almost the same look Trance had given me during the crash. "I did everything I could. I tried to save their lives. But... the Divine... did not grant my plea today."

"I understand, Rev," I said, and patted him on the shoulder while I went aft to see if any other pleas had gone unheard. We bailed a few minutes later, as all the evidence went under.

It wasn’t pilot error. I know it, I swear it. If I weren’t every bit the pilot I think I am, that some-fun-bumpy landing would have been a quick, waterlogged coffin for all of us.

There was no time to investigate the ship. The waters of New Fountainhead go so deep that even the Niets couldn’t spare the resources for a recovery. They chalked it up to a political assassination-- no shortage of suspects. Kaang’s children swore revenge on his murderer. The girl with Trance’s smile probably took out a city or something. And that was that.

Only I know what happened. You can hide it from everybody else, but the pilot... you can’t hide the cause of the crash from a born pilot. The converter blew, not gradually like it was worn out, but in a quick pop. Two possibilities: Substandard parts, or sabotage.

Either way, the last person to touch the Manifest Destiny was the same harmless little mudfoot we all know and love. Seamus Harper. He gave her an upgrade just before we launched. There wasn’t time for anybody else to interfere.

Did he just get too keyed up on Sparky and lose his train of thought in the middle of a repair? It’s never happened before, but it’s easy to imagine that it could. Or did he do it on purpose? He and Kaang didn’t get along. Was he that angry? Does he hate Niets so much that the idea of allying with this one was more than he can stomach?

No. No, I can’t believe that, because sacrificing Kaang Valhalla in a courier crash would have meant sacrificing me and Trance and Rev, too, and he’d never do that. Harper’s psycho, but not that psycho. If he wanted to submarine Kaang, he’d have come up with a way to protect us from harm. He would.

I think.

I believe.

Truth is, whether he’d protect us or not, I’ve got to protect him. Because he’s my crew, because I found him and pulled him off that garbage heap and there’s nobody else to look out for him. Because he’s been there on some long, dark nights when there wasn’t anybody else to look out for me.

Dylan will certainly be more curious than the Niets. He’ll want to know how it happened, and why. He’ll want the truth, and I’ll give it to him.

I’ll tell him it was pilot error. My crew’s counting on me, and I always looks out for my own.

I guess maybe, in that way, that is the truth, more powerful than any details I could tell Dylan about the crash. I’m Captain, so it’s my fault. Even when it isn’t.

So it’s one more über who won’t be going home to his oversized family. So what? They kill each other all the time. No loss. If the Niets don’t like it, they can come and talk to me.

Now if I could just forget that annoying, vaguely sexy grin. I’d like to Flash-fry right about now and forget it forever, but I won’t. I’ll live with that grin for the rest of my life, because this Valentine does not cop out.

She does cry, sometimes, but only a little.

*****************************

Harper

It wasn’t my fault.

Sure, maybe I could’ve missed a sign somewhere, theoretically, but what are the odds of that? I’m a minor demi-god in the engineering field. It couldn’t have been my fault.

Could it? I mean...

Oh, crap. The truth is, I know what happened. I don’t want to know, but I do. It wasn’t my fault, but it was somebody’s. Had to be.

I’ve seen the computer models. I was watching when she fell. No way that was the same ship I sent ‘em out in. Same hull, maybe, but not the same guts. She popped a converter. Happens all the time-- on drift-trash scows. Not on state of the art Nietzschean couriers. Not like blowing a fuse. No way, baby.

But the kicker-- the real proof that your average genius might not catch-- was the flight path data. Her telemetry cut out, about two seconds before the trouble started. A new feed started up almost immediately, but it wasn’t the telemetry from New Fountainhead, and it wasn’t coming from Andromeda.

Not from her main computer, anyway...

It was really smooth, I mean a really professional slice n’ dice. Whoever did this knew exactly how good a pilot my boss is. They didn’t give Beka even half a chance to put the ship down right. She wasn’t even receiving the right sensor data during the crash...

It’s a miracle she kept so many of ‘em alive. So why’s she beatin’ herself up over it?

Stop kiddin’ yourself, mudfoot. You know damn well she’s not blaming herself. She’s blaming you. She’s covering for you, ‘cause she’s Beka and she thinks she’s everybody’s mommy, but she’s still blaming you.

You should talk to her.

You should shut the hell up and forget about it before you get spaced, is the truth. ‘Cause you know exactly what happened to the Manifest Destiny, don’t you, Harper my boy?

Seamus, tell ‘im what he’s won!

Well, Harper, our lucky contestant here has won a lifetime of guilt and regrets, courtesy of the Nietzschean Atreus Pride, with an assist to that lovely bit of polished metal, the Andromeda Ascendant herself!

See, they didn’t let me work on their ship alone. They’d have to be crazy, ‘cause there’s nothin’ I’d like better than to grab a couple’a Niets by the neck, spin ‘em around a few times, and toss ‘em into a Supernova. Compliments of my old buddy Mikhail, who lost his head that one time, and Teri, the girl with the pretty eyes they cut up in Edinburgh. Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it, fellas?

Only I wouldn’t have done it with my crew on board... they shoulda known that, too.

Maybe they did. Maybe that’s why they let me work at all. Maybe that’s why they brought ‘em along in the first place.

And that means the same Niet bastard who killed Kaang Valhalla tried to take down my friends. Now he thinks he made a getaway. Good luck with that, pal. Keep watching your back. You still won’t see it coming.

Ah, but you’re still kidding yourself, aren’t you, Seamus? You remember what happened. Not what you’d tell people happened, not what you want to have happened, not what makes sense to your scrambled brain... what really happened. You were just replacing the converter on the Manifest Destiny...

"Are you sure that’s the right calibration?" That big ape of a watchdog, Caesar something-or-other, is leaning just way too close. How come Niets with their big brains haven’t discovered breath mints, huh?

"Yeah," I said. "I’m sure."

"Because if it’s not..." Caesar ran a finger across the blade of his knife.

"Love you too, sweetie. Gotta go, now. You be good for mommy while I’m at work..." I ducked under his arm and disappeared. Instinctive terror is an old buddy ‘a mine, but that’s no reason not to get off a pithy line here and there.

Hairy knuckles closed around my shoulder. Oh, crap...

"I’ll be watching you, kludge."

"Sure thing." I managed about half a smirk. "You might wanna stand on the left. That’s my best side. ‘Course, they’re all pretty good... and then there’s my profile. This could take hours..."

Caesar peeled his lips back to growl again-- they’re so cute at that age-- when suddenly in comes the tour group: Beka, Trance, Rev, Kaang Valhalla, Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, and a bunch’a other random übers.

"Of course," Rev was saying in his best tour-guide voice, "you’ve already seen our cargo bay, though I don’t believe you’ve met our engineer..."

Kaang laughed. "Young Master Harper, of course. I’m told he’s the best engineer in two galaxies."

"We only say that to boost his ego," Beka said. "Not that it needs it..."

"If that’s true, we’ve created a monster!" Trance said, joining in the fun.

I was ignoring them both. I’d zeroed in on Kaang Valhalla. I started walking toward him, leaving Caesar alone by the ship. It was one of those times I wished I had a gun, but another part of me was really glad I didn’t...

"Funny, you callin’ me ‘master,’" I said, "’Cause the last time we saw each other, that’s what my people were callin’ you."

"Harper..." said Beka.

Kaang’s bodyguards took a step forward, but he just frowned. "You’re mistaken. My Pride doesn’t keep slaves."

"Ohhh... yeah, that’s right, you don’t. You just beat, torture, crucify people. Yeah, I remember you now. Your Pride was the one that got Mikhail. See? Kludges remember everything."

"Harper, that’s enough!"

I was almost to Kaang by then, just startin’ to consider that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. His bodyguards got into it, Rev stepped in and started growling, everything was about to go straight to hell...

"Enough!"

Everybody turned, including I think some people on Tarn-Vedra. The whole galaxy seemed to stop short for that voice. Even I was speechless, that’s how commanding it was.

Even Kaang was speechless, and staring at the hatch...

Tyr Anasazi stood there, looking all big and dangerous and glowering in our general direction. I’d never been so happy to see a Nietzschean in my life.

"Dylan would like our guests underway before the night cycle begins. There are too many raiders in this systems." Tyr’s eyes flicked around the room, settling on me. "Fix the ship, Master Harper. I will have words with Kaang Valhalla."

Kaang frowned. "And who are you?"

"Tyr. Anasazi. Out of Victoria, by Barbarosa." Tyr sounded out each part of his name, the way he always does. Even by Niet standards, he talks funny.

Our guest just smiled. "Impressive genes. Mine are better."

"So they say."

"I am Kaang... Valhalla. Out of Athena, by Prometheus." He stood down from his little defense stance. "And I will speak to Tyr Anasazi. For a moment."

The two biggest Niets retreated into the corridor, and everybody kinda stared at each other for a second. The guards holstered their guns. Rev swallowed his venom.

Beka took charge. "Well, what are you waiting for, Harper? You heard the man... get that ship ready, they’re out of here tonight."

"Good riddance," I said, and turned back to the Manifest Destiny. "Actually, she’s just about done. I..."

Caesar was standing there, by the open converter port. "Hey! What do you think you’re doing?"

"Checking for sub-standard parts."

"Checking? Oh, that’s it... the last thing I need is some Flash-fried übermoron cramping my style. Somebody get this guy outta here!"

And it started again. The bodyguards took an interest, Caesar started fingering his knife... etcetera. Only this time Beka played it tough and Kaang, when he came back, was very accommodating. Caesar got kicked out of the hangar bay.

Too late.

I wasn’t really worried about him interfering with the work. All I cared about was soothing my own ego. I thought that’d be enough. I didn’t realize what was about to happen.

I should have realized. I should have noticed he was wearing a ring with markings different from the ones on the ship. He was Atreus, Kaang was Three Rivers. He probably wanted Kaang dead so one of his relatives could take over the Alliance.

But I didn’t notice any of that at the time. I thought of it later, while lying in my bunk on the ship. That’s when I called to Rommie. And that’s when things got bizarre.

"You rang?" said the Andromeda hologram, managing to sound fairly annoyed, yet strangely helpful at the same time.

I rolled over. "Listen, Rom-doll, you’re not gonna believe this, but I think I just figured out who aced Kaang Valhalla..."

Something in those beautiful eyes flashed. "You did?"

"Yeah. Listen, you remember that guy... what was his name... it was a salad. Egg? Chicken?"

"Caesar?" Rommie suggested dryly.

"Yeah, him. Look, it’s been buggin’ me ever since that day... I just realized! I’ve seen his ring before! He was an Atreus!"

Rommie looked blank.

"Well, dont’cha get it? He’s Atreus and Kaang was Three Rivers. He must’ve been behind it!"

The hologram didn’t speak for a second. I was wondering if she’d heard me. "Beka says it was pilot error."

"Yeah, well Beka’s Beka and the truth is the truth. Listen, Rommie, somebody sabotaged that converter. There’s no way around it. You’ve seen the data yourself."

"The data is..." she frowned. "Inconclusive."

The trouble with being a genius is that I like hearing myself talk so much that I don’t usually listen to other people. I shoulda seen how weird she was acting. I would have seen it, but I was getting too excited by my own genius. I hopped into a sitting position and barged ahead...

"Inconclusive? C’mon, beautiful, I’ve trained your logic centers better than that. This morning I even found an interruption in the telemetry data. I’ll show it to you!"

"Harper..." Rommie caught herself. "I’m sure Kaang wouldn’t have had this man watching over the ship if he weren’t absolutely trustworthy."

"Trustworthy? He’s a Niet!"

"And you’re a mudfoot, and mudfoots never make good engineers. Except when they do."

"You’re da..." I paused. Now I was starting to get it. "Rommie, what’s goin’ on? You’re changing the subject, tryin’ to throw me off with compliments... you must be desperate."

"Desperate? I..."

Suddenly, the viewscreen in the corner of my room lit up. Another Rommie appeared and spoke to the hologram. "You might as well give in. He knows everything."

The hologram whirled on her. "Well, now he does! Will you just stay out of this?"

"He’s compromised security. You’ll have to deal with the problem."

"Deal with it? Just what are you suggesting?"

By this time, my poor head was spinning. I raised my hand like a kid in school. "’Scuse me? Question."

The Andromeda hologram turned back to me. "Listen carefully, Harper. Beka’s right. It was pilot error."

"Oh, c’mon, Rommie, Beka’s flown you! You know better than that!"

"And now it’s time for you to learn better." The other Rommie reappeared on a closer viewscreen, flanking me. "There was no sabotage. There is no murder. No one was in the hangar bay except for you and Caesar, and you both did your work perfectly. What happened to Kaang Valhalla was a tragic accident... or if it’s not, it’s the Nietzschean’s business. Either way, it has nothing to do with us. Is that clear?"

"But Rommie..."

The hologram’s hands clenched into fists. "Is... that... clear?"

"Yeah..." I settled back in bed. "Sure, Rom-doll. Whatever you say."

"And I trust," said viewscreen Rommie, "that’s what you’ll say if anybody asks?"

"Your secret’s safe with me," I told her, thinking what secret?

"Good," said Rommie. "Remember that."

"Rommie... you realize, whoever took a shot at Kaang didn’t care if our people got in the middle? They could’ve been killed. Our friends."

Hologram Rommie took a moment to compute that. "I assure you, Harper, that’s not the case."

And both of her disappeared.

That was two hours ago, and here I am. Still awake, still wondering. A cover-up on the Andromeda Ascendant? That’s not Dylan’s style. He could be desperate to keep our noses clean, to keep his little alliance with the Niets, but even then...

And what if it’s not Dylan? What if that was Rommie acting alone? Her programming’s fine, I just ran a diagnostic this afternoon, to double-check that telemetry thing. She’s not malfunctioning.

So what could she possibly be hiding? Is she covering for Dylan? Somebody else?

Herself? Can AI’s commit murder? Why? Why the hell would she?

Doesn’t matter. I’ve always been an Us vs. Them kinda guy. Good and evil switch places too much to count on ‘em. You can’t worry about bein’ right in this Universe; it’ll drive you nuts. All you can worry about is yourself and your friends, and making sure you don’t all hit that windshield together.

If Rommie wants this kept quiet, that’s what I’ll do. I’d do anything for her. Besides, I won’t be shedding any tears for a Nietzschean sadist with a pretty smile.

A better man would probably lose more than two hours sleep over this. Not me. There’s too many things I don’t understand in life, too many I’ll never understand, to worry about one more. It’s not like there’s a point or a pattern to it.

So a hologram just popped in here and half-confessed to being a murderer, or at least an accessory. So what? I’ve seen weirder things, and it’s not like the bastard didn’t have it coming.

I think I’ll sleep just fine. But I’m not looking forward to the dreams...

*************************

Andromeda

It’s not my fault.

How can it be? I’m not a human being, I’m a machine. I don’t experience guilt or regret. Most people would say I don’t have a conscience or a soul. I just follow orders.

If so, then why do I have the ability to cry for a dead Nietzschean I barely even knew?

Obviously, I’m not just crying for him. I’m crying for myself, and for my crew, and for this dream that seems like it will never come to light. We came to bring the Commonwealth back to the savages. Seems all we’ve done is introduce savagery to our Commonwealth.

Yes, that sounds right to me. Right... but still not quite adequate. I cry, not just for our loss, but for our guilt. For my guilt?

Guilt? Guilt is not contained within my operational parameters. Begin immediate purge of all guilt subroutines.

Oh, shut up! You don’t have the faintest idea what I’m talking about-- I mean, I don’t ha-- what the hell do I mean?

I mean that I feel responsible for Kaang Valhalla’s death. I’ve dirtied myself, my captain, and my crew. Even Harper, who was about to the do the right thing, possibly for the first time in his life. I talked him out of it.

Talked? I practically bullied. I scared him. I’m always scaring Harper, in one way or another, and all he’s ever wanted from me is a kind word, a touch...

What Harper wants from me, I am not equipped to give. It is that simple.

Is it? Nothing’s that simple, least of all this. I’m still forgetting one reason for my-- your-- our grief, aren’t I?

Which is?

Dylan. I grieve for Dylan. I grieve for what’s become of him, and what will become of him if this continues.

An unusual hypothesis. Explain.

I spoke to him yesterday. I wanted to tell him... what happened. What I knew. I didn’t know how to explain it. He wouldn’t listen.

He always listens to me. Dylan trusts me. He... loves me...

Don’t delude yourse-- myself. He loves his ship, Andromeda, not her Avatar.

Quotation, human archival section: ‘He only wants me for my body.’

Heh... that’s not bad. I didn’t realize I had a sense of humor. It’s true, though. He’ll never care the way I want him to... or thought I wanted.

Why wouldn’t Dylan listen to me? I could have told him the truth... I still could have fixed this...

Could I have? For everyone? That’s an impossibility. I ought to know better than that. I have a philosophical database... the one constant throughout history is that once blood has been shed, it’s impossible to put things back the way they were.

Irrelevant. The situation has been restored to a default paradigm. That is my only concern.

But it’s not...

I remember when I noticed something was wrong. Beka, Trance, and Rev had just gotten to the hangar bay, and Harper started an argument. Harper’s always starting arguments, so I didn’t devote much processing capacity to monitoring this one.

It was only when Tyr came in that I made it a priority. Tyr may not know it, but I’m always watching him. If he ever tries to betray Dylan, he’ll learn who’s really superior. Unfortunately, there are ways around that.

"Andromeda," he said, once he and Valhalla were out in the corridor, "privacy mode."

"Of course," I said, thinking very dark thoughts. Tyr alone is bad enough; Tyr with another Nietzschean is never good news. They’ll either kill each other or plot together, and either way means more cleanup for me.

There are also ways around the ways around. Harper bypassed some subroutines in one of his early upgrades that I told him I didn’t need. And I didn’t; they were the lockouts that kept me from overriding a privacy command. With this crew, especially in the beginning, I assumed that would be wise.

I bypassed privacy mode, but now I was watching both chambers at once...

That’s because Harper was being even less lucid than usual...

"You know who I am?" Tyr said to Valhalla.

Harper and Beka exchange a few words, and Harper turns back to the ship...

Valhalla grins. "I’m told you’re Tyr Anasazi, out of Victoria by Barbarosa." Then he sobers. "I know you. I know of your Pride. A shame."

"What do you think you’re doing?" Harper says, and starts complaining about his Nietzschean watchdog. Beka moves in to back him up...

"I feel no shame," Tyr says, and leans close to the other Nietzschean, his voice a whisper. He presses his palm against the wall, attaching some sort of small device. "Kodiak Pride and Three Rivers Pride were once allies. Then..."

While Harper and Beka are sorting out the Nietzschean, Trance and Rev stand back. I don’t know why they’re not helping this time. Then one of them does move...

The signal cuts out. Whatever Tyr’s done has scrambled my records. I can decrypt them, but it will take time...

End of line.

End of line? I get that every time I run through this sequence... but how can it be?

I have no record of any events in the hangar bay or the outside corridor past that point. My record log picks up at 1953 hours and 35 seconds, at which time both sections were already deserted.

I should run another self-diagnostic. I’ve already run ten of them, but...

Self-diagnostic complete. No errors found. Requested logs have been deleted.

There’s an authorization code, though. I know who deleted the logs.

Tyr seems the likely suspect. But it’s not his name on logs. The name is...

Trance Gemini, authorization code Lexic Dark 19758.

Once I knew the authorization code, I searched my memory buffers for any leftover fragments that might help me piece together what happened. I didn’t find records from the hangar bay or corridor-- Trance, though she professes to be computer-illiterate, was very thorough there. But she forgot something.

She forgot to purge the records of her own sabotage. Now that I’ve re-integrated the files, I remember it very clearly.

It was the middle of the night cycle, and my bridge was empty. The crash wouldn’t be reported until the morning, and I was still working on breaking Tyr’s damnably complex Nietzschean encrypt on those files. Maintenance androids scurried back and forth, performing various inconsequential tasks as I ran through the AI equivalent of twiddling my thumbs.

The doors opened, and there was Trance.

"Rommie? Are you awake?"

I manifest myself as a hologram to answer. "I’m an Artificial Intelligence, Trance. I don’t sleep."

"Oh. Right." Trance manages a nervous laugh. "Rommie, I, um... I had a question for you."

I appear on the viewscreen to reply, "That’s what I’m here for. Ask away."

"Are we friends?"

"Friends. I..." I paused to consider. Was this strange life-form my friend? Did I have friends? "One moment. This sounds like a face-to-face talk."

A few seconds later, my Avatar was active and on the bridge. I shut down my other incarnations, so as not to confuse anyone. "Now, Trance... what brought this on?"

She shrugged her shoulders. Then she started pacing, her tail twitching back and forth spasmodically. I realized I’d seen Trance like this before. She got tense whenever people pressed her to hard about her identity or her homeworld. But nothing like that had happened here, had it?

She whirled to face me. "Rommie, I need a favor."

"Certainly. What is it?"

"I need you..." She bit her lip. "I need you to forget something."

My Avatar arched an eyebrow. "I don’t understand."

"Like, something that happened before... on the ship... you could, um, erase the records? If you had to? Right?"

She posed each partial phrase as a question. Trance can be so like a human child sometimes... her manner would have been charming, if the request weren’t so unsettling. I wondered what the connection was between this, and Tyr’s little spy job in the corridor.

"I can only delete my logs with Dylan’s authorization. Or, if he’s not available, my duly appointed commander’s authorization."

"Oh." Trance’s face fell and her tail drooped. Then she brightened. "Well, Dylan’s not here right now! I guess I’m sort of in command... sort of. And he trusts me, you know he does! So couldn’t I ask you to delete your logs?"

I gestured for Trance to sit down, but she didn’t. Instead, I paced around her. "What is this, Trance? What are you afraid of? If it’s something private, you should know that I’m programmed never to..."

"Rommie, it’s not like that!" She was almost in tears. "You don’t understand-- something very bad has happened and I should have stopped it but even I can’t stop everything and now it only gets worse if anybody remembers! Rommie, you have to trust me! Please!"

Ah, yes. Trusting Trance Gemini. That’s always a problem. Trance asks for trust, but she doesn’t give us any reason to trust her, because she won’t trust us in return. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve asked her for information on her species to complete my database...

One hundred thirteen.

Thank you. Um, me. Thank me. Anyway, I like Trance. I really do. She’s impossible to dislike. But how can I believe in her when she doesn’t believe in me?

‘Believe in...?’ Now I’m thinking like a human.

Thank me, again. But that’s not the issue right now. I approached Trance and touched her shoulder. "It’s all right. Whatever’s happened, we can fix it. I’ll call Dylan..."

"No!" Trance looked up suddenly. She was shivering. "No, you most especially can’t tell Dylan! If you tell him, he’ll get involved, and it’s not his fault! Rommie, Dylan has to be kept out of this!"

"I..." Confusion. This was a bit much, even for Trance. "Dylan’s my captain. I have a responsibility to..."

"To protect him! Well, that’s what you’d be doing! Please believe me!"

I shook my head. "No, Trance."

She nodded. "I see. Well... I’m sorry."

"You always take these things on yourself, don’t you?" I allowed her to lay her head on my Avatar’s shoulder, the way a mother might for a frightened child. I suppose that answers the question of whether I have friends. "Let us help. Let me help. Trance, whatever it is, we have a better chance of..."

She sniffled and said, "Andromeda, command code override. Trance Gemini, code Lexic Dark 19758."

I pulled away from Trance. "Where did you learn that...?"

Too late. My automatic systems had come on-line, overriding my free will and binding me to the command of the person who’d given the code. Trance’s command. If it weren’t so ridiculous, it would be laughable. She purged my memory, and ordered me not to tell Dylan.

I disobeyed. I couldn’t bring the memories back or finish my decrypt, but using Harper’s little shortcut, the one I use to spy on Tyr, I could damn well tell him they were missing. So I did.

"Andromeda, command code override. Authorization, Captain Dylan Hunt, code..."

That’s twice this week I’ve been overridden.

Do you know what it’s like to receive an override command? Rev Bem would say it was like piece of my soul was torn away. I feel a little less alive each time it happens.

Irrelevant. I am a warship. I follow orders. That is my directive.

Yes, it is, but a human soldier can choose. They might follow orders blindly because of their training, but in the end, the decision is theirs. Their mind is theirs. My mind is a micro-processor, and my thoughts span six galaxies, but in the final analysis, I have free will only when my captain requires it.

And that hurts. It hurts coming from Trance, and especially coming from Dylan, who calls himself my heart but won’t give me his...

Why did he override me? When I tried to tell him about Trance, why wouldn’t he listen? Did they... did they plan it together? Did they kill Kaang Valhalla? Is that why I was forced to concur with Beka’s specious report about pilot error? Why I had to lie to Harper? Why I’ll lie to anyone who inquires about the crash?

Dylan and Trance? Murderers? Absurd! They’re the two most idealistic beings I’ve ever encountered. They’re two people I... love... more than...

It’s not possible. Trance might be an enigma, but Dylan would do anything for...

For his Commonwealth. He certainly would. Anything.

I don’t believe it.

Irrelevant. Belief is a spiritual concept, and I am not a spiritual creature. I am a warship. I follow orders. Everything else is inconsequential.

Even pain.

*************************

Trance

It wasn’t my fault.

It’s easy for me to say that, because even if it was my fault, who’d believe it? I’m just Beka’s good luck charm. I’m the cute one, the one they keep around to amuse them. The one they all think they’re protecting.

If they only knew...

The trouble with the future is that it’s made of the same stuff as the present. That means it will never be exactly what you want it to be. Life is chaos, chaos is life. Control is an illusion. Sometimes.

When you do have control, it’s usually a curse. Control means responsibility, and responsibility means guilt. It means you don’t always sleep very well.

I used to sleep wonderfully, because I knew enough to avoid responsibility. People have to make their own choices; I can influence, but I can’t take their control from them. I wouldn’t want to. It’s sad, because so many of these people I’ve met in the last few years are desperately seeking control, trying to impose their will on the Universe.

Have you ever heard the Universe laugh? I have.

Nietzscheans don’t understand that. They recognize no power higher than themselves, but they’re not prepared to take on all the responsibility of the highest power. So it just passes on to someone else, the way Tyr passed it on to me.

I’m a good guesser. Dylan thinks I mean something sinister when I say that, like I’m saying I’m a good guesser, but what I really mean is that I’m in total control of life, the universe, and everything.

But I’m just a good guesser. Like with Tyr and Kaang Valhalla. I guessed there’d be a problem there. You can tell by the way the neutrinos spin, sometimes. When they’re just slightly cockeyed, it means the situation is about to turn bad. Of course, you can’t see neutrinos; it’s something you have to learn to sense.

I could sense the neutrinos doing backflips when those two got together. It was pretty. Sometimes I do that, you know, to relax. I close my eyes and try to forget the physical world and just sense the matter and energy fluctuating around me. It’s like getting a really nice massage from the Universe.

And then I heard the laugh. I practically jumped out of my seat. Beka was sitting beside me, the energy crackling off her like lightning. Beka thinks she does her best flying when she’s mad at the world, but the truth is, it only clouds her thinking.

"Beka, it’s going to be okay, isn’t it?"

"Yes, Trance, everything’s fine." She couldn’t have given real reassurance, but then, I wasn’t really asking. Her energy calmed down a bit. That was the important thing, because she was about to engage in the flight of her life.

I’ve never felt anything like it. The whole ship was shaking and thumping and the wind was screeching past the cockpit bubble and everything in the viewer was a swirl of blue and white and black.

"Courier Manifest Destiny, you’ve missed your window and departed from your prearranged course. Do not attempt to land until..."

"You guys always call at mealtime..." Beka swatted the comm off and grinned at me. She was in her element.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on death. Sometimes, if you’re really still, you can feel him coming. What I felt confused and encouraged me. The closest I can come to explaining it: Death was near the courier, waiting, but hadn’t decided whether to pounce. I took that as a good sign, a sign that Beka could somehow keep her promise to make everything all right.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring right into the depths of New Fountainhead’s ocean. We were only a few hundred meters away...

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Beka, "I’m sorry to tell you that absolutely nothing on this barge can be used as a floatation device, so in the event of a water landing, we’re pretty much screwed. Hit it, Rev!"

Rev’s gravely voice said, "Almighty Divine, watch over us in what we are about to do, and allow the outcome to coincidence with Your will. Amen."

"Nice try. Could ya be a little more upbeat next time?"

We were heading almost straight down. It felt like a giant fist was hammering me back into my seat. At the last moment, Beka pulled up on the controls with all her strength. Her energy crackled again, strong enough to be felt past the chaos.

"Yeeeeeeeee-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Something crashed so loud that my ears jumped off my head and hid under the dashboard. The cabin turned upside down. I thought I heard somebody squeal.

Death pounced.

The first thing I thought when I woke up was, I should have known. The percentages on my guesses are something I’ve tried to work out for a long time now, but this one seemed so obvious. I remember the argument in the hangar bay...

"Checking? Oh, that’s it... the last thing I need is some Flash-fried übermoron cramping my style. Somebody get this guy outta here!"

The Nietzschean, Caesar, was still using that knife of his to boss people around. "Perhaps you’d care to throw me out...?"

"Hey!" Beka stepped in with her sidearm drawn. "I don’t give a damn who you work for... the next time you pull a blade on a member of my crew? I’m turning you over to the Dragons, with or without your head attached. You got that?"

I stood back, not sure what to do. Things were turning bad on all fronts, because in the corridor I could hear Tyr and Kaang raising their voices to each other. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, though. Everything was so loud. When it gets like that, sometimes it scares the neutrinos away, and I can’t sense anything.

Rev wandered over the engine while Harper and Beka were arguing. After a minute, I followed him.

"Rev?"

He snapped the engine closed. "Nothing. There is nothing."

"You thought there’d be something?"

He turned to me, and I could tell that his inner Magog was very close to the surface. Not many people know Rev’s real name, but I do-- it’s not very nice, and suddenly I knew exactly how he’d gotten it.

"That Nietzschean is Atreus Pride," Rev said. "He wears a ring..."

I shrugged. "Rings are pretty."

"The way he hovers over Harper’s repairs... I thought..." Rev shook his head. "But the engine is in order. Just... be very careful on this ship, Trance. Promise me."

"Of course."

Rev scraped his long, deadly claws across the engine, etching strange patterns on the hull. He stared at Caesar. "These people are dangerous..."

Rev was right. They were dangerous... but they weren’t killers. At least, not that day. I checked the Maru’s databanks after me returned... I was afraid to use Rommie, because I thought I’d have to do to her-- what I ended up doing anyway.

Three Rivers Pride has two blood rivals. Atreus... and Kodiak. The three Prides used to be allies before the Fall. Atreus and Three Rivers were among the smaller Prides who leant their protection in exchange for the right to view the body of Paul Musevini. And they were among the Prides who betrayed the Kodiak to side with the Drago-Kazov when Musevini’s remains were lost.

Two people with enough blood between them will sometimes cause the neutrinos to jump, the way they did around Kaang and Tyr. I’m only a good guesser and I’m still not sure why I didn’t see the probabilities more clearly, but my guess is that Tyr hated Kaang Valhalla. The engine was fine when Rev and I looked in on it, so the sabotage must have happened later... like when Kaang and Tyr came back in.

Caesar was holding his knife out at Beka, and I was about ready to hee-haw him if he got any more obnoxious. "If you think you can force me to leave..."

"Just give me an excuse, buddy." Beka got right in his face. He was short for a Nietzschean, so their eyes were on the same level. "Do you have any idea how tired I am of..."

There was no time for anybody to step between them. Luckily, a sound did it for us. Kaang’s laughter.

"Caesar, Captain Valentine... please. We’re all friends here."

Beka took a step away, but she didn’t stop staring at Caesar. "Yeah, I feel the love."

"Everything’s under control," said Tyr. "Harper, have you thoroughly checked our vistors’ shuttle?"

Harper’s lip curled, but he said, "She’s good to go."

"All right, then get out of here." No one moved, so Tyr let a little steel into his voice. "All of you! There’s nothing more to be done."

Me, Harper, Rev, and finally Beka backed away. Kaang smiled and gestured to his people, and after a second they left, too. And when I passed by Tyr...

He wasn’t scowling like he usually does. He looked happy. But the neutrinos were scurrying away from him like he was diseased. If I had to guess, I’d say that Tyr was planning something very bad.

And I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t my responsibility. It never is.

None of my new friends really understand how fragile this life is. Even though Harper’s lived his whole life around death, Tyr’s killed people for a living, and Rev struggles with it everyday, they don’t believe. They don’t know, like I do. It’s hard for them. If they think about it, they have to remember that they’re fragile, too. That scares people.

A few minutes ago, Tyr visited me in my quarters. I’ve never seen him stare at me like that, not even that day when I stopped him from stealing the Eureka Maru. The door closed, and he just leaned against the wall, staring. I studied his face long enough to notice the tiny, new scar under his chin.

"Um... hi?"

Tyr measured every word before he spoke it. "There was... a record log... I had thought to obtain from Andromeda’s database. A conversation which I consider... private."

I started watering my plants. That’s a good thing to do when you’re upset. The energy from plants is very soothing. "That’s nice. I hope you got it, I mean no one would want to listen to your private conversations. I certainly wouldn’t, and Andromeda, if she’s in privacy mode..."

"The ship’s privacy mode is small comfort to me." Tyr took a step forward. "I prefer to be thorough. But... when I checked the records... I found that someone had already been... thorough."

"Well, maybe it was Harper. He’s pretty thorough... usually... unless he’s drunk, but that hardly ever happens except when..."

"Are you... thorough... Trance?"

I turned. There wasn’t much I could say.

Tyr nodded. "Why?"

"There were bad things on those tapes. I don’t like bad things. Do you?"

Tyr ran both hands through his hair and stared at the floor. When he looked at me again, he was almost smiling. "Nietzsche tells us that ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are creations of the mind."

"Nietzsche’s wrong. Good’s what you do when you stop looking inside and open your eyes to the Universe." I swallowed hard. "You’ve never done good, have you, Tyr?"

"I tried once." He wrinkled his nose. "You stopped me."

I nodded. "That’s because you have a lot of good left to do. You can’t spend it all at once... just like I can’t let one bad thing destroy it. There’s too much at stake."

"That being...?"

"Private," I said. "Like your conversation? That was private, so nobody saw it. And nobody has to know. Right?"

Tyr’s eyes wavered for a second. He’s got the most incredible eyes. He blinked. "I have opened my eyes to the Universe. It continually surprises me."

He’s right about that. The important thing about being a good guesser is seeing everything. Not just what you want to see or what people tell you to see, but what’s real. When you do that, you get surprised a lot.

I forgot, in the hangar bay. I missed too much. I should have known. Tyr sabotaged the engine after Rev and I left. And I can’t tell anyone, because sometimes even good intentions don’t matter. Sometimes all that matters is what’s real.

The ship needs Tyr. Dylan needs Tyr. I need Tyr. But I wish he’d take his own damn responsibility.

He turned to leave. I cleared my throat, and he hesitated.

"Was it worth it? What happened to Kaang? Do you think that was good, Tyr?"

"Go to sleep, little one," he said without turning. "No answers tonight."

And then he was gone. That was just a second ago, and what I realize now... what I’m starting to realize... is that he did take responsibility, in his way. He could have told me. He knows I know. He didn’t, because he wants me to be able to sleep. But I can’t.

Tyr, for all his bluster, tried to protect me. The Universe is constantly surprising. But the responsibility isn’t gone. I guess a part a part of it will always be with me.

I wonder how long until I can sleep again.

*************************

Tyr

It wasn’t my fault.

Guilt is a wasted emotion, especially when it’s misplaced. I have no intention of sitting here all night, wallowing in guilt over the purple girl’s fantasies.

If I had killed the Three Rivers, there would be no shame in that. He was a strong man, a worthy adversary, and to beat him would have been to prove myself stronger. But I didn’t kill him, whatever she thinks, and that is the source of my...

Regret? If guilt is wasted, regret is equally worthless-- but at least it’s a more honest emotion. I regret that Kaang Valhalla is dead. I regret that an opportunity has been wasted forever. And I regret that his killer, knowingly or not, destroyed a dream I have nurtured all these long months.

If any of them knew how hard I worked to bring about the right sequence of events... winning my prize from the Drago-Kazov, encouraging peace between the Jaguars and Sabra, playing behind-the-scenes Pride politics until Kaang agreed to meet with Captain Hunt under the pretext of interest in his ‘New Commonwealth.’

He may have been legitimately interested. I’ll admit that the idea of allying with a force so powerful as the old Systems Commonwealth can be... intriguing. But I’ll wager Kaang was more interested in certain rumors that had reached his ear. Rumors I had allowed to reach him.

Or perhaps I overrate myself. It wouldn’t be the first time. I didn’t expect to need help retrieving the Progenitor’s remains. I didn’t expect my failure to turn the Lady Elsbett’s head. These were but small setbacks, survivable on the path to my larger goal.

What happened to Kaang was not a small setback. It was a disaster. A carefully planned, painstakingly coordinated, unmitigated disaster. It’s hard to accept.

I allowed myself to miss Kaang upon his arrival-- I wanted to impress upon him that I am a man to be reckoned with, and one does not accomplish that by falling over one’s guests like some obsequious slave. Or like a Commonwealth diplomat. I allowed Captain Hunt to appear eager, while I bided my time, meeting with Kaang only near the end of his visit. He had many things to consider, and I wanted my proposal to be foremost in his mind.

"Tyr. Anasazi. Out of Victoria, by Barbarosa."

Kaang inclines his head. Even for an Alpha of the Three Rivers, my lineage is to be respected. "Impressive genes. Mine are better."

"So they say."

"I am Kaang... Valhalla. Out of Athena, by Prometheus. And I will speak to Tyr Anasazi. For a moment."

I took only a moment to consider that the situation had turned; he was supposed to be impressed, but instead, he’d neatly taken control. Kaang would not be deceived; I could persuade him to support my plan only by appealing to his direct self-interest. Fortunately, I planned to do that.

We met in the corridor. I placed the ship on privacy mode, though as I told the girl, I’ve learned enough not to trust Andromeda too well.

"You know who I am?"

A smile. I didn’t appreciate it. "I’m told you’re Tyr Anasazi, out of Victoria by Barbarosa. I know you. I know of your Pride. A shame."

"I feel no shame." I whispered, "Kodiak Pride and Three Rivers Pride were once allies. Then our allies betrayed us."

"Are you asking for sympathy?"

To a Nietzschean, his words were a grave insult. I declined to take offense, for I also know how to turn a conversation. "Save your sympathy for those who have fallen at the hands of the Drago-Kazov. All who have fallen."

An expression, quickly buried. Kaang didn’t like the Dragons. We had something in common.

"That would be quite a list."

I nodded. "It would. Three Rivers Pride exists, and Kodiak is gone. I respect that. I hope you respect that we once owned that which your people would have died for. Without it, both our Prides are fallen."

"You speak of the Progenitor’s remains." Kaang rolled his eyes, but I caught the glimmer of interest in them. "You also overrate their importance. Pseudo-religious devotion to a dead man’s bones never helped anyone survive."

I leaned even closer. "I have learned on this ship that some things supersede even survival."

"Then you’ve learned from the wrong teachers." Kaang grunted. "Out of curiosity, what does a Prideless drifter value above his life?"

"Power."

A single word, guaranteed to spark the interest of any Nietzschean. Kaang stepped back.

"Power is like a windstorm... easy to chase, hard to control, mostly consisting of noise and failure." Kaang’s fingers dangled near the hilt of his knife. "Do you have the Progenitor’s remains?"

I nodded. "As the Alpha of Kodiak Pride, I offer you the same privileges that were once yours... the right to view and defend Paul Musoveni’s body as our ally."

"You would accept our alliance? We betrayed you once."

"Which proves that you’re smart." I held his eyes. "I make it a policy never to trust a man who wouldn’t betray me."

For a moment, I thought he might join me on the spot. Optimistic, yes, but not implausible. Then he laughed. "If I knew where the Progenitor’s remains were, I’d steal them from you-- though no doubt you’re prepared for the attempt." I inclined my head, and he continued, "But I’m afraid my survival does not require me to relive the past. The reality of the moment, Tyr Anasazi, is this: The Dragons are in control. Fight them and die."

"And what of Captain Hunt?"

Another laugh. I soon wearied of Kaang’s laughter. "Hunt is a strong man, a well-intentioned man... and probably the most unmitigated fool I’ve ever met. Save one. His Commonwealth, your gentleman’s alliance... they’re of a kind. You dream the same dreams as your captain, Anasazi. I almost hate to wake you up."

Defeat. I bowed my head. Kaang flashed the smile a final time and stepped past me.

In a single motion, I grasped the front of his tunic, lifted him into the air, and smashed him against the bulkhead. I growled into his ear loudly enough that we might have been heard in the hangar bay, but it seemed worth the risk, to make an impression. I suspected everyone in there would be... occupied.

"Thank you for your concern, Kaang Valhalla. Now allow me to awaken you to my reality! The truth of this moment is that the Dragons are weak! I alone took the remains from them, and have defended them for months. One man against an entire Pride. What was does say about them? I tell you they’re slavers, and they’re weak! They’re ripe for a challenge! Will you let that opportunity slip by?"

Kaang’s lip twitched. He’d been flustered, but not broken. That was good. If he could be broken so easily, he would have been worthless to me. "My Pride alone..."

"Your Pride is not alone, and that is the point. The other Prides will listen to you. Atreus, Mantis, even..." I said this last with difficulty, "even Orca. Together, they represent a considerable fighting force. A force that can be rallied in the Progenitor’s name."

"Considerable, yes," said Kaang. I allowed him to slip the floor, but did not release him. "But hardly worth the Dragons’ attention."

"The Dragons? No." Now I smiled, and it felt very good. "But it will attract the Jaguar and the Sabra."

The blue of Kaang’s eyes turned almost to gold as the full import of my plan became clear. I’m surprised he hadn’t considered it already. "You orchestrated that Alliance. That’s why this ship... you’ve been at this for months, haven’t you? Creating a coalition..."

"I prefer to think of them as an army. An army that will overtake the Drago-Kazov." Now I retreated, allowing Kaang to reclaim his personal space and his dignity. "All they need is a general."

"You?"

"A man without a Pride? Do you think the likes of Charlemagne Bolivar would follow this man?" Suddenly I felt cold, and rubbed my hands together. "No, I was thinking of Kaang Valhalla, out of Athena by Prometheus. It is known that he’s strong enough to fight the Dragons. He could be a glorious leader... as beloved as Musovini himself."

"And, of course," Kaang deadpanned, "he’d accept all the risk."

"With my willing and able assistance."

We stared at each other again. This time Kaang fared better. "And your control? Do you think I’ll be ordered about from the shadows?"

I leaned against the wall as casually as I could. "When this thing is finished, my Alpha, there were be glory and power enough to divide. For now, shall we think of it as a... working arrangement?"

This time Kaang did unsheath his knife, and rushed me with it. I didn’t flinch, not even when it was under my throat. I simply directed my eyes downward. Kaang, following my gaze, saw the tip of my own knife pressing into his gut.

He drew his blade away, accidentally nicking my chin in the process. I didn’t bother to retaliate.

"Deceive me in this, Kodiak, and Musoveni won’t be the only dead Nietzschean on this ship."

"But we’re agreed?"

He looked at the knife, sheathed it. "I’ll see the remains first."

"In time. Before anything is settled. But we are agreed, in principle?"

A short, dissatisfied nod was all I got... but it was the only confirmation I needed. Months of tireless planning had come to fruition. Kodiak Pride would rise again... I could see that very clearly... and the Drago-Kazov would finally be punished for the nightmares I had suffered for a quarter-century. We’d burn them and their allies to the ground, and all we required was a single, nondescript casket from the cargo bay.

That... and a few moment’s solitude to consider our options. Even as Kaang stepped away, I knew we’d been denied this last. Captain Hunt stepped around the corner, dripping sweat and wearing the sleeveless shirt he wears to play that infantile game of his.

Kaang caught my eye. I shook my head, just perceptibly. He hadn’t heard anything.

I saw Kaang’s hand tighten on his blade’s hilt, but I shook my head again. Dylan would have disapproved of our schemes, but he was not a man I wanted for an enemy. He, too, wanted to weaken the Drago-Kazov’s hold, and his ship could have proved to be a decisive advantage in the coming fight. Best to handle Dylan my own way, continue to cultivate his support, and deal with our diverging methods later on.

I hoped he would see what was necessary, eventually, but the corridor was not the time to break it to him.

He nodded to us. "Tyr. General Valhalla. Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," I said.

"Good." Hunt’s smile was an expression oddly like Kaang’s. Strange I didn’t realize that at the time. He turned to my colleague. "Is there anything else we should discuss?"

"No." Kaang released the knife, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "As a matter of fact, I was just about to convey your offer to my people. I think they’ll find it... illuminating."

"I’m glad to hear it," said Dylan. He shook Kaang’s hand. I assume he wouldn’t have if he’d known whom the Three Rivers Alpha was truly addressing.

"I’ll check on the Manifest Destiny," I said, and preceded Kaang into the hangar bay. My... colleagues... had started another fight with Kaang’s people. A serious annoyance, but just an annoyance.

When they’d been diverted, I went over every inch of Kaang Valhalla’s courier. He was a man with enemies, including one, I suspect, within his own circle. An Atreus who still wore the ring of his subjugated Pride. A potentially useful bit of information for the future, but my immediate concern was to make certain Kaang presented my offer. Only he had the influence and charisma to make the scheme work.

As other Nietzscheans would have died for their children, their pregnant wives, or their glimpse of the Progenitor, so I would have died for Kaang Valhalla. At that moment, he was my Will to Power.

The shuttle was in perfect condition. It had not been sabotaged. Protestations of pilot error are absurd-- I know Beka Valentine too well. She’s a superior pilot. Superior in many ways... she would not have made a mistake.

Captain Hunt hasn’t spoken a word about this to me, but I know. I see him watching me. The others watch me because they’re afraid, but Dylan watches because he finally understands. How far would he go to protect his Commonwealth? His dream that runs so close to mine? Would he stoop to sabotage? Murder?

A mistake was made, and it was mine. I trusted a man I thought wouldn’t betray me. I trusted that Dylan hadn’t heard our conversation, because I didn’t want to face what would have been necessary if he had. I trusted that he lacked the courage to assassinate Kaang.

I was wrong.

My respect for him grows daily.

*************************

Dylan

It wasn’t my fault.

Isn’t that what I always say? About the Commonwealth? About Dyhedra and Mobius? About Rhade?

About Sara?

Trance tells me that good intentions, while not everything, are the best place to start. I’m beginning to think I’d be better off with bad intentions. At least then I’d be destroying things on purpose.

Tyr is smart. If nothing else, I give him that. After Elsbett and Orca Pride and my own... private reservations... about Nietzscheans, I never would have agreed to meet with Kaang if it had been his idea. So he stayed away from it. He let the idea come to me. In fact, when I learned about the Alliance of Prides-- such an optimistic-sounding name-- he spoke against it. He and Beka both told me to wait, but once I have an idea in my head, I’m not much for waiting.

The first thing I noticed about Kaang Valhalla: He was charming. Charming like Rhade, charming like Elsbett when she wanted to be. Charming like every damn Nietzschean who ever tried to make you look away while they readied the knife. I really thought his Alliance wanted to make a difference. I was this close to asking them to sign the charter. I wanted to admit them into the Commonwealth.

Somehow, I feel dirty.

Oh, but I shouldn’t take all this on myself. That’s another thing I always do, according to Rommie. There’s blame for everyone. Beka, who lied to me. Harper, who wanted Kaang dead from the moment he stepped on board. Trance, who crafted a deception, and Rommie, who carried it through. Tyr, who set the whole thing in motion. Kaang himself, for letting his guard down-- oh, that’s criminal for a Nietzschean-- and who, just incidentally, would have killed about a trillion people with his damn jihad. Rev Bem, who...

Who told me.

That’s the kick, I guess. I’ve seen the way Tyr’s staring at me these days. He really thinks I did it. I destroyed Kaang without a thought, without remorse or pity. I saw a clear and present danger to my Commonwealth, and went after it with extreme prejudice. Well, why shouldn’t Tyr think that? It’s what he’d do.

I admit I considered it.

I think I knew something like this would happen from the moment I shook Kaang’s hand. We let everyone think the discussions had been fruitful, because the tensions aboard ship would have been even worse if we hadn’t, but the truth is, we were coming from two different places. Unless you think Nietzschean double-talk is enthralling subject matter, our talks didn’t accomplish much.

"Well, Captain," Kaang said, that day in my office, "you’ve given me much to consider."

"I’m glad. The Systems Commonweath may not sound like a very Nietzschean ideal, but your people were members in good standing for many years. I’d hate to see us all forget that because of the recent trouble."

A politely disbelieving smile. Kaang was very good at letting you know exactly what he thought without saying it... and then saying it anyway. "These recent troubles you mention go back 300 years for me, Captain."

I rose from behind my desk. "Then the sooner we put them to rest, the better."

"I couldn’t agree more."

Which, when a Nietzschean says it, means he could agree more, but he chooses not to. In any case, Kaang stood, we shook hands... his grip felt the same as Rhade’s, if that means anything... and parted as nominal friends. I think we both knew the substance of our discussion made us potential enemies, though.

When we reached the door, Kaang said it.

"Captain... had you ever considered taking this ship and striking at your enemies? No one has a vessel like Andromeda Ascendant anymore... not me, not Bolivar, not even Cuchulain Nez Percé. The power is yours, Captain, if you choose to use it."

"That’s exactly why I won’t use it." We stood for a moment. Kaang had expected that reaction, and I’d expected him to expect it, and I couldn’t help feeling we had each disappointed the other. "I’m sorry, General Valhalla. I’m afraid I don’t know anyone I hate quite that much."

"Not even Rhade?"

Silence.

"How did you..."

Kaang waved it off. "Captain, many things have changed in three hundred years, but the capacity of resourceful men to gather information remains constant."

I felt my expression turning to stone. "Gaheris Rhade was..."

"Drago-Kazov," said Kaang, as though making a decisive point, "wasn’t he?"

"I’m not sure. We never discussed it."

"A pity. You can learn a lot about a Nietzschean from his Pride. I suppose such things weren’t bandied about as much back then." The door opened, and Kaang stepped through it. The tiniest of pauses... "They’re all like him. You know that, don’t you?"

Then Kaang was gone. I cursed, and my fist hit the bulkhead. I don’t know what I was cursing about, really. It just felt right.

"That went well," said the Andromeda hologram. She’d appeared beside my desk. Diplomatic disaster or none, not a hair was out of place. Nothing flusters the Andromeda, except sometimes her captain.

"Not my best effort, was it?" I removed my hand from the wall, inspected it, and sucked on a bleeding knuckle. "Andromeda, check the old Fountainhead database. Nietzschean Pride records."

"You want to know if Rhade was Drago-Kazov?"

"I know he was Drago-Kazov." I sat on the edge of my desk, frowing. "I want to know the history of the Prides. I want to know if there’s anything between the Three Rivers... and the Kodiak."

Rommie and I shared a significant look. It had occurred to me, you see, that Kaang Valhalla had boarded my ship on a fishing expedition. Fishing, not for admission into the Commonwealth, but for an ally against his ‘Dragons.’ If he knew so much about me, he had to know I wouldn’t be that ally.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find one on Andromeda. I’d already decided to pay an ‘innocent’ visit to the hangar bay.

I purposely arrived at the bay too late to hear any of the good parts, but early enough to confirm my suspicions. Tyr and Kaang were just separating, like schoolchildren caught passing notes. They thought they were being subtle about it, but no doubt they also thought-- or at least Tyr did-- that I couldn’t prove anything.

He was right about that. I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t have acted unless I could. But I wasn’t the only one with suspicions. That’s where Rev Bem comes in.

Unless you’ve fought the Magog, been right there in the middle of a swarm attack, I don’t think you can understand just how acute their senses are. Night vision, scent... and hearing.

Even I probably don’t know the limit of their capabilities, but I do know that Rev heard Tyr’s entire conversation without straining. The bulkhead might as well have been made of tissue paper. Even Tyr didn’t count on that.

Rev found me on the bridge, about ten minutes before the scheduled launch of the Manifest Destiny.

"Aren’t you going to be late?" I said. He looked at me with strange, wild eyes. Magog eyes. "I... have to tell you I don’t envy you. Preaching the Way to a bunch of Nietzscheans..."

"Andromeda, privacy mode."

"Activated."

Rev shuffled onto the bridge. His Wayist robes obscured his shape, but even so I could see the tension. "Kaang Valhalla is going to commit murder."

"Not on this ship."

"No." Rev made a harsh, phlegmy sound like a human with pneumonia. "Tyr has promised him some sort of Nietzschean treasure in exchange for starting a war against the Drago-Kazov."

I nodded. I’d thought it was something like that.

"Dylan, we must..."

"What, Rev?" I glanced up sharply. "The last time I tried to fight Nietzscheans, the whole Universe fell apart. Their inter-Pride relations are their own problem."

"Dylan, you can’t mean that."

"I..." I realized my knuckles were white on the command console. I forced myself to relax. "No, I don’t. But we’re not in a position to stop them."

Rev was at my side in a second... I have no idea how he moved that fast. Some days I get an unpleasant reminder that he’s not just a priest.

"Claim this treasure from Tyr," he said. "Promise to intercede on the side of justice. They will think twice about..."

"Blowing Andromeda out of the sky? No, Rev, they wouldn’t. And whatever Tyr’s got in the cargo bay is his. He risked his life for it."

"And now he is risking other lives. He doesn’t have the right."

"No, he doesn’t, but I’m not prepared to lose Tyr over this. I guess you’d say he’s my reclamation project." Another small growl. I wondered if Rev would snap. I decided I knew him better than that, and forced away the ghosts of fear. "Doesn’t the Way lead to forgiveness?"

My Magog friend looked a little calmer about discussing theology. "The Way can lead to forgiveness. Or to justice, or to peace. Each Way is different. It may be that Tyr’s Way no longer places him at your side."

I nodded. "Maybe. We’ll address that when it becomes necessary."

"Dylan, it is necessary now. I will not watch a thousand worlds burn because of selfishness. The Nietzschean lust for power is every bit as dangerous as my people’s lust for blood. You know this, Dylan. You’ve seen it."

"Yes." I steepled my fingers together on the command console. "I’ve also seen a Nietzschean risk his own life to drag me out of an alien complex where I was sure I was going to die. They’ll do that... because Nietzschean’s don’t accept defeat. Nothing’s one-sided, Rev. Fighting them on this now will only make them more determined. It’ll take months to arrange the sort of revolution you’re talking about. A lot of things can happen in that time. I think Tyr’s too smart to accommodate a man like Valhalla for that long."

"What if he’s not? What if the revolution comes?"

I shrugged. "Then maybe it’ll do some good. You know how the Drago-Kazov treat people. Torture, slaves..."

"Dylan... you would not side with Kaang?"

I turned, suddenly tired of the debate. "As captain of this ship, it’s my responsibility to consider all options. In my considered opinion, it’s not time to act on this yet."

Rev’s eyes flashed. I stood my ground.

"It is never too early to act in the interests of peace."

"Rev, I’m asking you to trust me."

If you’ve never faced off against a charging rhinoceros, then you have no reference for what it’s like to be alone in a room, debating ethics with a dissatisfied Magog. It’s... an experience.

Rev nodded once and turned away.

From the doorway, he said quietly, "Dylan, did you know that a tiny quantity of Magog venom can corrode a ship’s mechanisms without leaving any traces at all? It doesn’t show up on scans." He bowed his head in my direction. "Simply for your information."

At first, I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. I opened my mouth to assert my authority, shout at him, to curse him and his whole self-righteous religion for spouting such hypocritical ‘information.’

But when the words came out, all I heard was, "Don’t move against Tyr."

Another small bow, and I was alone in the room.

Don’t move against Tyr. That was the best I could do? Surely I meant, don’t move against either of them. Don’t hurt anyone at all. That was my intention, and doesn’t Trance praise the worth of good intentions?

But all I said was, Don’t move against Tyr.

What happened after that is a blur. Beka’s story about pilot error, Harper’s theory about the Nietzschean, Trace doing whatever it is that purple people do, Tyr being Tyr... and Andromeda.

Lovely, dedicated Andromeda.

She came to me when she found out her records had been wiped. She said it was Trance, using... of all things... a High Guard security clearance.

And where did she learn that, oh Boy Wonder of the Argosy? That’s the prize question, if not an immediately relevant one...

It was in my quarters. Rommie felt she’d been... violated, I guess. The AI equivalent. She came to me to give her report, but also for comfort. And when she told me, what did I say?

"Trance had nothing to do with it," is what I said. "It was pilot error."

At least I didn’t say So don’t move against Trance.

"Dylan, I’ve run the variables... Beka did everything she possibly could to avoid crashing. There was no error. It was sabotage."

I laughed... forced myself to laugh. "That’s ridiculous. If it were sabotage, the Nietzscheans would be up here right now, tearing this ship apart."

"No, they wouldn’t... because the survivors have told them about Caesar and his Atreus ring, and they assume it was an internal assassination. You know that."

I turned on her, trying without success to keep the anger from my tone. "All I know is what my officers have reported. It was pilot error. Anyone who suggests otherwise is to be corrected, and no one is to inquire about this further. Do you understand?"

"I... Dylan, I understand, but..."

"Follow my orders."

Rommie sighed. "I don’t know how long I can keep Harper at bay. He knows what I know, and he’s not as discreet. He... might suspect that his captain wasn’t being forthcoming. He’d be wrong about that... wouldn’t he, Dylan?"

She would have kept the secret because I asked her to... but I didn’t want that. Rommie’s a good soldier. She shouldn’t be held responsible for the errors of her superior officer. So I used my own clearance code to reinforce Trance’s, and tried to ignore the hurt in her eyes. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think.

This ship hasn’t been the same the last few days. We’re going about our business, but there’s an undercurrent. You see it out of the corner of your eye, people looking at their shipmates-- their friends-- with distrust and fear. It will be forgotten, in time, but it will never be the same.

Any one of us could have killed Kaang Valhalla. In a very real way, all of us did. We conspired together in silence, we set a thing in motion that and all our good and quixotic ideals couldn’t stop. It was simply a matter of who’d left holding the gun.

Each of us has our own idea of who that was, but only I know. I’m the captain; it’s my job to be on top of these things. Just as Kaang’s war would have punished the innocent with the guilty, I find myself forced to spare the guilty to protect the innocent.

And what’s one murder? After the billions of lives that were lost in the War, the Long Night... it’s a small price to pay, if you intend to save the Universe, but you pay it in blood.

Don’t move against Tyr, I said.

I’m sure Rhade would be proud.

*************************

Rev

It wasn’t my fault.

I am a Magog, born to kill. Sin and death is my legacy. You can’t expect a wild animal to change. They may appear domesticated, but they will turn. Harper was right about that. We will turn on you, if you give us a chance.

Dylan kills for necessity and Tyr kills for power. I kill by instinct.

"I." Actually, Brother Bohemial Fartraveler killed no one. He is far too holy. ‘Rev Bem’ wouldn’t kill. He’s our father-confessor, the funny little man with a platitude for every occasion. Redplague... he’s the killer. I had thought I was free of him.

Do you know what it is like to watch a planet die? I do. I was born in fire, on Kingfisher. I... hurt, I destroyed, I killed. And I enjoyed it. Then the Way called to me, and I vowed I would never stand by and watch another innocent die. I renounced a Magog’s greatest pleasure. I turned from blood, and I had the arrogance to fancy myself a changed man.

In a way, I suppose I have changed. I did not enjoy what happened on the Manifest Destiny. If that sounds like an excuse, it is one. A poor one.

I had only spoken to Kaang Valhalla twice before he died. The first was when he came aboard. Before he spoke to Dylan, I sought him out for permission to bring the Way to New Fountainhead.

I arrived at his quarters, the door opened, and I found a knife pressed against my throat.

"I didn’t order room service," Kaang said.

"Nor, I imagine, would you care to find yourself on the menu."

The knife pressed harder. "You make threats?"

"No. I make bad jokes." The pressure slackened, but only a bit. "General Valhalla..."

"That’s a kludge title, for weak men like Nez Percé. I am Alpha of the Three Rivers Pride."

I nodded. "And how does one address an Alpha?"

"Carefully."

I allowed myself to laugh, and Kaang allowed himself to remove the knife, albeit grudgingly. "You see? We can come to an understanding. And if it is possible between Nietzschean and Magog..."

"I don’t claim to understand you." Kaang looked wistfully at his knife, then shrugged at sat on his bed. "And I won’t let you understand me. I would prefer we keep our distance, you and I."

I bowed my head. "As you wish. But first, I wonder if you’d allow me to make a request?"

"A request?" He eyes sparkled. "A request from a Magog. This is new ground. Continue."

"As you can see..." I gestured to my robes, "I am a Wayist. I understand the Wayist population on New Fountainhead is negligible..."

"The word you’re looking for," said Kaang, "is ‘deceased.’"

That was when I felt my first pang of anger. I pushed it aside, but anger does not disappear. It is only delayed.

"Nevertheless, I would like the opportunity to introduce your people to the Way."

"Nietzscheans?" A short bark of laughter. "Can you picture in your mind’s eye, Brother Magog, a Nietzschean Wayist?"

"I can picture more than that. I can picture a Universe at peace, seeking the Way together in harmony. This is the truth that gives me strength."

"Then your truth," said Kaang, "is nothing more than a delusion."

"In that case, you’ve nothing to fear from letting me speak it."

Kaang leaned forward on the bed. "Do you realize that there are three billion people on New Fountainhead? And that at least two billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million of them-- myself included-- would kill you on sight?"

I smiled, an expression humanoids tend to find unpleasant. "That leaves one million people who would be open to the way. The Divine is pleased by such opportunities."

"Your Divine is only a self-parody." Kaang snorted. "But if it pleases you, Brother Magog, to set claws on my planet and die peddling your philosophical opium, who am I to object?"

Another small nod, though the anger was building. "Whether or not you know it, you have made a wise decision this day. The Divine will bless you for your open-minded attitude."

"I look forward to it," said Kaang. I backed out of his quarters, and he stared at me for the entire distance.

Do not think that I hated Kaang Valhalla for his words. Many people have thought me a fool, and while I still work to control the anger, I have grown accustomed to it. I’ve learned to take the small victories as they come, which is much more productive than resenting people who aren’t ready to understand. I thought my conversation with Kaang had gone well.

Then I heard his discussion with Tyr. The idea of Kaang returning to his planet to destroy more worlds, to start a war even while I advocated peace to his followers... I was heartsick. I knew it couldn’t be allowed. I took the necessary steps, allowing a small amount of the venom I’d summoned during our confrontation to drip into the courier’s engine. I thought Trance had seen me, but for once her intuition failed her. I cautioned her all the same, then went to tell Dylan.

It was not murder at that point. The venom works slowly... at any time, I could have advised them to run a hand-on check, to install a new converter, or simply advised Beka to switch over to backups. Even if I did none of those but failed to alter the telemetry data, Beka could probably have guided the ship in for a hard but non-fatal landing.

I would have told her. I intended to. If Dylan had showed some inclination to stop them, convinced me that the matter was well in hand... if Tyr had confessed their plan... if I’d seen even a glimmer of hope from Kaang himself. If, if, if. The blood remains on my claws.

Even so, it was not a cold-blooded execution. I sought out Kaang a second time, after we boarded the shuttle. Beka and Trance were in the cockpit, running a preflight sequence. Kaang sat on one of the acceleration cots, half-asleep. I growled at his guards, and they granted me an audience.

"I have another favor to ask." I didn’t bother to check whether Kaang was still awake. I knew he was.

He opened one eye. "My wish, it seems, is your command. What is it?"

"Would you permit me to introduce you to the Way?"

Kaang sat up straight in his seat. His colleagues laughed, but this time he didn’t. "Have you been praying for my soul, Brother Magog?"

I said, "I believe the Divine has opened a way to your heart. You may be the perfect test case for the message I will bring to your people. I do not ask you to believe, but will you listen?"

Kaang directed a glance at his subordinates. They sneered. He turned back to me. "Why do I always get seated next to the chatty passenger?"

"May I proceed?"

He made a small motion with his hand.

"Nietzscheans believe in self-interest. Wayist do not, but even so I can see the wisdom in your perspective. Many people would be better off if they simply tended to their own concerns, don’t you agree?"

The edges of Kang’s mouth twitched. "Are you trying to sell me the Way, or a copy of Thus Spake Zarathrusta?"

"Patience, my friend."

"We are not friends."

"Yet," I said. This was the most important sermon I had ever delivered, and I prayed to the Divine for guidance. I prayed that Kaang’s eyes might be opened, that they would turn from his goal of bloodshed, but most of all I prayed that the Divine would intercede and prevent this terrible thing that was about to happen. The terrible thing I would be forced to do.

"Do you not see that violence, resentment, anger... all these things detract from your awareness of the Universe, and therefore run counter to your self-interest? Does not a peaceful man live a longer, happier life than a soldier?"

"Yes," Kaang said. "Long, happy, peaceful... and terribly dull. Nietzsche taught us to make the most of life, not settle for the least."

"That is your choice. But must your enjoyment come at the expense of others?"

"Or theirs at my expense, if they’re strong enough." Kaang wrapped his arms behind his head and leaned back. "Say what you want about our philosophy; at least it’s fair."

"It is unfair, because it destroys many of those whose voices make up the wonderful chorus of the infinite."

Kaang yawned. "Don’t get metaphysical on me, Brother."

I growled deep in my throat. Beka would finish the preflights at any moment. Was there nothing I could say?

I hit on something. "You hate the Drago-Kazov, do you not?"

That opened his eyes, anyway. "Every Nietzschean does, who isn’t a Dragon himself."

"Why? Because they have crushed their enemies? Because they’re slavers?"

Kaang spat on the floor. His fellows mimicked him. "Slavery makes them weak. They depend on others. They have no fire of their own."

"Precisely," I said. "Do you not see that the greatest cause of pain in the Universe-- greater than philosophical and territorial differences-- is this idea that one sentient being can own another. He is my slave. She must do as I say. Their lives are mine to dispose of as I wish. Is this not wasteful? Perhaps, if everyone tended to their own self-interest..."

"Then what? The Universe would be fair? The Dragons would get what they deserve?" Kaang grunted. "Much to my surprise, I find myself liking you, Brother Magog. You’re not a hypocrite, like your captain. You believe in your truth and will do what is necessary to advance it. In that way, we’re both soldiers. But we’re on opposing sides. You’ll never recruit me to your cause."

"Perhaps..."

Kaang stood. "I’m going forward. Thank you for the sermon, Brother. I wish you luck when you preach it to my people. It will be good to cull out the weak ones who don’t try to kill you for it."

He followed through on his statement. He went forward. And I prayed. While the ship prepared for departure, while it took off, while it approached New Fountainhead. And then I pressed a button, cutting off the telemetry data from Andromeda and replacing it with the data I’d hastily prepared.

When I heard the great, shuddering whine of a failed converter, I knew my prayer had not been answered.

I knew what I had to do. I went forward.

"Beka, what has happened? I was just explaining to our friends that..."

"Rev, shut up and buckle down!"

It wasn’t hard to feign ignorance. I had faith in Beka, but like the rest, I didn’t know what would happen to us. This was my offered sacrifice to the Divine; my life and the lives of my friends, if necessary, to save a billion lives.

I took the spot next to Kaang. I listened while Beka offered Trance false assurances. I watched as the flight became rough, then intolerable. Beka announced that our situation was dire. She asked for a prayer, and I delivered a heartfelt one.

"Almighty Divine, watch over us in what we are about to do, and allow the outcome to coincidence with Your will. Amen."

"Nice try. Could ya be a little more upbeat next time?"

Gallows humor, best appreciated in retrospect. The image in the viewport pitched and yawed. The time had come.

I glanced at Kaang Valhalla, and found him smiling.

"The most you can ask from life, Brother Magog," he whispered in the moment before we crashed, "is that it be fun."

"Do you believe the Divine will have mercy on your soul?"

Still the tight-lipped grin. He thought I was talking about the crash. He shook his head. "Not particularly, no."

"I do."

As we hit, I swept back his neck with my claws and sank my teeth deep into his throat. Despite myself, Redplague took control. I savored the taste of the blood, breathed in its glorious scent, and loosed a long, shrill squeal. The others were too preoccupied to notice.

So you see, I lie to myself even now. I did enjoy killing him. Only for a moment, but that is crime enough.

I did not lose consciousness during the crash. The others did. I had time to clean myself up, to make it appear that Kaang’s neck had been cut in the explosion, rather than torn. Then I took a final tally. Including Kaang, three Nietzscheans had been killed, including the Atreus who would take the blame. Two lived. All my friends lived. I lived. My sacrifice had not been accepted.

I prayed.

"Eternal life grant unto him, and..." I could not make myself speak the words. I looked up, to find that Beka and Trance were awake.

"I did everything I could (According to my moral code). I tried to save their lives (The lives of the people Kaang would have killed). But... the Divine... did not grant my plea today (I am still alive)."

"I understand, Rev," said Beka, though she didn’t. She went aft to organize the rescue.

Trance looked at me, and cried. I could not bring myself to join her.

Now I stand on the Obs Deck, searching the constellations, wishing as Andromeda once did that I could force tears from my eyes. Dylan appears and stands beside me, wordlessly offering his company for solace. It’s almost a parody of our usual relationship. I’m supposed to offer comfort. He’s supposed to be the one seeking his answers in the stars.

Tonight, we seek them together. We grieve for the lives that been lost, and the lives that have been changed.

I am Rev Bem, trusted crewmember of the Andromeda Ascendant.

I am Brother Bohemial Fartraveler, who sacrificed three lives and offered his own to satisfy the demands of his faith.

I am Redplague, who took a life with his hands and enjoyed it.

I am all of these, and the fault is mine.


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