Corona Astralis: Part Two

They made love, slow and sensual, on the veranda of the beach house. The suns were setting, sliding down into the turquoise water from the silver sky, coloring the water brilliant red and yellow and gold, sneaking in some green and purple sparks. Gillian smiled to him and pulled him up:

"C'mon, let's take a swim! Race you to the water!" She ran and he followed. She reached the water edge and turned to him, backing into the ocean: "Hurry up, you slowpoke!" She kept walking backwards and didn't, couldn't see the wave coming up from behind, a huge, enormous wave. He tried to warn her, to get her to turn and run but his voice froze in his throat, and he couldn't move, so he just watched in mute horror as the wall of water hit her and dragged her into the depths of the ocean. He finally broke out of his paralysis and ran to the water but there was no trace of her, not even a footprint on the sand and he stood there, yelling from the top of his lungs: "Gillian! Gillian!" He sank down to his knees and buried his face in his hands and whispered again: "Gillian!"

Dylan woke up with a start and ran his hand over tear-stained face. He kept having this dream over and over and over again. He tried not to sleep but even he could only go so long without rest. He got out of bed, pulled on his sweats and padded over to the bar. Pulling out the bottle with what was left of his precious Scotch he dumped it into the glass and took a long swallow. He felt the burn of the alcohol going down. Dylan smiled ruefully. No amount of booze could dull his pain. No amount of anything could do it. Knowing he wouldn't be going back to bed he took the glass and left his quarters, following his nightly route to Obs deck.

He sat down on the carpeted steps in front of the viewer and leaned back. The stars looked same as always, cold and distant and uncaring. Tonight he could see the Corona Astralis, Wreath of Stars, an amazing astronomical phenomenon -- a belt of meteorites from the constellation of Leo moving away, twirling and swirling, hanging in space like a crown. It would hang like that for a while before dissipating into a rain of falling stars. Another bitter smile twisted his lips. Gillian would have loved to see it.

"You disgust me." Dylan jumped at the voice and turned around, swaying slightly. The scotch did get to him after all. He made another step and walked smack into a wall of chainmail covered muscle that was Tyr. Strong hands steadied him and a pair of angry brown eyes bore into him. Nostrils flared, offended by the smell of alcohol on Dylan's breath.

"Mr. Anasazi. What are you doing here?" Dylan asked, voice slightly slurred.

"Looking for a chance to beat you senseless, Captain Hunt." Tyr replied, his formal address to Dylan dripping with sarcasm. "But now I see you are not worth the effort."

"Really? And why is that?" Dylan began to sober up.

"Because you are a pathetic excuse for an officer and a man and I should have supported Captain Valentine's suggestion to relieve you of duty."

"I was not aware there was mutiny on my ship."

"You are not very aware lately, Captain."

"You are out of line, Mr. Anasazi."

"Am I, Dylan?" Suddenly Tyr's voice became softer. "Can you honestly tell me that you have been functioning normally these two months? Can you honestly tell me that you haven't become reckless? That you do not have a death wish?"

Dylan was startled by obvious concern in Tyr's voice. It was not a typical behavior for his resident Nietzschean. But then again, Anasazi was not a typical Nietzschean. Suddenly, Dylan felt drained and limp. He sagged back to the floor and sat down, leaning against the railing of the steps. He wanted to take another swallow of his scotch but Tyr got a hold of his glass first and splashed the amber liquid out on the floor.

"Do you have any idea how much it hurts, Tyr? Do you know what it does to me, to go through it all again?"

"Actually, I do. Maybe more then anyone here, present company excluded. Do you not know how Gillian and I met?"

"I know the story."

"Then you know I already grieved for her once." Tyr sat down next to Dylan and ran his hand over his face. His eyes became even darker, almost black. "Only to find out that she was alive ten years later. Dylan, I don't believe she is gone. We saw no body. We don't know what transpired there."

"Tyr, the DNA evidence..."

"Could have been planted there. It could have been simply blood from the wound. It could have been anything. But you refused to let yourself hope. You betrayed her."

Dylan jumped at the last comment. "How dare you, Anasazi! How dare you to say that! I loved her!"

Tyr was in his feet in a second: "You loved her and still you betrayed her. You just accepted the fact that she was gone and that was it for you. How dare you call it love! How dare..." He never finished what he wanted to say because Dylan punched him on the jaw, hard. Tyr reciprocated and soon they were tearing at each other mercilessly. Finally Tyr, having the advantage of being completely sober, pinned Dylan to the floor and pressed his forearm to his throat, bone blades fully raised and marking Dylan's skin with tree crimson dots. At this moment Beka walked or rather stormed in and Rommie followed closely behind.

"Stop it! Now!" Beka's voice brooked no argument. Tyr growled and got up, and Dylan followed suit. Both were bruised and bloodied, but Beka noticed that Tyr was smirking. 'Son of a gun,' she thought, 'he did it on purpose!' She monitored their exchange, alerted by Rommie, who was under orders to monitor Dylan at all times. Beka never believed his seeming calmness and noticed his recent recklessness. At first Beka thought to let the boys play it out, but at the end she feared that Tyr was genuinely pissed at Dylan and could do some real harm, so she and Rommie interfered.

"What the hell was that all about?" Beka stood between the two, arms folded on her chest.

"A difference of opinion on certain aspects of my life that are really none of anyone's business." Dylan replied testily and spat blood from his mouth.

"You are being juvenile. One more incident like that and I will relieve you of duty as mentally unfit, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am, Captain Valentine, ma'am!" Hunt gave a mock salute and glared at Beka. She returned his glare and turned to Anasazi:

"Tyr, I suggest you restrain yourself unless you want to end up in the brig for a day or two."

"Understood."

"Rommie, please take these two to Medical. I want their injuries looked at. After that I want to have a talk with both of you."

"Aye. Dylan, Tyr, let's go."

"I'm fine!" Came simultaneous reply.

"Now, please."

They grudgingly followed. In half an hour they were done and on their way to see Beka when holo-Rommie appeared:

"We are receiving a transmission from Jaguar Prime. It's Archduke Bolivar and the message states urgent."

"On our way. What could he possibly want at 0200 hours?" Dylan grumbled and picked up the pace. Tyr followed grimly.

* * *

The "Butterflies" bar on El Dorado Drift was bustling. It was not actually a bar but a well-known 'house of ill-repute', veiled as a drinking establishment. It catered to the variety of tastes and was frequented by Nietzscheans who desired aberrant entertainment. Yassir and Mahdi entered said establishment in anticipation. Jaguar soldiers were celebrating Yassir's promotion to the Lieutenant of Archduke Bolivar personal Guard. They were on leave and since both were not yet mated this place was a natural choice for them. They were quickly approached by the hostess:

"What would be your pleasure, gentlemen?"

"We'll take a look around first."

"Sure, whatever makes you happy." She escorted them to the table and took their order for drinks. A young woman who served them later caught Yassir's eye. There was something familiar about her but he couldn't put his finger on it. He beckoned the hostess:

"Who is the waitress that served us?"

"You'd like her to entertain you?"

"Perhaps. Who is she?"

"Human, I can tell you that much. I bought her recently. The clients like her. She is quiet though, won't be good company. I suggest..."

"I didn't come here to talk, if you know what I mean. Send her over."

"Yes, sir."

Mahdi was surprised at his friend's behavior.

"Hey, what's gotten into you?"

"I think I know that woman. If I am right it could make me a Captain in no time."

The subject of their discussion approached the table. Bowing slightly she spoke to Yassir: "My lord, you requested my presence? How may I be of service?"

"Sit with us, have a drink."

"Thank you, my Lord." She bowed again and took a seat next to Yassir.

"What is your name?"

"I am a slave, I do not need a name. You may call me whatever you wish, my Lord."

"How about I call you Gillian?"

The name produced no reaction except for curt "As you wish, sir."

Yassir asked her a number of hinting questions but got no information out of her. She looked at him with desperate eyes: "Would you like to retire to the room, my Lord?" If she looses another client she will suffer the wrath of her madam.

"Would you?"

"I am here to please you, my Lord. I will do as you wish."

Yassir took a hold of her left arm and looked carefully. Sure enough, he saw the tattoo. A string of letters and numbers, dark smudge on pale skin.

"What is this?"

"I do not know sir."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

She looked at her feet. Yassir tipped her chin up and looked her in the eyes:

"Do not make me angry, woman. Speak."

"I am telling the truth, sir. I have no recollection of my past beyond two months ago. I was told I was a slave and that's the only thing I know."

Yassir called the madam over. When she came her smile looked more like a sneer:

"What did she do this time?" Not waiting for an answer she backhanded young woman across the face. Raised her arm to do it again but was caught in a vice-like grip:

"I did not say she upset me. Do not do it again. If I am displeased I can punish the whore myself."

Madam wavered in fear. Upset Nietzschean was dangerous. "Forgive me, kind sir. I..."

"I want to buy this whore from you. How much?"

"I am sorry sir, but..."

"Do I not speak Common? How much?"

"Three thousand thrones."

"Here." Yassir threw a credit chip at her. "We are leaving." He turned to his newly acquired slave: "Get your things, woman. You are leaving with me."

* * *

Archduke Charlemagne Bolivar didn't like to be disturbed in the middle of the night. But he realized that if the newly appointed Lieutenant of his personal guard interrupted his long anticipated leave and came back to wake him up in the wee hours of the morning it was important. Or the said Lieutenant suddenly developed a very non-Nietzschean death wish. So Bolivar growled at his servant, pulled on a robe and walked in his sitting room. And almost fainted. Charlemagne Bolivar did not believe in ghosts, but what other explanation could there be? In the middle of his sitting room stood Doctor Gillian Ratischer, Dylan Hunt's dead fiancée. Correction, if she stood in front of him she couldn't be dead, could she? He sped up his pace and walked up to her:

"Gillian, what happened to you?" On closer look he saw that she looked terrible. She was too thin, her skin was almost translucent and bruised, marks old and new, the freshest one on her right cheekbone. The dress and makeup suggested what she has been doing for a living. She didn't look up and didn't answer his question, so he asked again:

"Doctor Ratischer, what happened?" She raised her head slightly and said: "Forgive me, my Lord, but I do not know the person you are talking about."

"Gillian? What is going on? You don't know your name?"

"I am a slave, my Lord. I do not need a name."

At this moment Elsbett walked in from her rooms, woken up by all the commotion. She saw the woman and stopped, shocked:

"Gillian, you are alive! How did you get here?" Gillian, as everyone insisted on calling her, looked distressed. She started shaking and crying and backed into a corner of the room. Hugging herself she almost screamed: "I don't know! I don't remember anything! I don't remember! I don't know who I am! I don't know!"

Bolivar pressed the comm link: "Get Doctor Pascal in my quarters now." He approached Gillian carefully.

"Calm down, please. We don't want to hurt you, we want to help." He motioned for others to clear the room. It seemed to calm her down a little and Charlemagne moved a little closer. "Please, relax. I called a doctor, he is going to look at you, ok?" She nodded. She knew she didn't really have a choice in the matter, so maybe if she complied she wouldn't get hurt. Much.

Doctor Pascal entered the room and walked over to her. He saw Elsbett and Yassir on his way and was prepared. He took out the hypo-injector and swiftly pressed it into her neck. She went limp in an instant and would have collapsed on the floor but Bolivar caught her and put her on the couch.

Doctor Pascal looked her over quickly: "What a shame. I can't tell much without detailed examination, but this woman was hurt and abused badly." Bolivar looked grim. He punched a code on the comm panel: "Get me through to Captain Hunt. Now. Tell him it is urgent." He turned to the doctor: "Make sure she is well taken care of. I would suspect Hunt will be on his way as soon as I speak to him." The older Nietzschean nodded: "I will do my best, sir." He stepped outside and brought in his aids and a stretcher for Gillian. Bolivar called Yassir in and sat down to speak to him.

* * *

Tyr and Dylan were standing in the anteroom of the infirmary. Doctor Pascal insisted that he was to be present when they go in and see Gillian.

"Captain, Mr. Anasazi, I need you to understand that Doctor Ratischer has no memory of her past. She most likely wouldn't recognize you. I have established some semblance of a relationship with her; at least she is not afraid of me any more. She is confused. I am sure Archduke had told you where she worked when Lieutenant Yassir found her."

Tyr growled, his jaw tense, and Dylan just said a hoarse "Yes". Doctor continued: "She was hurt and abused. I am warning you now so you do not overreact. She may or may not be afraid of either of you. If she shows any sign of distress I wan you to leave immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Very well, we can go in now."

They walked in and Dylan's heart caught in his throat. He felt his knees give and knew he would have fallen, but he felt Tyr's hand on his shoulder and somehow it gave him strength. Gillian was laying in bed asleep. She was so thin; it made her look child-like. Her face and arms were covered by faded bruises, although the one on her cheekbone was fresh. Something caught Tyr's attention. He moved closer and lifted the sleeve of her robe, exposing the shoulder. There was a half-healed brand and when Tyr looked at it he visibly paled: "Drago-Kazov. She was taken by their slavers. Dylan, most likely it was not an accident." Doctor Pascal was shocked: "You mean someone targeted Doctor Ratischer? Why?"

Dylan looked weary. "Could be a number of reasons. We will discuss it later, right now I want to spend some time with her."

Tyr nodded his agreement. Dylan sat in the chair next to the bed and took Gillian's hand. She stirred but didn't wake up. He just sat there, holding her hand for a while, and then her eyes fluttered opened. He saw fear in them, something he was not used to seeing in her eyes before. She drew her hand back and clutched at the covers. Doctor Pascal spoke in soothing voice: "Gillian, these are your friends. No one will hurt you, I promise." She nodded and looked at Dylan, then at Tyr. She spoke to Dylan:

"You are not Nietzschean."

"No, I am not. I am human, like you."

"Are you also a slave?"

"No, I am not. And neither are you. Do you not remember me?"

"No, I am sorry, I don't. But you have kind eyes. I am not afraid of you. You will not hurt me."

"No, I will never hurt you, nor I will let anyone hurt you ever again."

Faint smile. She looked at him: "Your hair looks strange."

"Yes, I know. It got this way when you... When I thought you had died."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It just happened."

"You got upset because you thought I died?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We'll talk about it later, when you feel better."

"I feel fine now, why won't you tell me?"

Tyr and Doctor Pascal left the room. Dylan sighed:

"I loved -- love you very much. We were engaged to be married. When I thought you were dead something happened to me. It was like I couldn't go on living any longer. For three days I was -- I honestly don't know what I was doing. I lost these three days. When I looked in the mirror I saw this." And he touched the white streak in his hair. Gillian looked thoughtful.

"I am sorry I caused you pain." Dylan laughed bitterly.

"You shouldn't apologize to me. I am happy to have you back, Gillian."

"Even though I do not remember you -- us?"

"I am just glad you are alive. You have many friends on my ship, they all miss you."

"Your ship?"

"Yes, I am a starship Captain."

"Incredible."

"Would you come back to Andromeda with me?"

"Andromeda is your ship?"

"Yes."

"I'd like that. Would you tell me about me?"

"Yes."

He proceeded to tell Gillian about her, her father, her work, and their adventures. He talked for hours and by the time he was finished he almost lost his voice. Gillian looked shocked:

"All that happened to us? To me?"

"It absolutely did." Tyr walked in and smiled at her: "All that and much more. Dylan was kind enough to leave my part of the story to me." She looked up at the dark-skinned Nietzschean:

"You are different. You are not Jaguar and not Dragan." The last name mentioned made Tyr growl. Gillian looked terrified and he stopped himself:

"I am sorry. I get upset when the latter are mentioned."

"I didn't mean to upset you, sir, I am sorry." Tyr came closer and crouched next to her bed:

"My name is Tyr. Tyr Anasazi of Kodiak Pride out of Victoria by Barbarossa. You and I were very good friends. You saved my life many times. Please, do not be afraid of me. I will never do anything to harm you. And I promise, when I find those who did this to you," he pointed to her brand, "may the Divine have mercy on them because I will not."

Gillian touched his face gently: "I do feel like I know you. It's lurking somewhere and I can't catch it but the feeling is strong."

Tyr smiled gently, something Dylan never saw him do, and kissed Gillian's hand. He got up swiftly and turned to Dylan:

"Are you staying here?"

"Yes."

"I am going to the Maru then, I have to see Rebecca." Dylan nodded. He understood Tyr's need to see his mate. They haven't gone through the official Helix ceremony but they were mates nevertheless.

Gillian was tired and soon she fell asleep again. Dylan was escorted to his rooms. The bar in the anteroom was fully stocked and he was very glad to find a bottle of a very good Scotch. No sooner than he poured himself a drink the door access chimed. When Dylan opened the door he saw Hirohito Koyasaba standing in the hallway.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Captain Hunt, but there is something I need to talk to you about. It is about Doctor Ratischer and her, shall I say, unusual abilities."

Dylan looked at him wearily and stepped aside to let his visitor in.

Onward To Part Three!
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