| A
Long Shadow |
TITLE: A Long Shadow
AUTHOR: Tiffany Park
EMAIL: twilite@sprynet.com
STATUS: Complete
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama, H/C, follows "Blue Bloods."
SPOILERS: "Exalted Reason, Resplendent Daughter," "The Torment,
The Release."
SEASON: Season Four
PAIRINGS: None
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT WARNINGS: Language, violence
SUMMARY: An automated gun shoots down the Eureka Maru, leaving Beka and
Rhade wounded and helpless in an asteroid belt. Follows "Blue Bloods."
ARCHIVE: Please ask.
DISCLAIMER: Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda and its characters are the property
of Fireworks Entertainment, Tribune Entertainment, Global, and MBR Productions
Inc. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged
hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations,
and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere
without the consent of the author.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beka groaned as pain forced her into wakefulness. Her left leg demanded attention, pulsing out its agony with every beat of her heart. Through her discomfort, she noticed that she was lying face down on something hard and unyielding. The Maru's deck, probably. It felt cool against her cheek. She tried to open her eyes, but they put up too much of a fight. She left them closed.
For a while, she just lay quietly, breathing with the pain. The acrid scent of burned insulation tickled her nostrils. Her eyes flew open, and she saw a faint haze in the air.
With effort, she called out, "Rhade?" but got no reply.
She levered herself up on her elbows. Her leg shrieked as she moved. She whimpered, then set her jaw in determination. "Rhade? Damn it, answer me!"
She couldn't see the pilot's station from her current position. Painfully, using her arms and her one good leg, she dragged herself along the deck. Every movement stoked the fire in her left leg, and she almost screamed as she felt something inside it shift and grate. It's broken, she realized, and clenched her teeth as she maneuvered her protesting body around a console.
The pilot's seat came into view. Rhade was slumped in the restraining straps. Only the slight movements of his flank told her he was still breathing. She called his name a few more times, but didn't garner so much as a single twitch in response.
"Out like a light," she muttered in disgust.
Against her better judgment, she'd let that damned Nietzschean pilot her baby. And what was her reward for such generosity? A crashed spaceship. Both of them injured.
So much for discretion.
Dylan had asked her and Rhade to take the Maru and hop on over to Valerie's Last Chance. There had been complaints of pirate activity in nearby areas, and Dylan had wanted to know if that planet was involved.
"Be discreet. Stay out of trouble," Dylan had said. "Just see if there's a problem, then come back and report. We'll worry about what to do only if you find something."
Valerie's Last Chance. Beka would have loved to know how the planet had earned that particular name, but she never got the opportunity to ask any of its inhabitants. The Eureka Maru had triggered some kind of auto-defense in the system's asteroid belt and been shot to hell. The last thing Beka remembered was seeing a rocky, airless planetoid looming in front of her ship, growing larger and larger--
Then nothing. Until now.
"Guess we found something, huh, Dylan?" she said out loud, for no better reason than to hear a friendly voice.
A moan sounded. Beka saw Rhade lift his head and gingerly rub his brow. "Welcome back, Rhade," she said, trying to be arch. Her voice was too weak, though, and the attempt fell flat.
"Beka?" With labored movements, Rhade released the seat restraints. He got up, groaned, and sat back down abruptly. "Are you all right?"
"Aside from assorted bruises and contusions, and, oh yes, a broken leg, I'm just dandy. Thanks for asking." That's right, Valentine, never miss an opportunity to shoot your mouth off during an emergency. Sarcasm helped keep the panic at bay, though.
Rhade muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
Beka said, "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."
"Good," he said. He checked his instrument panels and spoke in a businesslike tone. "Well, the good news is we're still in one piece, more or less. No sign of hostile ships in the area, so we get to stay in one piece for a little while longer."
"And the bad news?"
"We took a fair amount of damage, but fortunately our hull integrity is intact. Primary thrusters are shot. Generators at twenty percent capacity, enough to maintain life support, at least. Communications are damaged; we can receive, but we can't transmit. A couple of electrical fires broke out, but the fire suppression system extinguished them before they became dangerous."
"Ah. That's why I'm smelling burned insulation." She shifted some of her weight from one elbow to the other. "Can we get off this rock under our own power?"
He studied the readouts. "No."
"So you broke my baby."
"Technically, whoever set up that gun on the asteroid broke your ship, not me."
"Details."
He made some adjustments to the instruments, then tried to stand up again. This time his effort was successful, although Beka noticed he kept a hand on the console to steady himself.
"How are you doing, Rhade?" she asked as he turned in her direction. Her concern grew when she saw the ugly gash on his forehead, and the streaks of blood along the side of his face. The injury was bruised and swollen, and sluggishly oozed crimson fluid. We are a fine pair of invalids, she thought. Her broken leg throbbed its agreement.
"I'm fine," he replied.
"It's a good thing Nietzscheans have hard heads."
"Harper would have come up with a more creative insult than that." He started toward her. He swayed slightly, and kept grabbing for handholds wherever he could.
"Yeah, well, I guess I'm just not as imaginative as Harper." She shrugged, then hissed as even that small motion jostled her broken leg. "So sue me."
With a sigh, Rhade sat down beside her. He gave her a quick once-over. "We need to do something about that leg. It doesn't look very good."
"I doubt I helped it when I dragged my ass over here."
"You shouldn't have moved," he said reprovingly. "You probably made it worse."
Beka's surge of annoyance briefly masked the pain. "You didn't answer when I called, so I wanted to see if you were still alive. What can I say? I'm a sucker like that, you know?"
Rhade gave her an unreadable look. He unsteadily got to his feet and lurched to a cabinet, where he extracted the first aid kit. Then he returned to her side.
"First an analgesic, I think. Killing the pain should help with your temper," he said, rummaging through the kit.
"I have a very sweet temper."
He snorted at that blatant lie, and injected something into her leg. Closing her eyes, she exhaled with relief as the throbbing pain ebbed away. She lowered her body to the deck.
"This is a pretty good kit," he commented. "It won't replace Andromeda's Med Deck or a wide-spectrum dose of medical nanobots, but we should be able to patch ourselves up reasonably well."
"Trance packs only the best," Beka said drowsily. She rested her cheek against the cool metal, feeling incredibly relaxed. Almost asleep, in fact. Obviously, he'd given her some damn fine drugs. She opened her eyes and pushed herself back up on her elbows. "So, Rhade, what now?"
"Now we take care of your leg." He eyed her injured limb. "How does it feel?"
"Numb," she said. "Can't feel a thing."
"Good. It'll make this easier."
"I hope you know what you're doing."
"I've had the standard series of battlefield first aid training courses with both the Commonwealth High Guard and Tarazed's Home Guard. As well as a certain amount of practical experience. I'm no physician, but I can splint a broken leg."
Beka's eyelids fluttered closed. She let herself lie flat, face down on the deck, and pillowed her head on folded arms. "Just don't mess it up," she murmured as she drifted into sleep.
* * * * * * *
When Beka woke she was still lying on the Maru's deck. Now, though, she was on her back, looking up at the overhead plating. Something soft cushioned her head and body, and a blanket had been draped over her. Her left leg ached, but in a distant way that was manageable.
She propped herself up on her elbows in a semi-sitting position. The softness beneath her proved to be a blanket, folded to provide some padding and insulation from the deck. Likewise the pillow was another folded blanket. Neatly stacked nearby were enough supplies to last several days: water, packaged food, weapons.
At first she was surprised that Rhade hadn't taken her to the Maru's sleeping quarters, where she could rest in more comfort. Then good sense prevailed. He needed to stay by the pilot's station and its instruments, and had undoubtedly wanted her where he could keep an eye on her. Besides, given the shaky way he'd been moving, she doubted he could carry her far, anyway.
"Nice job, Rhade," she said, resisting the urge to peek under the blanket. She didn't really want to see her leg yet. Maybe in a little while. "I feel a hundred times better."
When she didn't get a response, she looked around, feeling a dreadful sense of deja vu.
Rhade sat on the deck a few feet away, resting against the bulkhead, his eyes closed. He had cleaned the blood from his face, and applied a dressing to the wound on his brow. Beka saw red stains on the bandage.
She remembered how unsteady he had been earlier, and frowned. The man had a head injury, maybe even a concussion. She hoped it was relatively minor. He'd seemed pretty coherent before, but she hadn't been in any condition to judge his behavior objectively. Still, she knew repeated unconsciousness wasn't good. Assuming, of course, that he wasn't just "resting his eyes."
"You'd better not be asleep," she said sharply. "Rhade!"
He opened his eyes and gave her an exasperated look. "I was hoping you'd stay unconscious until the Andromeda arrived."
"Have you heard from them?"
He slowly shook his head. "We're not overdue, yet. They probably won't start looking for us for another day, at least." He leaned his head back against the bulkhead and shut his eyes again.
"Keep those eyes open, Rhade," Beka said. "I don't want you going into a coma on me, or dying, or anything like that."
"I assure you, I have no intention of doing anything so upsetting." His eyes stayed closed, though.
"Give me a break. I'm afraid you might have a concussion, and that makes sleeping a very bad idea."
"Only if I don't wake up again."
"That's what I'm talking about!" She balanced herself on one elbow, held out her other hand, and waggled three fingers. "Come on, now, how many fingers am I holding up?"
Rhade squinted at her. "Three or four. Three, I think. The fourth one just went away."
"Oh, great. You do have a concussion." She dropped her hand.
"Let's see... Nausea, dizziness, blurred vision. Not to mention a splitting headache. Yes, I do believe you've made the correct diagnosis, Doctor Valentine."
"Smartass." Beka scowled at him. "You gave me medication and splinted my leg, and you couldn't see straight the whole time?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I was doing fine until the adrenaline wore off." He frowned absently. "Or maybe it just took a while for the symptoms to show up."
Beka gave him an incredulous look. She didn't like the way that sounded at all. "That's it. From this point on, no sleeping for you. That's an order, mister."
"It would be interesting to see you try to enforce it." He smiled and shifted his position. "However, since you're worried, I don't think the damage is too bad. I haven't vomited, or lost motor control, or had any of the more disturbing symptoms."
Beka rolled her eyes. "Don't get the wrong idea, Rhade. I'm not being sentimental. As you may have noticed, I'm pretty much immobilized." She gestured in the direction of her broken leg. "You, on the other hand, can still get around the ship. To survive, I need you alive and functional."
Rhade nodded, looking not the least bit offended by that speech. "A very Nietzschean attitude. I approve."
"You would."
A strident pinging sounded from the forward controls. "That's the proximity alarm," Beka said.
Rhade pushed himself to his feet. "I set it on automatic before I fixed your leg. I didn't want any surprises."
"Good thinking," Beka said.
He staggered across the flight deck to the pilot's seat. Beka narrowed her eyes at his jerky movements and difficulties staying upright. "I suppose it wouldn't do to have pirates drop in on us unannounced," she said. "This way, at least we'll know they're coming before they blow a hole in the hull."
Rhade almost fell into the chair and shut off the alarm. He scanned the instruments. "Just one ship. They haven't tried to hail us. They're moving. Range: ten thousand klicks." He was silent for a moment, then said, "They aren't necessarily pirates, Beka."
"We set off their trap. Who else would they be?"
"It could be a legitimate patrol. For all we know, the inhabitants of Valerie's Last Chance set up a protective perimeter against the pirates, and we just stumbled into it."
"A legitimate patrol would try to contact us," Beka pointed out. "They also would have set up some warning beacons, so innocent bystanders like us don't get shot down by mistake. I don't know about you, but I don't consider booby-traps a sign of friendly, civilized people, and I'd rather not meet anyone who thinks they're a good idea."
Rhade grunted in agreement. "With a little luck, they won't even know we're here. I set the alert to use passive sensors only; we aren't actively scanning our friends out there. We shouldn't have drawn any attention."
His hands danced over the controls. Whatever problems his head injury might be giving him, he still knew his way around an instrument panel. Beka said, "Other than triggering their booby-trap, you mean?"
Rhade ignored her remark. "They're still moving," he reported. "New range: six thousand klicks. Five thousand. Now four. Five thousand. Six again." He watched the instruments intently. "It looks like they're circling out there."
"Looking for us," Beka stated with certainty. Things just kept getting worse and worse.
"From the distance and the wide search pattern they're following, I'd say they don't know where we are. Their weapon must have lost its lock on us when we crashed."
The seconds stretched out into an agonizing eternity. Rhade stayed absolutely still at the controls, not speaking, just watching the display. Beka prayed his blurry vision was up to the task, that he wouldn't miss anything important. That he didn't do something stupid like pass out.
But would it matter if he did? What could either of them do about the situation? The Maru was dead in the water; she and Rhade were both injured. They had some weapons, sure, but they were hardly a match for a pack of well-armed, motivated brigands.
She regulated her breathing, trying to prevent her thoughts from running wild with worst case scenarios. Obviously, the pirates--or whoever had set that booby-trap--knew their gun had been activated, that they'd shot a ship down. Now they were searching for wreckage. At the very least, they'd want to cover up the evidence. They'd probably eliminate any survivors, salvage whatever equipment and supplies were of value to them, and shove what was left of her ship into the sun.
Beka gave herself a mental shake. So much for keeping her imagination under control.
If they were pirates, they were probably hoping for a commercial freighter, she told herself. Something big, that would have lots of nice, expensive cargo in its hold. They probably weren't interested in a small salvage ship. The Maru might be overlooked. Hey, she could always hope.
"They're moving off." Rhade blew out a long, harsh-sounding breath. "They're heading away from us, out into the asteroid belt."
"Back to their lair," Beka said.
"Or it's another trap. Perhaps they've pulled back to see if we'll reveal ourselves by trying to run."
Beka laughed without humor. "That plan doesn't have much chance for success."
Rhade was silent again. Then he said, "They're off the grid. I can't track them now without using active, directed scans."
Active sensors would alert the pirates to their location just as surely as an attempt to run would. Beka sighed. "Well, that's it. There's nothing we can do except wait it out and hope Dylan finds us before the bad guys."
"He will."
Rhade actually sounded confident of that. Beka hoped he was right. They didn't have many options. She briefly toyed with a few ideas for repairing the Maru, but regretfully abandoned all of them. She might be able to stand and maybe hop around for short stretches of time--if she was feeling particularly tough or masochistic--but she certainly couldn't move freely enough to handle the kind of work involved. Nor would she have the endurance required.
She watched Rhade laboriously rise from the pilot's station and make his way back to her. He hadn't suggested attempting repairs, either, which led her to believe that he didn't feel he could manage any better than she could. Or perhaps what was required was simply beyond his skill. Where was Harper when you needed him?
Even if they could somehow get the Maru flight capable, there was still the problem of the pirates. Who apparently were looking for the ship their nasty little gun had shot down. Their sensor arrays obviously weren't up to snuff, but sooner or later the Maru would be spotted.
She shifted; her elbows were getting tired from supporting her weight for so long. "Hey, Rhade, I'd like to sit up for a while. Think you could give me a hand?"
He helped her settle into a more comfortable position, with her back resting against the bulkhead. She couldn't hold back a gasp as her leg made known its displeasure at being moved.
Rhade sat down next to her and dug into the first aid kit. "Sounds like you could use another shot."
"Can you see straight enough to manage that?" she asked with asperity.
"Would you rather do it yourself?" came the exasperated response. "Relax, I can handle it."
Beka considered him. He seemed steady enough right now. "Fine. But don't give me anything that'll knock me out again," she said. If she ended up unconscious, who would keep an eye on Rhade?
"Don't worry," he said as he administered the injection into her leg. "Better?" He packed up the kit again, then leaned his head against the bulkhead and closed his eyes.
Beka sighed as the pain receded. "Much better." She shot a sharp glance at him. "What did I tell you about falling asleep? Knock it off."
He gave her a weary but reproachful glare.
She said, "Don't look at me like that. Like I said before, you're my means of surviving this disaster." She tilted her head. "How'd you get that bump on the noggin, anyway? Weren't you strapped in?" she needled him, knowing full well that he had followed all the proper safety procedures.
"Of course I was." He looked annoyed for a moment, then just shrugged. "Some piece of equipment came loose when we crashed. I saw it flying at me, but I guess I didn't react fast enough. It happened pretty fast. I don't even remember getting hit. And the whiplash when the Maru actually collided with this damned rock probably didn't help matters any."
"Ah." She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed several times. His color had faded alarmingly. "Rhade, are you all right? You look kind of green."
"Excuse me." He got up and lurched aft, moving in the direction of the head. She heard him retching.
"Guess that head injury's worse than you're letting on," Beka murmured.
* * * * * * *
After a while, Rhade returned to the flight deck and, without saying a word, dropped down next to Beka. She took one look at his controlled, tight-lipped expression, and opted to hold her tongue. For now.
They sat quietly, not speaking. Beka felt completely wiped out. Analgesic shots might keep the pain of her injuries at bay, but they couldn't help with the physical exhaustion that accompanied the wounds. Despite her best intentions, she feared she might nod off at any time. She couldn't stop herself from worrying about the pirates. Or from wondering when Dylan might show up. Or from fretting about Rhade.
She hoped he'd be okay, but everything she knew about head injuries told her that vomiting was a pretty bad sign. She glanced at his ears and nose, seeking signs of blood or other fluids. They looked dry, but for all she knew he'd cleaned them up and kept the ugly details hidden from her. As she watched, his eyes closed again and his head drooped forward.
"Rhade, wake up!" she snapped.
For the first time, he didn't respond to her order. Beka felt the stirrings of real panic. "Rhade! Damn it, wake up!" She grabbed his shoulder and gave him a shake. His head jerked up, and he stared at her in confusion.
"Beka, what?" he said. He blinked owlishly.
"You lost consciousness," she said. "And don't try to tell me you were just resting your eyes. Look at me!" she added, when he started to turn his face away.
Obediently, he looked straight at her. She peered at his pupils. The right one appeared larger than the left. "Damn," she said. "Rhade, this isn't good."
"I know," he said, quietly but calmly. "I can feel it. My thinking's getting fuzzy, and my eyesight is worse. So is my headache. I'm afraid you may have to get along without me eventually."
"Don't even think that," she growled. "Suppose the pirates find us? What the hell am I going to do about it?"
"You should have your sidearm ready, in case they decide to board us."
"And two guns would be better than one in that unpleasant little scenario. So stay with me, Rhade, okay?"
He nodded.
Damn, she needed to keep the fool awake. He seemed to do better when they were talking. Maybe if she got him riled up, really angry with her... She searched her mind for topics, and hit on one right away. "How about we keep chatting? Will that help?"
"It might," he admitted. "What do you want to talk about?"
She grinned. "Satisfy my vulgar curiosity. How many wives do you have?"
"What?"
"You heard me. You were a pretty important person on Tarazed. I'd think that a Nietzschean of your stature would have acquired quite a few. I know this is something Nietzschean males like to brag about, so come on, give. How many?"
He hesitated, and looked away. "At the moment? None."
"None? You're kidding, right? That's awfully strange for you guys."
"It's a long story."
Beka regarded him seriously. "It wouldn't have anything to do with why you're not a big shot on Tarazed anymore, would it?"
He looked at her, all traces of drowsiness replaced by surprise.
"Oh, come on, Rhade," she said. "Of course I've been wondering about that. We've all wondered. It's a favorite topic of gossip on the Andromeda."
"I think I should be offended."
"Probably. So what's the deal with the demotion?"
"What makes you think I view it as a demotion? Tarazed did become part of a greater whole, after all."
Beka snorted her disbelief at the attempted evasion. "Give me a little credit, Rhade. Tarazed might have finally joined the Commonwealth, but you were the commander of Tarazed's entire military. Not to mention one of the Isolationist Movement's leaders. People like that do not settle for crumbs."
He rubbed his forehead, looking pained. "You're thinking of your mother."
"Damn straight I am. The rich and powerful like to remain rich and powerful, unless they're slumming or going for a thrill ride. And even then it's just a temporary inconvenience to them."
"Now I am offended."
Maybe so, but he was also awake and reasonably alert. Beka decided to probe further, keep him annoyed. Besides, she was honestly curious. "Admirals either stay admirals, or they retire and move into high level civilian positions in government or industry--usually the defense industry--or they retire, write memoirs, and go on the lecture circuit. Same deal with politicians." She caught and held his gaze. "You were both an admiral and a politician, yet you did none of those things. What else should I think?"
"Your list is far from complete. Sometimes admirals and politicians simply retire and, as you humans say, smell the roses," Rhade pointed out.
"But you didn't do that, either. So what happened, Rhade?"
For a moment she thought he would refuse to answer, but then he exhaled loudly. "Politics."
"Politics? The Isolationists lost out, so you got forced out?"
"Not quite in that order."
Beka was surprised by that statement. Rhade had been a well-respected person on Tarazed. Why would he be forced out of his position? "This sounds like an interesting story. Care to share?"
"Not really."
"Oh, come on. You know about my sordid history with my exalted, upper crust mother. Fair's fair. Spill the dirt, and we'll be even."
He stared into the distance, his features a stoic mask that was occasionally broken by brief flashes of some indecipherable emotion. Finally he grimaced, and gave in with a tiny shrug. "There's not much to it. I have the wrong ancestor, and the wrong face. When the truth about Gaheris Rhade's betrayal of Dylan Hunt became public, it created an impressive scandal with unfortunate repercussions."
"You're kidding." Beka gawked at him, incredulous. She half expected to see him cock an amused eyebrow at her, or smile, or do something to indicate that he was pulling her leg, but his expression was dead serious. "They held that against you? It happened three hundred years ago, and you didn't have anything to do with it. It's ancient history."
"You obviously don't appreciate Dylan's status on Tarazed. The colony was founded with the indisputable knowledge that he would return to reestablish the Systems Commonwealth. Tarazed's original purpose was to preserve the Commonwealth's institutions for him. Every schoolchild learns about him. Much of the culture revolves around him and his mission. He's revered, even...mythic, in a way."
"Sounds obsessive."
Rhade smiled, but there was no humor in it. "After three hundred years, such things become institutionalized. However, the Kalderan attacks influenced many people's attitudes, and the Isolationist Movement came into being. We didn't particularly want to get involved with the rest of the universe, or find ourselves embroiled in other people's wars."
"Can't say I blame you." Beka smirked. "Dylan was pretty annoyed about it, though."
"I can't ever forget that." He hesitated, staring down at his hands with a troubled look on his face. "Free thought and expression were important features of the old Commonwealth that were preserved, as well as democracy. Those things are cherished even more than the legend of Dylan Hunt, which is why we managed to keep our home independent for as long as we did. But I won't say it was easy for any of us. Dylan's a cultural icon on Tarazed."
"And you're all indoctrinated to some extent," Beka said. That explained a lot of Rhade's early behavior, when he had first joined the Andromeda's crew. All that hero worship hadn't just been calculated butt kissing, after all. Must have been tough on him, having to deal with that kind of baggage, while being confronted on a daily basis with the "cultural icon" himself, warts and all. Not to mention working with crewmates who didn't worship the ground Dylan walked on, and had no sympathy for such an attitude.
"When the truth about my ancestor came out, my opponents had a political free-for-all. My face represented the most heinous treachery imaginable on Tarazed: the betrayal of Dylan Hunt. Emotionalism took over, and was used to guide the public response. I don't think you can really understand what that was like."
"Since I wasn't brought up to view Dylan as some kind of prophesied messiah, no, I can't," Beka said, appalled. "He'd say it's ridiculous, too."
Rhade wasn't paying attention, though. He stared into space, glassy-eyed, caught up in the past. "It became impossible to do my job effectively, and there were certain...pressures applied. I resigned my commission and stepped down from all public responsibilities, but the damage had already been done. The Isolationists lost much of their credibility. You must understand, through me they had become associated with Gaheris Rhade's betrayal of Dylan Hunt. Their stated aim of keeping Tarazed out of the Commonwealth came to be viewed as another such betrayal. They lost the next election, and Tarazed joined the Commonwealth."
"Ouch." Beka touched his arm. "Rhade, I don't know what to say. That was a hell of a way for the Commonwealth to gain a new member world. It wasn't fair, the way you were used. You got a raw deal. I'm sorry."
"My family and pride were also dreadfully embarrassed. I was...encouraged...to disassociate myself from them, to spare them further disgrace." He lifted his head defiantly. "I resolved to treat the situation as a learning experience, a chance for growth, to gain strength. To overcome the new challenges."
"How very Nietzschean." For once, Beka approved of the Nietzschean mindset.
"To quote the great philosopher, 'that which does not kill me makes me stronger.' It seemed an appropriate attitude to take."
"So you decided to start over, make a new life for yourself by joining the Commonwealth's High Guard."
He nodded slowly. "To redeem myself, prove my genetic value again, and be worthy of my family. To continue to defend my homeworld in the only way left to me. To be judged for my own actions, not my ancestor's." His expression grew hard. "Instead, I became a pawn, used by enemies and corrupt officials against the very man my ancestor betrayed," he said bitterly. "All because I am Gaheris Rhade's genetic reincarnation. Even my new commission-- I didn't go into the High Guard at the bottom, you know. Ostensibly, that was because of my previous position on Tarazed, but..." He looked wearily at Beka. "Did you know that my new rank is exactly one grade lower than my not-so-illustrious ancestor's was when he tried to murder Dylan? The significance isn't lost on me."
Beka winced. It sure sounded like someone had wanted to make a point. "So much for live and let live."
"Indeed." Rhade slumped against the bulkhead. He looked worn, run down, and his eyes were unfocused. Beka was dismayed by his story, and wondered if this conversation had been such a good idea, after all. It had kept him alert, but the price had been high. She attributed his surprising candor to lowered defenses resulting from his head injury, and felt a little guilty. She had known he wasn't up to speed when she had started prying.
"Look, Rhade, for what it's worth, Dylan doesn't hold any of that against you. None of us do. You know that," she said urgently. She couldn't help but identify with him. Her mother's behavior, and her own fears and resentments about how that behavior reflected on her, assured that. "We do judge you by your own actions."
"Perhaps," he said listlessly. "But I know Dylan can't help but think of Gaheris every time he looks at me."
She couldn't think of anything to say to that stark truth. Even after three hundred years, Gaheris Rhade continued to cast a long shadow. Over Dylan, and now over a descendant the long-dead Nietzschean had never even met.
Nonetheless, she didn't believe for a minute that Dylan had a problem with Rhade's presence. Just the opposite, in fact. From what she'd seen, Dylan liked having his old friend's genetic twin on board. His spirit seemed a little lighter, somehow. Maybe he remembered the good times when he looked at Telemachus Rhade.
Now that Beka thought on it, she couldn't recall many instances at all of Dylan being disturbed or conflicted about Rhade. The most vivid had occurred back when they'd first met and Rhade had opposed Tarazed's entry into the new Commonwealth. She didn't know all the details of their interactions, but after Dylan's anger and resentment had passed, his mood had been subdued for a long while.
Due to her dealings with Tyr, she hadn't been on board when Dylan had surrendered Rhade to Tri-Lorn, but Harper had gleefully filled her in on all the gory details. Dylan's problem then hadn't been with Rhade, but with the Commonwealth. Dylan's apparent acquiescence to the Triumvirs' demands had been a test, she knew, and the Commonwealth's leaders had failed miserably. Dylan hadn't been pleased to discover Rhade had been handed over to the Collector Pish, and even less pleased when Pish had used Rhade as a bargaining chip to try to gain the star map to the Route of Ages. She wished she could have been there for the big rescue. From what she'd heard, Dylan had had a grand old time breaking Rhade out of Pish's brig.
From then on, Dylan had protected Rhade from the Commonwealth's so-called justice, even to the point of standing trial himself in Pish and the Triumvirs' kangaroo court. Rhade was right about his being a pawn, but Dylan had known and understood the situation, had willingly and deliberately stepped into the trap rather than let his enemies get their claws back into his newest shipmate. As a result, Dylan had split the Commonwealth, sparking a civil war, and the entire crew had all been declared outlaws.
Beka didn't pretend to understand Dylan's state of mind in regards to Rhade, but based on prior evidence, she was certain that Rhade's reading of the situation was inaccurate, or at the very least, incomplete.
"Look, you don't need to be so neurotic about this," she said. "Dylan's gone to a lot of trouble to keep you on the Andromeda. He's defied the Commonwealth for you, more than once and at a significant cost. You know this. So, honestly, I'm pretty sure he's okay with having you around."
Rhade avoided her eyes. "Perhaps," he repeated softly. He looked like he was going to add something, then apparently changed his mind and stared down at his hands, masking his expression so well that Beka could read nothing in his features.
She'd give a lot to know what he was thinking just now. She watched him, but no more painful revelations were forthcoming. The discussion was over, which she felt was just as well. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, desperately wishing she could erase the conversation from her memory.
* * * * * * *
The pair sat in silence. Beka's mind roiled, unable to settle down after hearing Rhade's story. Guilt and speculations surged and ebbed. After a while, her broken leg started to complain again. The ache irritated her, but she didn't reach for the first aid kit and its pain-killers. Not yet. The light pain was a welcome distraction.
Rhade drew in a deep breath, exhaled it, and sagged against her. Alarmed, she turned to look at him. His head had fallen forward onto his chest. She was afraid he might tip over, and slipped an arm around his shoulders to keep him upright. She placed her other hand under his chin, lifted his head, and gently turned his face toward hers. "Rhade? Rhade, are you still in there?"
Slowly, his eyes opened. She let her hand fall away from his jaw. He stared at her, but it was obvious that he didn't really see her. His right pupil had dilated even more, and now obscured most of the dark brown iris.
She swallowed hard, and said, "Hey, come on, now. Stay with me. You can't leave me here all alone. What if the pirates come back?"
He grew more aware, and chuckled. "Space pirates wouldn't dare cross Beka Valentine." The words were slurred, but still understandable.
"I'm glad you think I'm so formidable."
"Formidable. Yes. You are," he murmured drowsily, his eyelids drifting closed.
She gave him a gentle shake and said, "Hey, Rhade. Wake up. You never answered my question."
"Question?"
"How many wives did you have, you know, um, before." Whereas earlier that question had seemed irreverent and amusing, now it made her want to squirm. She brazened it out anyway, in her desire to keep him at least partially conscious. "I've got money on this."
"Money?"
The short, vague responses worried her. "I made a bet with Harper, okay?" she confessed, hoping to get a rise out of him. "Help me out, here."
"A bet." He opened his eyes and smiled briefly. "Ten."
"You had ten wives?"'
He nodded in confirmation. At least, she thought it was a deliberate nod. It was getting hard to tell.
"Okay, ten. That's a lot." More than she had expected. Damn, now she owed Harper a hundred thrones. Not that she'd ever tell him, not when she'd gained the information under these circumstances.
"You win?"
"Yeah, I beat the spread," she lied, just to say something positive to him. "Harper's gonna be pissed."
"Glad to...help."
His words were growing more slurred. His head lolled, and she once more supported it with a hand under his chin. She was losing this battle, but she wouldn't give up without a fight.
"Harper and I had another bet, Rhade. About your children. How many do you have?" Children were the most important part of any Nietzschean's life. Nothing else compared. Surely he'd rouse for this question.
"My children?"
"Yes, Rhade, your children. Come on, think. How many children do you have?"
"My children," he crooned. "My beautiful children." A happy smile ghosted across his lips, then he went limp in Beka's arms.
"Rhade! C'mon, Rhade, wake up." She peered into his slack face. "Damn it, Rhade, I thought you Nietzscheans were supposed to be tough. You gonna let a little thing like a head injury take you down?" she said in frustration. Apparently so. At least he was still breathing.
All she could do now was hope Dylan and the Andromeda arrived before things got even worse. Defeated at last, she settled Rhade against her side, carefully placing his head on her shoulder. Then she steeled herself for the long wait.
* * * * * * *
Beka didn't know how long she'd been sitting half asleep, with her back braced against the bulkhead and her arms around Rhade. She'd been nodding off at irregular intervals, always waking with a sudden jerk of her head. She must have been at it for quite some time; the annoying ache in her broken leg had gradually increased, until it throbbed mercilessly and prevented her from snatching even the unsatisfactory rest of her light dozing. Now the pain was bad enough that she was forced to consider the cache of analgesics in the first aid kit.
Besides, she needed to move. Her arms had fallen asleep.
With a small sigh, she disentangled them from Rhade's unconscious form and gave her hands a shake. The pins and needles sensation hit her hard. She cursed at the discomfort, shook her hands again, and almost screamed when the movement jarred her leg.
She toughed it out for a few minutes, waiting for the pain to subside. She didn't really know why she hadn't just let herself cry out. Sheer stubbornness, she supposed. It wasn't like anyone would hear her. Rhade was so deeply unconscious that nothing she did evoked even the slightest reaction from him. She might as well give in and scream her head off next time.
She gave herself an injection, resettled Rhade into a more comfortable position, then leaned back and relaxed as the drug took effect. "Dylan, where are you?" she murmured into the quiet air. A foolish question. She knew he'd begin a search as soon as he realized the Maru was overdue. Beka could only hope that some other emergency didn't delay him.
Her eyelids drooped as the pain in her leg faded. Perhaps she'd get some more nap time in. If nothing else, it would make the time pass more quickly. There was nothing she could do, anyway. Rhade's head was a heavy weight on her shoulder. She rested her cheek against his hair and allowed her mind to drift.
Pinging shattered the silence.
Beka's eyes flew open as her head snapped up. She focused on the ominous sound of the proximity alarm. A ship was out there somewhere, maybe approaching the Maru. She craned her neck to get a look at the overhead monitor, but it remained blank. Whoever was coming wasn't bothering to initiate contact, so she could only assume they weren't the local patrol, or the Andromeda.
"The pirates, I presume," she said with humorless twist of her lips. She reached for the weapons Rhade had left on the deck beside her, picked up her force lance and checked it over. Fully loaded and charged. Beka B. Valentine would not go down without a struggle. "Here we go."
The pinging continued, relentlessly. Beka shifted uncomfortably, cursing her bad leg. She desperately wanted to check the instruments, watch the other vessel's movements, but she couldn't get to the pilot's station. Were the pirates approaching, or just circling out there like they had been before? She had no way to tell. She could only listen to the high-pitched, electronic sounds, and wait for something to happen.
She hated just sitting like this, not knowing what was going on outside her own ship. Whether her enemies were preparing to board the Maru, or just hull her and let the vacuum of space do their dirty work for them. Or even simply destroy her. As the seconds passed and the pinging went on, she hugged Rhade a little closer, gripped her force lance a little tighter, and mentally prepared herself for the worst.
Then the pinging stopped.
At first, Beka couldn't believe it. She strained her ears, but heard only the soft, almost inaudible hum of air recycling equipment. What had happened? Had the other ship moved off again? Had it merely been a false alarm, triggered by an innocent ship passing within range?
More seconds ticked by. Before Beka could relax, the proximity alarm started pinging again. She growled with a strange mixture of frustration and fear. "Damn it. Decide what you're going to do, already, will you?" she muttered to the other vessel's seemingly capricious captain.
The overhead monitor flashed into life. Beka gawked as Dylan's face appeared on the screen.
"Beka, Rhade," Dylan said. "I let you two go off on your own, and look at the trouble you get yourselves into. Incidentally, don't worry about your not-so-nice friends. They took off when we showed up and said hi. I guess they didn't like the odds."
"Dylan," Beka whispered. Talk about timing.
"I hope you're both all right, and you're not answering because your communications are damaged. In case you can hear me, sit tight, we're coming to get you. Don't shoot at us when we open the airlock, okay?" The monitor went blank again.
Beka stared at the dark screen for a long moment, then slowly set her force lance on the deck. She looked at Rhade. "Well, your faith was justified," she said fondly. "Dylan did get here in time."
* * * * * * *
Beka awoke to a pleasantly warm afterglow. Her nice, soft bed in Medical was a great deal more comfortable than a blanket on the Maru's hard deck. It felt lovely. She conceded that might have something to do with the drugs she'd been given, which had rendered her blissfully unconscious while Trance fixed her leg. She hadn't objected in the slightest; she'd had no desire to be awake while Trance aligned the broken ends of bone so the medical nanobots could do their work.
Now, she only felt the itchy achiness--or was that the achy itchiness?--as the bone was knitted back into a strong, solid whole. She lay quietly, drifting along in warmth and security, not wanting to open her eyes and face reality just yet.
Eventually, though, she could no longer shut out the world. Voices impinged on her consciousness.
"--hairline skull fracture," Trance was saying. "Cerebrospinal fluid leakage, hematoma, edema resulting in increased intracranial pressure. Severe concussion. It's fortunate he's Nietzschean. An unmodified human might not have survived."
That recitation was alarming in the extreme. Beka came fully awake. She opened her eyes and turned her head. Rhade was lying in the next bed, unconscious. Dylan and Trance stood over him.
"Will he be all right?" Dylan asked, giving voice to Beka's own urgent question.
"The physical injuries are almost healed," Trance said. "Now we just need to wait for him to wake up."
"What about side effects? Brain damage, memory--?"
Trance rested a hand on Dylan's arm. "All the tests indicate that he'll be fine, Dylan. He might have some limited memory loss, but aside from that--"
Beka sat up abruptly. "Memory loss? You mean amnesia?" The sudden change in altitude made her head swim. She groaned and rubbed her temple.
"Beka!" Trance was immediately by her side, pushing her back down onto the bed. "You should rest."
Dylan looked down at her. "I agree. You had a pretty rough time back on that planetoid. Take it easy."
Beka glared at them. "What about Rhade? Trance said he might have amnesia? How bad?"
Trance patted her shoulder. "It's nothing to worry about, Beka. Some minor memory loss is not unusual in cases like this. He'll be fine. He'll stay himself." Her lips turned up mischievously. "He won't forget you."
"Who could?" Dylan grumbled, but his expression was amused.
"How much will he forget?" Beka persisted.
Trance glanced over at Rhade. "If he has any memory loss at all, it will probably center around his most recent experiences." She looked back at Beka. "In this case, he may not remember how he was injured, or things that happened afterward. Then again, he may remember everything." She shrugged. "We won't know for sure until he tells us."
"So when will he wake up?"
Trance's smile was enigmatic. "When he feels like it."
"You're a big help," Beka said sarcastically, but she was reassured. She focused on Dylan. "Your timing was impeccable. I have a sneaking suspicion that you showed up in the nick of time."
"That's an understatement," Dylan said. "Those pirates had you dead in their sights. They were charging weapons. I think they planned to hull the Maru, then loot it."
Beka nodded. "That was my second worst scenario."
Dylan raised a querulous brow. "Only your second?"
"I figured the worst case was them just plain destroying the Maru. Thanks for arriving early. Why did you, by the way? We weren't expecting you so soon."
"You can thank Trance for that." Dylan put an arm around Trance and gave her a quick hug. "She suggested--very strongly, I might add--that we should go looking for you ahead of schedule. I've learned not to ignore her suggestions."
"And a good thing, too. Thank you," Beka said seriously. "Both of you." She looked at Rhade's sleeping face. "Sounds like your early arrival saved the day, even without a hostile pirate ship to contend with."
Dylan squeezed her shoulder sympathetically.
Beka said, "So, you two, how 'bout distracting this patient, huh? Tell me all about the pirates. Who were they? Did you find out where they came from?"
* * * * * * *
Rhade slept for the remainder of the day. During that time, Beka's leg finished healing. Now she rested, recovering her strength and her equanimity.
Harper dropped by the Med Deck for a visit. As usual, his irreverent mania cheered Beka up no end. She watched, amused, as he attempted to goad Rhade into consciousness with a series of off-color and highly insulting Nietzschean jokes, each one worse than the last. Beka couldn't help but laugh.
"Give it up, Harper," she said, grinning at his latest, dreadfully ribald offering. "If that didn't wake him up, nothing will. Not that I blame him. I'd probably stay unconscious, too, if those puerile excuses for humor were directed at me."
"It was worth a shot," Harper said. "Normally, he'd at least get annoyed."
Beka heard her friend's unspoken concern. It mirrored her own. To alleviate both their worries, she said, "Trance says he'll wake up on his own. He's just being contrary and taking his own sweet time to do it."
"Typical Nietzschean," Harper groused lightly. "They're all great big pains in the butt, even when they're asleep. So, when's Trance gonna spring you from this joint, huh? Your leg ought to be done healing by now."
"Yeah, it's ready to go. Feels fine, and works great." Beka demonstrated by moving the limb in question. "Trance wants me to stay for rest and observation. Strictly routine, or so she tells me."
"Hah. I bet she just wants some company around until Mister Congeniality here decides to wake up and rejoin the living."
Beka had wondered about that, herself. She considered it a rather thoughtful gesture. Trance had obviously recognized her concern and sense of responsibility, and provided Beka with an excuse to hang around Medical indefinitely.
Harper stayed a while longer, but finally had to leave. Eventually, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the sleep period, and Beka settled in for the night. The place became quiet. After admonishing Beka to rest, Trance retreated to her office, where she was no doubt keeping an eye on her patients via the Med Deck's monitoring system.
Beka lay back and stared at the overhead equipment and bulkhead. Shadows and silence wrapped around her, and sleep beckoned. Much as Beka hated to admit it, she could use some more rest. Trance was right about that. As Beka gave in to her body's needs, she glanced over at the adjacent bed. "Good night, Rhade."
"Good night, Beka," a drowsy voice responded.
"Rhade?" In an instant she was up and crossing the short distance between them. She stared at him. "You're awake."
He blinked up at her. "So I am. Is that noteworthy?"
"Let's just say it's a pleasant change." She peered into his face. "It's nice to see your pupils equal and reactive again."
For a moment he looked confused, then his expression cleared. "Ah, yes. My concussion. It seems to be gone, now." He sat up and looked around. "We're in Medical."
"Yes, Dylan came for us."
Rhade smiled smugly. "I told you he would."
Before she could reply, Trance walked in, confirming Beka's suspicions about medical monitoring. The golden woman said cheerfully, "Rhade, I see you're awake."
"This seems to be a major topic of conversation," Rhade said.
"That's because you've been unconscious ever since we rescued you, and everyone's been worried," Trance said serenely, effectively shutting him up. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she added, "Your injuries were quite severe, so I'm going to run a few tests now."
She checked her instruments, then asked him a number of questions designed to test his memory. He passed with flying colors, and Beka breathed a sigh of relief that he was okay.
Finally, Trance asked, "What is the last thing you can remember?"
"Honestly?" He grimaced. "Throwing up."
"That's a pleasant memory." Trance's eyes twinkled. "What led up to it?"
"It was after I'd splinted Beka's leg. Someone--probably the pirates--set off the proximity alarm. We waited it out, until they went away. Beka was getting irritable, so I gave her another pain killer. She accused me of being sloppy with the standard safety procedures--"
"Hey!" Beka protested in automatic denial. "I was not irritable. I only asked if you were strapped in when we crashed."
"It must have been the accusatory way you said it that gave me that impression," Rhade told her. He looked at Trance. "Then I could no longer control the nausea, so I went to the head and vomited. I think I vaguely recall coming back to the flight deck and sitting down, but it's not clear. That part's more like a dream than a real memory. I guess I must have lost consciousness after that."
Beka felt her stomach turn over at his version of events. Aside from his ridiculous bias about her temperament, he'd remembered everything correctly--up to the point where he'd thrown up. Everything after that was gone. Most importantly, he'd forgotten that terrible conversation about his past. She wondered if that might not be a blessing in disguise. "No," she said slowly. "You mostly stayed conscious for a while longer, but you kept nodding off."
"I was awake? I don't remember any of it." Rhade didn't sound happy.
"You seemed a little drowsy but pretty much okay for, oh, probably half an hour. After that you got really foggy, and then you went down for the count. You lasted maybe an hour, max."
Trance looked pleased and said, "That's not bad, Rhade."
Rhade apparently disagreed. "I lost an hour?" he asked, looking horrified.
"Some memory loss is not unusual with such severe head trauma. Consider yourself lucky. It could have been worse," Trance consoled him.
"Worse? How much worse?"
Trance said, "You could have lost all memory of the crash and everything that came after. Maybe even some of the events leading up to the crash. And in really severe cases--"
"I get the picture." Rhade held up a hand to stop her.
"It's also possible that your memory may eventually return."
"How likely is that?"
"Not very," she admitted regretfully. "But the brain is a complex organ, and Nietzscheans are very resilient." She considered him, compassion in her eyes. "It's only an hour, Telemachus."
He gnawed his lower lip, digesting the information. "Okay. I guess I'll have to take what I can get."
"I'm sure Beka will fill you in on your missing time," Trance said with one of her enigmatic, Mona Lisa smiles. "You're all right, so I'll leave you alone for now. Don't stay up too late talking, you two," she ordered, and headed back to her office.
Rhade waited until she was out of earshot, then looked at Beka. "So? What happened?"
Beka moved back to her bed and sat down. She did not want to have this discussion, and wished that Trance had ordered sedatives instead of conversation. "So, the pirates came back and decided to blow a hole in our hull, like I predicted," she said, opting for misdirection. "Dylan and the Andromeda arrived in the proverbial nick of time, scared off the bad guys, and rescued us."
"And Valerie's Last Chance? What did they know about it?"
"According to Dylan, a lot, unfortunately." Beka made a sour face. "I'm sure Dylan was reading between the lines, but it seems they were making a tidy profit from the kickbacks they received for turning a blind eye to the pirate activity. They didn't know about the trap out in their asteroid belt, though. They informed Dylan that they would take care of that little matter themselves."
Rhade let out a disgusted grunt.
Beka went on, "I gather they were annoyed by the incident, and the new information Dylan gave them. It's just a guess, but I'm betting they don't want any interference in their own shady import/export activities--not from us, the Commonwealth, or their rogue pirates."
"Is that all?"
Beka shifted restlessly. "What do you mean?"
"You said I was awake for a while, but I don't remember any of it. What was I doing during all of this?"
Spilling your guts, Beka thought. He deserved to know how much he'd revealed, yet how could she tell him about that conversation? She knew what it was like to have skeletons dragged, clanking and shrieking, out of the closet. Beka figured Rhade was at least as repressed about personal matters as she was, especially concerning this particular issue. She debated with herself briefly, then chose the coward's way out. "Not much. We just talked."
"That's all?"
She forced a smile. "That's all. I was trying to keep you awake."
"Obviously, it didn't work."
"No, it did work. For a while, at any rate."
He looked at her curiously. "Communication has never been your forte, at least with me. What did we talk about?"
She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. "Nothing in particular. Just this and that." She eyed him, wondering how much more to tell him, and threw out her next statement to check his reaction. "You told me a little about what life was like on Tarazed."
His expression became guarded. "Oh?"
Okay, that wasn't good. Beka chose her next words carefully, going for more misdirection. "Yeah, you explained some things to me about Dylan's status. I think I have some new insight into why he's so influential there." She grinned at that memory. "The cult of Dylan Hunt. You people are nuts."
He exhaled. "I see."
"Eh, all planets have their weird little quirks," she said with studied insolence. "I suppose you can't help it, what with Tarazed's oddball origins and all."
"Thank you for insulting my people and my homeworld. For the record, you must have misunderstood what I said. Dylan is not a religious or cult figure."
"Sure sounded like it to me."
"He is an important historical personage, that is all."
"I believe you called him a cultural icon. I guess it was the head injury talking, huh?" Beka leaned in, grinning wolfishly, and spoke in a low, confiding voice. "Don't worry, I won't tell a soul."
Rhade looked discomfited, just as she'd intended. He threw her a foul glare. "I should hope not, since you insist on putting an inappropriate spin on whatever it was that I told you."
"Oh, this is way too easy," she gloated. "You've never gotten really hammered, have you?"
"What's that got to do with anything?"
Beka explained, "Because you've obviously never been teased about an alcohol induced blackout before. Losing an hour is nothing, Rhade. Many people forget entire evenings after a binge at a really good party." She laughed. "They're a lot of fun the morning after." At his reproachful look, she said, "Hey, I'm just putting it into perspective for you."
He regarded her with affronted dignity. "And on that note, I believe this conversation is over." With that, he stretched out on the bed and rolled on his side, turning his back to her. "Good night, Beka."
"See you in the morning, Rhade," she said, keeping the teasing note in her voice. Then she lay back down, and stared up at the shadows.
She hadn't been lying to him; she'd meant it when she said she wouldn't tell a soul. Although she knew much of what he'd told her must be in the public records on Tarazed, still she'd keep his confidences to herself, at least until he spoke openly about them to the rest of the crew. Maybe even longer.
And if by some remote chance his memories did return one day, and he chose to confront her about her careful omissions? Well, when the time came, she'd just deal with him as best she could. Regret was the one constant in her life, and she could handle it.
She'd cope. Just like always.
*** end ***