Birthright 2 update
Jan. 8th, 2005 01:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wiseheartSo, frigging FF.net won't let me log in. It won't let me review, either. Now I'm forced to post the next chapter of Birthright 2 - The Gathering here and on the Memory Alpha list, respectively.
No, I'm not happy about it. But here you are:
BIRTHRIGHT 2 – THE GATHERING
by Soledad
Author’s note:
For disclaimer, rating, warnings, etc., see the Prologue. (Which you can find on FF.net and in Memory Alpha's Files section)
This chapter is a direct continuation of the previous one – for reasons of tolerable length. Some lines, as before, are directly quoted from the episode, for the same reason as before. Also, this is the last chapter to stay this close to the original. From now on, we’ll go more into the gap-filling and AU directions.
CHAPTER 6 – A SLIP OF TONGUE
When he reached the corridor leading to Hangar 3, Dylan was surprised to find Glittering Starlight waiting for him.
“I thought you could use some help here,” the Ruby Than explained nonchalantly. “Mr. Harper was friendly enough to give me this force lance and told me to ‘watch your posterior’, I think was the expression he chose.”
Dylan grinned, despite the tense situation. “Wouldn’t that be the job of your warriors?”
“They watch the Nietzscheans and the command deck, respectively,” Glittering Starlight replied. “Besides, I like a good brawl as much as your next bug.”
They both chuckled – Dylan always liked working with Than, they had such a refreshing view on the universe in general, and a weird sense of humour no other race seemed to possess – only to be interrupted by the holo-image of Andromeda flickering into existence in front of them.
“Captain, the Castalians are trying to override the door controls. Should I just let them in?”
“Sure,” Dylan answered, with an almost manic gleam in his pale eyes. “Let them feel like they're accomplishing something. Now,” he turned to the Ruby Than,” try to lure the first ones who enter further down the corridor. And when I say ‘now!’, grab the first ladder and jump on it, unless you want to be electrocuted.”
“Understood,” Glittering Starlight nodded. “You want them alive, I assume. Or should I simply shoot at their water tanks and be done with it?”
“Nah,” Dylan was climbing one of the ladders already,” I can’t just have potential members of the Commonwealth killed. That’d ruin my credibility, don’t you think?”
“True, the Ruby Than admitted. “Here they come… took them long enough to get that door overridden. Amateurs…”
The hangar doors slid apart, and a couple of Castalian water-breathers entered, wearing those ugly, metallic-blue uniforms of the militia, and on their backs the square, black water tanks, which made them capable of breathing in a non-liquid atmosphere. They detected the Ruby Than, aiming her force lance at them at once, and lunged to knock her out before she could shoot them.
“You are slow for fish,” Glittering Starlight teased, sidestepping, and instead of firing, she smacked down at the nearest one’s skull with the extended force lance. The man went down with a loud thud. The other one aimed his weapon at the Than, who ducked out of the firing line with surprising ease for someone with a stiff exoskeleton, and zigzagged away, down the corridor, luring him further away from the hangar.
The Castalian forgot about checking his surroundings in the heat of the pursuit, and was a little shocked when Dylan slid down a ladder and blocked his way.
“Welcome aboard,” Dylan said pleasantly, aiming a punch at the man’s midsection. The Castalian dodged and tired to knock him off – he was one of the subspecies Beka had spoken of earlier: large, square, dark-skinned and heavily muscled; and he had a mean left hook. Dylan mentally thanked his late mother for her modified heavy-worldler genes; without them, he’d have been out cold by now.
But he had to handle quickly, anyway, as he was rapidly losing the advantage of surprise, and two more Castalians from the same stocky build came running already. Fortunately, he had come prepared for all opportunities.
He rammed the blunt end of his still retracted force lance into the sensitive throat of his opponent, hoping that he hadn’t damaged the breathing apparatus – another death was the last thing he wanted in the current situation – then he charged the weapon and dropped it.
“Now!” he called out to the Ruby Than.
They both jumped onto the nearest ladder, as the force lance electrified the floor, zapping the Castalians unconscious.
“Nice work,” Glittering Starlight commented with appreciation.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A few minutes later, when the invaders were safely stored in the holding cells on V-deck, courtesy of Rommie’s droids, they returned to the command deck to meet a visibly upset Colonel Yau. Born to Starfire was still occupying the command chair, shimmering like a pearl and obviously enjoying her temporary importance very much. Beka was sitting in the slipstream chair, giving the colonel unfriendly looks, while Harper checked some diagrams on one of the computer screens and Rev Bem watched everything from the background, taking up his usual, serene posture.
“Captain,” Colonel Yau said, clearly unhappy with the recent events, “the Castalian government would like to make it clear that this attack was an unauthorized action by civilian militia.”
“I'm sure they would,” Beka muttered in a hostile manner. Not that she wouldn’t trust Tyr to kill anyone if it served to his advantage, but she genuinely believed that this time the Nietzschean was not to blame. Besides, Tyr was part of the crew now, and for Beka that meant family. Nobody messed with Beka’s family.
“Thank you for avoiding any bloodshed,” Yau was still speaking to Dylan. “I'm not sure we would have done the same in your place.”
“We don’t doubt that,” Beka commented darkly. “After all, you are awfully eager to hang Tyr, never wasting a thought for other possible suspects.”
“What other suspects?” Yau raised a thin, strangely colourless eyebrow in a superior manner that made Beka’s trigger finger itch.
“Your newly acquired president, for example,” she said.
The thin eyebrow arched even higher. “My dear Captain Valentine,” Yau said in an infuriatingly patronizing manner, “you're grasping at straws.”
“Am I,” Beka replied, withstanding the urge to hit the other woman. “Has President Lee’s untimely death not brought Mr. Chandos the promotion of presidentship? That’s an opportunity one doesn’t get too often.”
“Hardly,” Yau said. “He would have gotten his promotion even if Lee were still alive. Why take such risks to acquire something that was his already?”
“Maybe he got impatient,” Dylan offered mildly. “How long would he have had to wait? Ten years? Twenty?”
“Three days, Captain,” Yau answered dryly. She noticed the stunned faces with grim satisfaction. “Sebastian Lee was planning to resign as soon as the Commonwealth Charter was ratified. It was to be his last significant act as president. Chandos would've taken over shortly thereafter – and he knew that. Now, if you've finished insulting our elected officials, I have a report to make.
“Not so hastily, Colonel. I want you to look at something.” Dylan looked at Harper. “Are you through with your analysis?”
“All done, boss,” Harper pulled up a graphic of a force lance on the viewscreen of his workstation. Yau rolled her eyes.
“More schematics. How… interesting.”
“Bear with me,” Dylan said with forced patience. “I think we have actually found something. Mr. Harper, care to enlighten us?”
“Sure,” the engineer said brightly. “The Harper is good. Well, as we’ve established already, each force lance is keyed to the DNA of its owner. That’s why I needed a genetic sample from you before I have you one,” he added, looking at the Ruby Than.”
“What’d have happened if I tried to use, say, the captain’s force lance?” Glittering Starlight asked.
“The capacitor would have discharged, shocked you unconscious,” Harper explained cheerfully. “Just as it did with the fish people down at Hangar 3.”
But the weapon that killed President Lee was that of the Nietzschean,” Yau insisted. “The serial numbers confirm it. It wouldn't have shocked him.”
“The ‘Nietzschean’ has got a name, you know,” Beka remarked snidely.
“Not now, Beka!” Dylan snapped. Then, turning back to the colonel, he continued. “Normally, you'd be right. But a force lance can also be operated by remote control, if necessary. That’s how I took out your... concerned citizens, a few minutes ago.”
“Remote control?” Yau repeated, somewhat blankly.
“With the right codes, a force lance can be controlled from the… outside to say so,” Harper supplied helpfully. “It can be done either by voice, laser impulses, or microwave transmission.”
“Fascinating,” Yau said dryly. “But I still don’t see what this should prove. This is the Nietzschean’s weapon. Your own investigation proves that it has discharged two effectors,” she pointed at the other viewscreen with the rough ‘reconstruction of the crime’ played on it. “Those effectors killed President Lee. The weapon was found in the Nietzschean’s hand. The only thing I still don’t understand, why the lance should have shocked him, since it was his own.”
“Because Tyr's command of his sidearm had been taken from him,” Dylan replied. “The control over the weapon was somehow assigned to someone else.”
“How? And to whom?” Yau’s doubt was as evident as it was understandable. Dylan shrugged.
“I don’t know – not yet. But I’m going to find out, for whoever controlled the weapon was also responsible for President Lee’s death.”
“And just how do you intend to find it out?” Yau asked, more suspicious than ever.
“Computer records should be helpful,” Dylan said. “Andromeda, have you intercepted any transmissions at the time of President Lee's death?”
“Accessing records,” the computer replied crisply. “Affirmative. There was a low-frequency microwave transmission detectable outside Obs Deck.”
Dylan’s head napped up. “Origination?”
“The transmission originated from a communications port in the observation deck itself,” the computer told him. Dylan frowned.
“Can you check who had access to that port at the given time?”
“That won’t be necessary, Captain,” Rommie interrupted, entering at that very moment. “I control that port, and no one else has accessed it for days. Which leaves only one conclusion: I killed President Lee.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Of course, Harper was the first to break the stunned silence, protective of his creation as always, like some kind of Pygmalion out of his time.
“That’s ridiculous, Rom-doll,” he protested. “What possible reason would you have to harm Mr. Fish-neck?”
“None,” Rommie admitted in apparent confusion. “But my records clearly indicate that I gave that order.”
“And you remember doing it?” Dylan asked.
“No,” Rommie said. “But that doesn’t change the facts. Memory is just a function of information retrieval – it can malfunction easily. The information itself, though, is there. I did it.”
“That’s not good enough,” Dylan said. “Mr. Harper, run a complete diagnostic on Rommie’s programming. I want to find out what happened, how and why.”
“So do I,” Yau said. “But first, I must consult the president. If you excuse me…”
This time, nobody hindered her in leaving. Harper started the diagnostics immediately. Then he turned to Dylan.
“Listen, boss, we can’t let the fish-necks have Rommie. She’s… she’s a member of the crew, right? No less than Tyr, correct?”
“That’s correct, yes,” Dylan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you have in that devious mind of yours, Harper? If it’s useful, tell us, quickly. We don’t have much time.”
“Very well,” Harper said. “It’s simple, actually. We download Rommie’s personality into my neural net until we get this sorted out.”
Everyone stared at him with open mouths – including the Than, who usually weren’t so easy to surprise.
“You are clearly insane,” Born to Starfire commented. Harper gave her an angry look.
“As you are some big shot among bugs, I assume you are familiar with Castalian legal code,” he spat.
“Of course I am,” the Diamond Than replied calmly. “I’m a member of the ruler caste. Knowing such things is part of my job.”
“Fine,” Harper growled. “Then you know what they do to an AI who commits murder, right? They disassemble it!”
“In the Commonwealth, we did the same,” Rommie commented matter-of-factly. “Complete personality reinitialization. The only secure way to clear out core programming. Radical, but necessary method to ensure everyone’s safety.”
“Yeah, but they can't erase you if they can't find you,” Harper pointed out. Dylan shook his head.
“Harper, Born to Starfire is right. This is insane.”
“Why?” Harper asked defiantly. “I'll just store her data in my cranium until we can solve this stupid mystery. Piece of cake for the Harper. C’me on, Rommie, interface with me. It's the closest I'm ever gonna get anyway.”
As ridiculous as the whole thing sounded, not to mention the suggestive waggling of Harper’s eyebrows and the overdone lewd expression on his animated face, not even Dylan could help being touched by his offer.
“Harper,” Rommie said with uncharacteristic fondness, “that would work for about a millisecond. Then your brain would fry like an egg on a plasma relay.”
“What?” Harper asked, clearly insulted. “You saying you're too smart for me? I’ll have you to know that the Harper is a freaking genius!”
“We all know that,” Rommie smiled, “and it's very sweet of you to offer, really. But I'm a warship. I’m not going to hide from the Castalians.”
“And I’m not gonna let them frigging destroy you!” Harper riposted angrily. “I built you, dammit, and you’re not going to be wiped clear, as long as I have anything to say about it.”
“You haven’t, I’m afraid,” the Diamond Than said calmly. “The legal situation is rather evident in this case. The only way you might help the AI is to find out what really happened.”
“And you should hurry up,” Beka added, “or else we might have to fight the Castalians in earnest – or leave with the unratified Charter.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Marching towards President Chandos’ temporary quarters, it didn’t do any good for Colonel Yau’s already upset mind to run into the two resident Nietzscheans by accident. It’d have probably helped things even less, had she known that the ‘accident’ had been carefully orchestrated by Tyr and involved Andromeda revealing her exact whereabouts. Even so, if glares could kill, Tyr would have certainly fallen dead on the spot.
“What are you doing loose?” Yau demanded, aiming a nasty-looking pistol of considerable firepower at him. She had good reflexes for a kludge, one had to give her that.
“Going home,” Tyr replied amiably. “General consensus is that I am innocent, so there was no need to keep me under guard any longer. Besides, Captain Hunt needs those bugs to fend off intruders. Maybe you’ve heard about it?
The murderous glare of the colonel never turned from him, nor did the pistol that she held in a death grip.
“You're many things, Nietzschean,” she spat with the venom only one who had been subjected to Nietzschean overlordship could produce, “but innocent is not one of them.”
Tyr weighed his opportunities carefully. As much as she felt the urge to make some derogative kludge remark, provoking the already irate woman aiming a lethal weapon at him wouldn’t have been wise. Yau most likely had proper training in the use of that… thing.
“I imagine that makes two of us,” he finally said calmly.
For a moment, he thought the colonel would actually shoot him.
“What's that supposed to mean?” she demanded indignantly.
“That was a compliment,” Freya explained sweetly. “He was congratulating you on committing the perfect crime. It was you who killed your president, wasn’t it?”
Yau gave a very un-ladylike snort.
“I won't even dignify this ridiculous accusation with a reply,” she said.
“No?” Tyr asked. “But it would make so much sense for you to kill Lee, and then arrange for me to take the blame. You know full well that no Castalian would ever believe an innocent Nietzschean.”
“Your own behaviour is proof enough for that,” Freya added. “And you had the specs on Tyr’s weapon – by your own request, if I may add.”
Yau shook her head in honest exasperation. “That's insane,” she said. “Why would I do that? Lee was like a father to me.”
“After he had ordered the death of your family – that of all people,” Tyr answered.
“Sebastian Lee never made that order!” Yau protested vehemently. “Why should he have his fellow humans killed and allow some of those bastards to escape?”
“Nobody is perfect,” Tyr commented dryly. “He made a mistake, it seems.”
“No, he didn’t,” Yau said determinedly. “If I believed for one minute that he did, I would have killed him myself.”
“May we have that in writing?” Freya asked with a sickeningly sweet smile.
Yau glared at her for a moment, eyes filled with old pain and bone-deep hatred. Then she turned on her heel and practically fled from their presence, overwhelmed by bitter memories.
Freya looked after her thoughtfully. “That was… interesting.”
“Indeed,” Tyr agreed. “Now, that my memories start returning, I can remember Lee saying something about that I’d ‘never find what I’m looking for’ without his help.”
“The Völsung?” Freya guessed. Tyr nodded.
“Apparently, some of them have escaped, after all. I’ll have to find them.”
“Of course,” Freya said. “They are your people. Do you believe that Yau knows something?”
“Possibly. But she’d never tell me.”
“You’ll have to search for every Nietzschean name in the Castalian records,” Freya said gloomily. “If they allow you to take a look at them, that is.”
“I don’t intend to ask their permission,” Tyr growled. “Maybe I can persuade Harper to hack into their archive. If not, there’s always the Perseids.”
“Why would they help you?” Freya asked doubtfully. “Our people aren’t exactly popular on Sinti IV, either.”
“True, but they need alliances aboard this ship just as much as we do,” Tyr shrugged. “I don’t believe that someone of Höhne’s importance would come personally, if they didn’t have their own hidden agenda.”
“Which would be – what?” Freya asked. Tyr shrugged again.
“I don’t know. Not yet, anyway, although I’d like to find out. Maybe they want access to the ship, to see if they could get their hands on it someway.”
“But you won’t let them do tat, will you?” That wasn’t really a question, but Tyr answered it anyway.
“No, I won’t,” he said with a wolfish grin. “Well, since I seem to be cleared from suspicion, I’ll go to the command deck and see how the investigations go.”
“Be careful,” Freya warned. “There are still Castalians all over the ship.”
“Don’t worry,” Tyr kissed her soundly. “I am always careful.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Reaching the command deck, he found Dylan and Beka in the middle of a slightly amused conversation.
“So, Harper confessed to the murder, huh?” Beka was asking, just as he entered.
“He tried, Dylan replied, shaking his head.
“What was his excuse?” Tyr asked incredulously, not believing it for a second. Not that he’d think Harper incapable of killing someone if necessary, he just couldn’t think of a sound reason for the engineer killing Lee.
Dylan gave him a distracted glance. “Oh, hi Tyr. Well, he said he ‘didn't like their stupid fish music’. But basically, I think he just wanted to save Rommie.”
“He wanted to sacrifice himself to save a machine?” Tyr rolled his eyes. “The boy is clearly insane.”
“Everyone keep telling him that,” Beka said, “but personally, I think his heart's in the right place. He’d do the same for you, Tyr.”
“Which would be just as insane,” Tyr pointed out.
“Well, I appreciate his loyalty,” Dylan said. “But what we really need is solve this crime. I hope he’ll be able to track down the hacker.”
“I dunno, Dylan,” Beka said with a shrug. “Maybe we should cut our losses. Is Castalia truly worth all the effort? There are a million other worlds out there…”
“Plenty of fish in the sea?” Dylan asked dryly.
“You said it, not me,” Beka replied with an innocent smile. Dylan shook his head.
“My problem isn't leaving… although, with the Perseids and the Than on board, we’d need a damn good reason to do that. My problem is the statement we'd be making that this ship and her crew are somehow above the law, that we're better than the people we're trying to help.”
Beka raised an eyebrow. “Aren't we?”
“Sure we are,” Tyr countered; coming from him, it didn’t exactly sound like a joke. Maybe it wasn’t even intended to.
At Dylan’s dark look, Beka laughed. “Hey! I read the first officer's job description. Play devil's advocate's on page three.”
“Get thee behind me, Satan,” Dylan muttered darkly; then, glancing at Tyr, he added. “Both of you.”
Tyr grinned, but before he could have even thought of a snarky reply, Harper burst in, in a most excited state.
“Dylan, you're not gonna believe this,” he exclaimed.
Beka rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. You're not gonna confess again, are you?”
“I'll resent that tomorrow,” Harper replied blithely, “but for now...” he nudged Dylan away from the console, “excuse me... check this out.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
About twenty minutes later, the core crew, once again, gathered on the Observations deck. Born to Starfire was present, too, flanked by Radiance of Wisdom, and so were the Perseids, the Nietzscheans and President Chandos with his aides. Even the Makra passenger made an appearance, watching the unfolding scene with great interest.
“Are you certain that this is gong to work?” Tyr asked Harper in a low voice. The engineer shot him and exasperated look.
“Would I risk Rommie’s existence otherwise?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tyr paused. “This… action of yours is going to reveal a crime committed against my people as well as prove my innocence. I owe you for that.”
Harper glanced at him warily. “No offence, Tyr, but I couldn’t care less about what happened a bunch of Über slavers. I’m doing this to save Rommie.”
“I know that,” Tyr replied, “but you have my gratitude nevertheless, as the outcome serves my purposes just as well. Intentions are irrelevant. It’s that actions what count. Which means that I owe you. Should you need my help somewhen in the future, you can count on it.”
“As long as it won’t endanger your survival,” Harper said cynically.
“Of course,” Tyr smirked. “Although I might be willing to take a… certain amount of risk, if necessary.
Harper’s reaction was most amusing – a look half doubt, half incredulous surprise – but he couldn’t continue his little chat with the engineer. Dylan Hunt cleared his throat and stepped up to the podium, looking directly into the ever-present camera of the Castalian press, to address the people who were watching the broadcast directly.
“This is Captain Dylan Hunt of the High Guard,” he announced solemnly. “Investigation has shown that an Artificial Intelligence was involved in the tragic death of your president. In such a case, Commonwealth law demands that the AI's personality be completely erased. I invite you, the people of the Castalian Republic, to observe the law in action. Bring in the prisoner.”
Two Than warriors, namely Celestial Fire and Soaring Winds, led Rommie in. The avatar wore a formal High Guard uniform and looked remarkably calm for an AI who was about to be erased… of course, being a machine probably helped. Harper, still standing next to Tyr, seemed a lot more anxious. In fact, he was fidgeting nervously.
The Nietzschean smirked again. “Getting cold feet, little man?”
“Just see that your force lance won’t malfunction,” Harper hissed.
“It won’t,” Tyr stated calmly, “unless you’ve made a mistake.”
“I don’t make mistakes,” Harper countered angrily; then he apparently remembered the few times when he had made mistakes, because he hurriedly added. “At least, uh, not often. And most definitely none of the technical sort, ya know?”
“Then be quiet and stay prepared,” Tyr said, moving a step or two away from both him and Freya, just to be sure that he won’t injure them by accident.
“President Chandos will bear witness,” Dylan continued, “as I give the codes which will destroy the Andromeda intelligence. Andromeda Ascendant, are you ready?”
“Yes, Captain, I am ready,” Rommie answered calmly.
“Wait a minute!” Beka interrupted when Dylan was about to enter the codes. “We forgot to play the president’s entrance music.”
She touched a button, and the… noise Harper had nicknamed ‘fish music’ started playing. Farrendahl closed her eyes in almost physical pain, her tufted ears twitched. Makra appeared to be particularly… sensitive to certain Castalian frequencies.
Surprisingly enough – at least for those not filled in in advance – President Chandos’ face showed a considerable amount of panic, too.
“Oh, I… I don’t think that would be truly necessary,” he stammered, but Beka ‘Tsk, Tsk’-ed him.
“Now, we want to observe proper protocol,” she replied sweetly. “Is it not what Castalian society is all about?”
“No,” Chandos shouted, seriously panicking now, as Tyr’s force lance started firing, seemingly on its own. “No, no, please, no, stop,” he practically begged, trying to run away, and getting off the presidential armour at the same time.
Dylan gave him the royal eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
“This is a mistake,” Chandos was still ducking from the bullets, working on getting rid of the presidential armour desperately. “I don't understand…”
“Of course you do,” Tyr said with a grim smile. “You're the one that loaded the computer virus into the presidential music.”
“Which is why you never played any for yourself,” Beka added, switching off the annoying noise before anyone could have got sot in the chaos. Farrendahl gave a relieved sigh. The shooting didn’t upset her a bit, but the so-called music…
“After Tyr's behaviour provided you with the perfect cover, you directed Andromeda to kill President Lee,” Dylan continued mercilessly.
“To be accurate, he gave the instruction to kill the man in the presidential breastplate,” Rommie corrected, and Harper nodded, with an almost insane gleam of professional enjoyment in his eyes.
“Recognition software is dicey, isn’t it,” he said gleefully, “and you Castalians, you all look so much alike. Excluding, of course, Colonel Yau,” the woman in question snorted at this, but Harper continued anyway. “It was much safer to tell Rommie to target the guy with the dish on his chest than to tell her to shoot at a guy with tubes sticking out of his fishneck. That’d have resulted in multiple victims, wouldn’t it?”
Chandos didn’t show much regret. Actually, he showed no regret at all. “It was a good plan, you must admit.”
Harper shrugged, disgust showing clearly on his mobile face. “You needed better music.”
“Ulysses Chandos, I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of President Lee,” Colonel Yau announced. After a short pause, she added mournfully. “I don't understand what made you do this. You were already gonna succeed him. Why now? You just had to wait a few more days…”
“…for his resignation,” Chandos finished for her. “You see, exactly that was the problem. Please... please stop the camera. I want to talk to Colonel Yau and Captain Hunt in private.”
“Oh no, you won’t,” Tyr growled angrily. “You’d have me executed publicly – you’re not going to hide your skeletons in any cupboards.”
“I’d prefer to know the whole truth, myself,” Born to Starfire stated calmly. “If my government is going to sign the Commonwealth Charter, we need to know what possible motivations the other potential members might have.”
“Sinti IV must be informed about these events as well,” Höhne said. “About all of the events, and their backgrounds. If we can’t trust each other, what good would do to sign the Charter in the first place?”
“I tend to agree,” Dylan said. “Let’s compromise. The press clears the deck, so does any non-essential personnel. But the representatives of the Than and Sinti IV stay. Agreed?”
“I won’t leave,” Tyr said. “This man tried to get me executed for a crime committed by himself. I have a right to know the truth.”
“All right,” Dylan sighed impatiently. “But everyone leaves. NOW.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They all waited while Castalians, low-ranking Than, Freya, Rekeeb and Farrendahl left, then Dylan turned to the newly elected President.
“We are listening.”
“You have to understand,” Chandos began. “ What I did, I did for Castalia.”
Yau shot him a murderous glare. One that would’ve made any Nietzschean Matriarch proud. Obviously, having been a slave of the Völsung had rubbed off a little. “You're lying.“
Chandos shook his head in resignation. “I wish I would. Unfortunately, that’s the truth. You both know that Lee was going to resign after the charter ratification, but have you seen his resignation speech?”
“No,” Yau said. “Why should we? It was his business, not ours.”
“Well, I have,” Chandos said grimly. “He couldn't leave well-enough alone. His damn ego. He didn't want to just be a hero. He wanted to be a saint. But we both know there are no saints on the battlements, are there, Captain?”
“No,” Dylan said with something akin to regret in his voice, so that Beka started wondering about some of the missions he might have been ordered to go on during the heydays of the old Commonwealth. “Not really.”
“The Völsung Aerie Orbital Habitat did not explode by accident, did it?” Tyr asked softly.
“No,” Chandos replied. “Lee ordered its destruction. I know. I was there. We both agreed.”
“Agreed,” Tyr repeated with eerie calmness. “You both agreed to massacre seventy-five thousand non-combatant old people. And the women and children. What a truly Nietzschean attitude: never let your enemy escape when you can kill him. You could make me proud, after all.”
Chandos ignored him, directing his words to Dylan only. “I assume you know how it is with the super-men, Captain. You let them go, and they'll come back stronger than before. There are no non-combatant Nietzscheans. A three-year-old will disembowel a man.”
“Now you are exaggerating,” Dylan said.
“He’s not,” Tyr replied. “Not by much, that is. Combat training usually started at the age of six in Kodiak Pride. I assume the Völsung practice was similar.”
Nobody paid him any real attention. All the others were too deeply shocked to hear that his accusations were justified, after all. Sebastian Lee had been a legend, even beyond the borders of his own world. He had admirers among other races as well, for forging the Castalian Republic… since they had no idea about the method of said forging.
“What about the labourers?” Yau asked, almost tonelessly. Her face was a lifeless mask. She was clearly in shock. “The slaves?”
Chandos shrugged. Unlike Sebastian Lee, he never cared much for air-breathers… or for other Castalian minorities, for that matter. “Collateral damage. A small price to pay for freedom. Or so we thought.”
“I don't believe you,” Yau whispered. “You’re just trying to justify your crime.”
“Oh, the record's clear, Colonel,” Chandos replied with a grim smile. “Your hero, he had feet of clay... bloody clay, at that. But even worse, he had a conscience.”
“What’s wrong with having a conscience?” Rev Bem asked mildly. “Isn’t conscience the tool of the Divine to lead us on the right path?”
Chandos gave the Magog an openly disgusted look. “That might work for a monk. But if Lee had confessed, the air-breathers would have demanded blood vengeance.”
“Could you blame them?” Beka muttered under her breath. Harper shrugged.
“I’d surely have done the same. What a self-righteous bastard. I swear you, boss, this is almost worse than the Niets themselves.”
Chandos either didn’t hear them or chose not to pay any attention. “The water-breathers, they would've resisted, and we would've been faced with a civil war. I tried to talk him out of it. I told him he was putting too much trust in his people, but he... of course, he would not listen. He left me no choice. I had to save the republic.”
“By killing the man who created it,” Dylan said dryly. “Somehow, I’m not buying your arguments, Mr. President.”
“You must let me go,” Chandos argued. “We can find someone else to blame for Lee's murder, or leave it unsolved. But we can't let the truth come out. It will destroy us all. Castalia and your Commonwealth.”
“If you think I'll cooperate in a cover-up, you're mistaken,” Dylan said in disgust. “Colonel, your prisoner.”
After Colonel Yau had led the now ex-president of the Castalian Republic out of the Observations Deck, Dylan looked around.
“Any objections?”
Höhne was the first to answer. “While I basically agree with you, Captain Hunt, I must point out that you are taking a great risk. What if the Castalian parliament chooses not to ratify your Commonwealth Charter, after all?”
Dylan shrugged. “As Beka would say: there are plenty of other fish in the sea.”
TBC
No, I'm not happy about it. But here you are:
BIRTHRIGHT 2 – THE GATHERING
by Soledad
Author’s note:
For disclaimer, rating, warnings, etc., see the Prologue. (Which you can find on FF.net and in Memory Alpha's Files section)
This chapter is a direct continuation of the previous one – for reasons of tolerable length. Some lines, as before, are directly quoted from the episode, for the same reason as before. Also, this is the last chapter to stay this close to the original. From now on, we’ll go more into the gap-filling and AU directions.
CHAPTER 6 – A SLIP OF TONGUE
When he reached the corridor leading to Hangar 3, Dylan was surprised to find Glittering Starlight waiting for him.
“I thought you could use some help here,” the Ruby Than explained nonchalantly. “Mr. Harper was friendly enough to give me this force lance and told me to ‘watch your posterior’, I think was the expression he chose.”
Dylan grinned, despite the tense situation. “Wouldn’t that be the job of your warriors?”
“They watch the Nietzscheans and the command deck, respectively,” Glittering Starlight replied. “Besides, I like a good brawl as much as your next bug.”
They both chuckled – Dylan always liked working with Than, they had such a refreshing view on the universe in general, and a weird sense of humour no other race seemed to possess – only to be interrupted by the holo-image of Andromeda flickering into existence in front of them.
“Captain, the Castalians are trying to override the door controls. Should I just let them in?”
“Sure,” Dylan answered, with an almost manic gleam in his pale eyes. “Let them feel like they're accomplishing something. Now,” he turned to the Ruby Than,” try to lure the first ones who enter further down the corridor. And when I say ‘now!’, grab the first ladder and jump on it, unless you want to be electrocuted.”
“Understood,” Glittering Starlight nodded. “You want them alive, I assume. Or should I simply shoot at their water tanks and be done with it?”
“Nah,” Dylan was climbing one of the ladders already,” I can’t just have potential members of the Commonwealth killed. That’d ruin my credibility, don’t you think?”
“True, the Ruby Than admitted. “Here they come… took them long enough to get that door overridden. Amateurs…”
The hangar doors slid apart, and a couple of Castalian water-breathers entered, wearing those ugly, metallic-blue uniforms of the militia, and on their backs the square, black water tanks, which made them capable of breathing in a non-liquid atmosphere. They detected the Ruby Than, aiming her force lance at them at once, and lunged to knock her out before she could shoot them.
“You are slow for fish,” Glittering Starlight teased, sidestepping, and instead of firing, she smacked down at the nearest one’s skull with the extended force lance. The man went down with a loud thud. The other one aimed his weapon at the Than, who ducked out of the firing line with surprising ease for someone with a stiff exoskeleton, and zigzagged away, down the corridor, luring him further away from the hangar.
The Castalian forgot about checking his surroundings in the heat of the pursuit, and was a little shocked when Dylan slid down a ladder and blocked his way.
“Welcome aboard,” Dylan said pleasantly, aiming a punch at the man’s midsection. The Castalian dodged and tired to knock him off – he was one of the subspecies Beka had spoken of earlier: large, square, dark-skinned and heavily muscled; and he had a mean left hook. Dylan mentally thanked his late mother for her modified heavy-worldler genes; without them, he’d have been out cold by now.
But he had to handle quickly, anyway, as he was rapidly losing the advantage of surprise, and two more Castalians from the same stocky build came running already. Fortunately, he had come prepared for all opportunities.
He rammed the blunt end of his still retracted force lance into the sensitive throat of his opponent, hoping that he hadn’t damaged the breathing apparatus – another death was the last thing he wanted in the current situation – then he charged the weapon and dropped it.
“Now!” he called out to the Ruby Than.
They both jumped onto the nearest ladder, as the force lance electrified the floor, zapping the Castalians unconscious.
“Nice work,” Glittering Starlight commented with appreciation.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A few minutes later, when the invaders were safely stored in the holding cells on V-deck, courtesy of Rommie’s droids, they returned to the command deck to meet a visibly upset Colonel Yau. Born to Starfire was still occupying the command chair, shimmering like a pearl and obviously enjoying her temporary importance very much. Beka was sitting in the slipstream chair, giving the colonel unfriendly looks, while Harper checked some diagrams on one of the computer screens and Rev Bem watched everything from the background, taking up his usual, serene posture.
“Captain,” Colonel Yau said, clearly unhappy with the recent events, “the Castalian government would like to make it clear that this attack was an unauthorized action by civilian militia.”
“I'm sure they would,” Beka muttered in a hostile manner. Not that she wouldn’t trust Tyr to kill anyone if it served to his advantage, but she genuinely believed that this time the Nietzschean was not to blame. Besides, Tyr was part of the crew now, and for Beka that meant family. Nobody messed with Beka’s family.
“Thank you for avoiding any bloodshed,” Yau was still speaking to Dylan. “I'm not sure we would have done the same in your place.”
“We don’t doubt that,” Beka commented darkly. “After all, you are awfully eager to hang Tyr, never wasting a thought for other possible suspects.”
“What other suspects?” Yau raised a thin, strangely colourless eyebrow in a superior manner that made Beka’s trigger finger itch.
“Your newly acquired president, for example,” she said.
The thin eyebrow arched even higher. “My dear Captain Valentine,” Yau said in an infuriatingly patronizing manner, “you're grasping at straws.”
“Am I,” Beka replied, withstanding the urge to hit the other woman. “Has President Lee’s untimely death not brought Mr. Chandos the promotion of presidentship? That’s an opportunity one doesn’t get too often.”
“Hardly,” Yau said. “He would have gotten his promotion even if Lee were still alive. Why take such risks to acquire something that was his already?”
“Maybe he got impatient,” Dylan offered mildly. “How long would he have had to wait? Ten years? Twenty?”
“Three days, Captain,” Yau answered dryly. She noticed the stunned faces with grim satisfaction. “Sebastian Lee was planning to resign as soon as the Commonwealth Charter was ratified. It was to be his last significant act as president. Chandos would've taken over shortly thereafter – and he knew that. Now, if you've finished insulting our elected officials, I have a report to make.
“Not so hastily, Colonel. I want you to look at something.” Dylan looked at Harper. “Are you through with your analysis?”
“All done, boss,” Harper pulled up a graphic of a force lance on the viewscreen of his workstation. Yau rolled her eyes.
“More schematics. How… interesting.”
“Bear with me,” Dylan said with forced patience. “I think we have actually found something. Mr. Harper, care to enlighten us?”
“Sure,” the engineer said brightly. “The Harper is good. Well, as we’ve established already, each force lance is keyed to the DNA of its owner. That’s why I needed a genetic sample from you before I have you one,” he added, looking at the Ruby Than.”
“What’d have happened if I tried to use, say, the captain’s force lance?” Glittering Starlight asked.
“The capacitor would have discharged, shocked you unconscious,” Harper explained cheerfully. “Just as it did with the fish people down at Hangar 3.”
But the weapon that killed President Lee was that of the Nietzschean,” Yau insisted. “The serial numbers confirm it. It wouldn't have shocked him.”
“The ‘Nietzschean’ has got a name, you know,” Beka remarked snidely.
“Not now, Beka!” Dylan snapped. Then, turning back to the colonel, he continued. “Normally, you'd be right. But a force lance can also be operated by remote control, if necessary. That’s how I took out your... concerned citizens, a few minutes ago.”
“Remote control?” Yau repeated, somewhat blankly.
“With the right codes, a force lance can be controlled from the… outside to say so,” Harper supplied helpfully. “It can be done either by voice, laser impulses, or microwave transmission.”
“Fascinating,” Yau said dryly. “But I still don’t see what this should prove. This is the Nietzschean’s weapon. Your own investigation proves that it has discharged two effectors,” she pointed at the other viewscreen with the rough ‘reconstruction of the crime’ played on it. “Those effectors killed President Lee. The weapon was found in the Nietzschean’s hand. The only thing I still don’t understand, why the lance should have shocked him, since it was his own.”
“Because Tyr's command of his sidearm had been taken from him,” Dylan replied. “The control over the weapon was somehow assigned to someone else.”
“How? And to whom?” Yau’s doubt was as evident as it was understandable. Dylan shrugged.
“I don’t know – not yet. But I’m going to find out, for whoever controlled the weapon was also responsible for President Lee’s death.”
“And just how do you intend to find it out?” Yau asked, more suspicious than ever.
“Computer records should be helpful,” Dylan said. “Andromeda, have you intercepted any transmissions at the time of President Lee's death?”
“Accessing records,” the computer replied crisply. “Affirmative. There was a low-frequency microwave transmission detectable outside Obs Deck.”
Dylan’s head napped up. “Origination?”
“The transmission originated from a communications port in the observation deck itself,” the computer told him. Dylan frowned.
“Can you check who had access to that port at the given time?”
“That won’t be necessary, Captain,” Rommie interrupted, entering at that very moment. “I control that port, and no one else has accessed it for days. Which leaves only one conclusion: I killed President Lee.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Of course, Harper was the first to break the stunned silence, protective of his creation as always, like some kind of Pygmalion out of his time.
“That’s ridiculous, Rom-doll,” he protested. “What possible reason would you have to harm Mr. Fish-neck?”
“None,” Rommie admitted in apparent confusion. “But my records clearly indicate that I gave that order.”
“And you remember doing it?” Dylan asked.
“No,” Rommie said. “But that doesn’t change the facts. Memory is just a function of information retrieval – it can malfunction easily. The information itself, though, is there. I did it.”
“That’s not good enough,” Dylan said. “Mr. Harper, run a complete diagnostic on Rommie’s programming. I want to find out what happened, how and why.”
“So do I,” Yau said. “But first, I must consult the president. If you excuse me…”
This time, nobody hindered her in leaving. Harper started the diagnostics immediately. Then he turned to Dylan.
“Listen, boss, we can’t let the fish-necks have Rommie. She’s… she’s a member of the crew, right? No less than Tyr, correct?”
“That’s correct, yes,” Dylan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you have in that devious mind of yours, Harper? If it’s useful, tell us, quickly. We don’t have much time.”
“Very well,” Harper said. “It’s simple, actually. We download Rommie’s personality into my neural net until we get this sorted out.”
Everyone stared at him with open mouths – including the Than, who usually weren’t so easy to surprise.
“You are clearly insane,” Born to Starfire commented. Harper gave her an angry look.
“As you are some big shot among bugs, I assume you are familiar with Castalian legal code,” he spat.
“Of course I am,” the Diamond Than replied calmly. “I’m a member of the ruler caste. Knowing such things is part of my job.”
“Fine,” Harper growled. “Then you know what they do to an AI who commits murder, right? They disassemble it!”
“In the Commonwealth, we did the same,” Rommie commented matter-of-factly. “Complete personality reinitialization. The only secure way to clear out core programming. Radical, but necessary method to ensure everyone’s safety.”
“Yeah, but they can't erase you if they can't find you,” Harper pointed out. Dylan shook his head.
“Harper, Born to Starfire is right. This is insane.”
“Why?” Harper asked defiantly. “I'll just store her data in my cranium until we can solve this stupid mystery. Piece of cake for the Harper. C’me on, Rommie, interface with me. It's the closest I'm ever gonna get anyway.”
As ridiculous as the whole thing sounded, not to mention the suggestive waggling of Harper’s eyebrows and the overdone lewd expression on his animated face, not even Dylan could help being touched by his offer.
“Harper,” Rommie said with uncharacteristic fondness, “that would work for about a millisecond. Then your brain would fry like an egg on a plasma relay.”
“What?” Harper asked, clearly insulted. “You saying you're too smart for me? I’ll have you to know that the Harper is a freaking genius!”
“We all know that,” Rommie smiled, “and it's very sweet of you to offer, really. But I'm a warship. I’m not going to hide from the Castalians.”
“And I’m not gonna let them frigging destroy you!” Harper riposted angrily. “I built you, dammit, and you’re not going to be wiped clear, as long as I have anything to say about it.”
“You haven’t, I’m afraid,” the Diamond Than said calmly. “The legal situation is rather evident in this case. The only way you might help the AI is to find out what really happened.”
“And you should hurry up,” Beka added, “or else we might have to fight the Castalians in earnest – or leave with the unratified Charter.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Marching towards President Chandos’ temporary quarters, it didn’t do any good for Colonel Yau’s already upset mind to run into the two resident Nietzscheans by accident. It’d have probably helped things even less, had she known that the ‘accident’ had been carefully orchestrated by Tyr and involved Andromeda revealing her exact whereabouts. Even so, if glares could kill, Tyr would have certainly fallen dead on the spot.
“What are you doing loose?” Yau demanded, aiming a nasty-looking pistol of considerable firepower at him. She had good reflexes for a kludge, one had to give her that.
“Going home,” Tyr replied amiably. “General consensus is that I am innocent, so there was no need to keep me under guard any longer. Besides, Captain Hunt needs those bugs to fend off intruders. Maybe you’ve heard about it?
The murderous glare of the colonel never turned from him, nor did the pistol that she held in a death grip.
“You're many things, Nietzschean,” she spat with the venom only one who had been subjected to Nietzschean overlordship could produce, “but innocent is not one of them.”
Tyr weighed his opportunities carefully. As much as she felt the urge to make some derogative kludge remark, provoking the already irate woman aiming a lethal weapon at him wouldn’t have been wise. Yau most likely had proper training in the use of that… thing.
“I imagine that makes two of us,” he finally said calmly.
For a moment, he thought the colonel would actually shoot him.
“What's that supposed to mean?” she demanded indignantly.
“That was a compliment,” Freya explained sweetly. “He was congratulating you on committing the perfect crime. It was you who killed your president, wasn’t it?”
Yau gave a very un-ladylike snort.
“I won't even dignify this ridiculous accusation with a reply,” she said.
“No?” Tyr asked. “But it would make so much sense for you to kill Lee, and then arrange for me to take the blame. You know full well that no Castalian would ever believe an innocent Nietzschean.”
“Your own behaviour is proof enough for that,” Freya added. “And you had the specs on Tyr’s weapon – by your own request, if I may add.”
Yau shook her head in honest exasperation. “That's insane,” she said. “Why would I do that? Lee was like a father to me.”
“After he had ordered the death of your family – that of all people,” Tyr answered.
“Sebastian Lee never made that order!” Yau protested vehemently. “Why should he have his fellow humans killed and allow some of those bastards to escape?”
“Nobody is perfect,” Tyr commented dryly. “He made a mistake, it seems.”
“No, he didn’t,” Yau said determinedly. “If I believed for one minute that he did, I would have killed him myself.”
“May we have that in writing?” Freya asked with a sickeningly sweet smile.
Yau glared at her for a moment, eyes filled with old pain and bone-deep hatred. Then she turned on her heel and practically fled from their presence, overwhelmed by bitter memories.
Freya looked after her thoughtfully. “That was… interesting.”
“Indeed,” Tyr agreed. “Now, that my memories start returning, I can remember Lee saying something about that I’d ‘never find what I’m looking for’ without his help.”
“The Völsung?” Freya guessed. Tyr nodded.
“Apparently, some of them have escaped, after all. I’ll have to find them.”
“Of course,” Freya said. “They are your people. Do you believe that Yau knows something?”
“Possibly. But she’d never tell me.”
“You’ll have to search for every Nietzschean name in the Castalian records,” Freya said gloomily. “If they allow you to take a look at them, that is.”
“I don’t intend to ask their permission,” Tyr growled. “Maybe I can persuade Harper to hack into their archive. If not, there’s always the Perseids.”
“Why would they help you?” Freya asked doubtfully. “Our people aren’t exactly popular on Sinti IV, either.”
“True, but they need alliances aboard this ship just as much as we do,” Tyr shrugged. “I don’t believe that someone of Höhne’s importance would come personally, if they didn’t have their own hidden agenda.”
“Which would be – what?” Freya asked. Tyr shrugged again.
“I don’t know. Not yet, anyway, although I’d like to find out. Maybe they want access to the ship, to see if they could get their hands on it someway.”
“But you won’t let them do tat, will you?” That wasn’t really a question, but Tyr answered it anyway.
“No, I won’t,” he said with a wolfish grin. “Well, since I seem to be cleared from suspicion, I’ll go to the command deck and see how the investigations go.”
“Be careful,” Freya warned. “There are still Castalians all over the ship.”
“Don’t worry,” Tyr kissed her soundly. “I am always careful.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Reaching the command deck, he found Dylan and Beka in the middle of a slightly amused conversation.
“So, Harper confessed to the murder, huh?” Beka was asking, just as he entered.
“He tried, Dylan replied, shaking his head.
“What was his excuse?” Tyr asked incredulously, not believing it for a second. Not that he’d think Harper incapable of killing someone if necessary, he just couldn’t think of a sound reason for the engineer killing Lee.
Dylan gave him a distracted glance. “Oh, hi Tyr. Well, he said he ‘didn't like their stupid fish music’. But basically, I think he just wanted to save Rommie.”
“He wanted to sacrifice himself to save a machine?” Tyr rolled his eyes. “The boy is clearly insane.”
“Everyone keep telling him that,” Beka said, “but personally, I think his heart's in the right place. He’d do the same for you, Tyr.”
“Which would be just as insane,” Tyr pointed out.
“Well, I appreciate his loyalty,” Dylan said. “But what we really need is solve this crime. I hope he’ll be able to track down the hacker.”
“I dunno, Dylan,” Beka said with a shrug. “Maybe we should cut our losses. Is Castalia truly worth all the effort? There are a million other worlds out there…”
“Plenty of fish in the sea?” Dylan asked dryly.
“You said it, not me,” Beka replied with an innocent smile. Dylan shook his head.
“My problem isn't leaving… although, with the Perseids and the Than on board, we’d need a damn good reason to do that. My problem is the statement we'd be making that this ship and her crew are somehow above the law, that we're better than the people we're trying to help.”
Beka raised an eyebrow. “Aren't we?”
“Sure we are,” Tyr countered; coming from him, it didn’t exactly sound like a joke. Maybe it wasn’t even intended to.
At Dylan’s dark look, Beka laughed. “Hey! I read the first officer's job description. Play devil's advocate's on page three.”
“Get thee behind me, Satan,” Dylan muttered darkly; then, glancing at Tyr, he added. “Both of you.”
Tyr grinned, but before he could have even thought of a snarky reply, Harper burst in, in a most excited state.
“Dylan, you're not gonna believe this,” he exclaimed.
Beka rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. You're not gonna confess again, are you?”
“I'll resent that tomorrow,” Harper replied blithely, “but for now...” he nudged Dylan away from the console, “excuse me... check this out.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
About twenty minutes later, the core crew, once again, gathered on the Observations deck. Born to Starfire was present, too, flanked by Radiance of Wisdom, and so were the Perseids, the Nietzscheans and President Chandos with his aides. Even the Makra passenger made an appearance, watching the unfolding scene with great interest.
“Are you certain that this is gong to work?” Tyr asked Harper in a low voice. The engineer shot him and exasperated look.
“Would I risk Rommie’s existence otherwise?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tyr paused. “This… action of yours is going to reveal a crime committed against my people as well as prove my innocence. I owe you for that.”
Harper glanced at him warily. “No offence, Tyr, but I couldn’t care less about what happened a bunch of Über slavers. I’m doing this to save Rommie.”
“I know that,” Tyr replied, “but you have my gratitude nevertheless, as the outcome serves my purposes just as well. Intentions are irrelevant. It’s that actions what count. Which means that I owe you. Should you need my help somewhen in the future, you can count on it.”
“As long as it won’t endanger your survival,” Harper said cynically.
“Of course,” Tyr smirked. “Although I might be willing to take a… certain amount of risk, if necessary.
Harper’s reaction was most amusing – a look half doubt, half incredulous surprise – but he couldn’t continue his little chat with the engineer. Dylan Hunt cleared his throat and stepped up to the podium, looking directly into the ever-present camera of the Castalian press, to address the people who were watching the broadcast directly.
“This is Captain Dylan Hunt of the High Guard,” he announced solemnly. “Investigation has shown that an Artificial Intelligence was involved in the tragic death of your president. In such a case, Commonwealth law demands that the AI's personality be completely erased. I invite you, the people of the Castalian Republic, to observe the law in action. Bring in the prisoner.”
Two Than warriors, namely Celestial Fire and Soaring Winds, led Rommie in. The avatar wore a formal High Guard uniform and looked remarkably calm for an AI who was about to be erased… of course, being a machine probably helped. Harper, still standing next to Tyr, seemed a lot more anxious. In fact, he was fidgeting nervously.
The Nietzschean smirked again. “Getting cold feet, little man?”
“Just see that your force lance won’t malfunction,” Harper hissed.
“It won’t,” Tyr stated calmly, “unless you’ve made a mistake.”
“I don’t make mistakes,” Harper countered angrily; then he apparently remembered the few times when he had made mistakes, because he hurriedly added. “At least, uh, not often. And most definitely none of the technical sort, ya know?”
“Then be quiet and stay prepared,” Tyr said, moving a step or two away from both him and Freya, just to be sure that he won’t injure them by accident.
“President Chandos will bear witness,” Dylan continued, “as I give the codes which will destroy the Andromeda intelligence. Andromeda Ascendant, are you ready?”
“Yes, Captain, I am ready,” Rommie answered calmly.
“Wait a minute!” Beka interrupted when Dylan was about to enter the codes. “We forgot to play the president’s entrance music.”
She touched a button, and the… noise Harper had nicknamed ‘fish music’ started playing. Farrendahl closed her eyes in almost physical pain, her tufted ears twitched. Makra appeared to be particularly… sensitive to certain Castalian frequencies.
Surprisingly enough – at least for those not filled in in advance – President Chandos’ face showed a considerable amount of panic, too.
“Oh, I… I don’t think that would be truly necessary,” he stammered, but Beka ‘Tsk, Tsk’-ed him.
“Now, we want to observe proper protocol,” she replied sweetly. “Is it not what Castalian society is all about?”
“No,” Chandos shouted, seriously panicking now, as Tyr’s force lance started firing, seemingly on its own. “No, no, please, no, stop,” he practically begged, trying to run away, and getting off the presidential armour at the same time.
Dylan gave him the royal eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
“This is a mistake,” Chandos was still ducking from the bullets, working on getting rid of the presidential armour desperately. “I don't understand…”
“Of course you do,” Tyr said with a grim smile. “You're the one that loaded the computer virus into the presidential music.”
“Which is why you never played any for yourself,” Beka added, switching off the annoying noise before anyone could have got sot in the chaos. Farrendahl gave a relieved sigh. The shooting didn’t upset her a bit, but the so-called music…
“After Tyr's behaviour provided you with the perfect cover, you directed Andromeda to kill President Lee,” Dylan continued mercilessly.
“To be accurate, he gave the instruction to kill the man in the presidential breastplate,” Rommie corrected, and Harper nodded, with an almost insane gleam of professional enjoyment in his eyes.
“Recognition software is dicey, isn’t it,” he said gleefully, “and you Castalians, you all look so much alike. Excluding, of course, Colonel Yau,” the woman in question snorted at this, but Harper continued anyway. “It was much safer to tell Rommie to target the guy with the dish on his chest than to tell her to shoot at a guy with tubes sticking out of his fishneck. That’d have resulted in multiple victims, wouldn’t it?”
Chandos didn’t show much regret. Actually, he showed no regret at all. “It was a good plan, you must admit.”
Harper shrugged, disgust showing clearly on his mobile face. “You needed better music.”
“Ulysses Chandos, I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of President Lee,” Colonel Yau announced. After a short pause, she added mournfully. “I don't understand what made you do this. You were already gonna succeed him. Why now? You just had to wait a few more days…”
“…for his resignation,” Chandos finished for her. “You see, exactly that was the problem. Please... please stop the camera. I want to talk to Colonel Yau and Captain Hunt in private.”
“Oh no, you won’t,” Tyr growled angrily. “You’d have me executed publicly – you’re not going to hide your skeletons in any cupboards.”
“I’d prefer to know the whole truth, myself,” Born to Starfire stated calmly. “If my government is going to sign the Commonwealth Charter, we need to know what possible motivations the other potential members might have.”
“Sinti IV must be informed about these events as well,” Höhne said. “About all of the events, and their backgrounds. If we can’t trust each other, what good would do to sign the Charter in the first place?”
“I tend to agree,” Dylan said. “Let’s compromise. The press clears the deck, so does any non-essential personnel. But the representatives of the Than and Sinti IV stay. Agreed?”
“I won’t leave,” Tyr said. “This man tried to get me executed for a crime committed by himself. I have a right to know the truth.”
“All right,” Dylan sighed impatiently. “But everyone leaves. NOW.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They all waited while Castalians, low-ranking Than, Freya, Rekeeb and Farrendahl left, then Dylan turned to the newly elected President.
“We are listening.”
“You have to understand,” Chandos began. “ What I did, I did for Castalia.”
Yau shot him a murderous glare. One that would’ve made any Nietzschean Matriarch proud. Obviously, having been a slave of the Völsung had rubbed off a little. “You're lying.“
Chandos shook his head in resignation. “I wish I would. Unfortunately, that’s the truth. You both know that Lee was going to resign after the charter ratification, but have you seen his resignation speech?”
“No,” Yau said. “Why should we? It was his business, not ours.”
“Well, I have,” Chandos said grimly. “He couldn't leave well-enough alone. His damn ego. He didn't want to just be a hero. He wanted to be a saint. But we both know there are no saints on the battlements, are there, Captain?”
“No,” Dylan said with something akin to regret in his voice, so that Beka started wondering about some of the missions he might have been ordered to go on during the heydays of the old Commonwealth. “Not really.”
“The Völsung Aerie Orbital Habitat did not explode by accident, did it?” Tyr asked softly.
“No,” Chandos replied. “Lee ordered its destruction. I know. I was there. We both agreed.”
“Agreed,” Tyr repeated with eerie calmness. “You both agreed to massacre seventy-five thousand non-combatant old people. And the women and children. What a truly Nietzschean attitude: never let your enemy escape when you can kill him. You could make me proud, after all.”
Chandos ignored him, directing his words to Dylan only. “I assume you know how it is with the super-men, Captain. You let them go, and they'll come back stronger than before. There are no non-combatant Nietzscheans. A three-year-old will disembowel a man.”
“Now you are exaggerating,” Dylan said.
“He’s not,” Tyr replied. “Not by much, that is. Combat training usually started at the age of six in Kodiak Pride. I assume the Völsung practice was similar.”
Nobody paid him any real attention. All the others were too deeply shocked to hear that his accusations were justified, after all. Sebastian Lee had been a legend, even beyond the borders of his own world. He had admirers among other races as well, for forging the Castalian Republic… since they had no idea about the method of said forging.
“What about the labourers?” Yau asked, almost tonelessly. Her face was a lifeless mask. She was clearly in shock. “The slaves?”
Chandos shrugged. Unlike Sebastian Lee, he never cared much for air-breathers… or for other Castalian minorities, for that matter. “Collateral damage. A small price to pay for freedom. Or so we thought.”
“I don't believe you,” Yau whispered. “You’re just trying to justify your crime.”
“Oh, the record's clear, Colonel,” Chandos replied with a grim smile. “Your hero, he had feet of clay... bloody clay, at that. But even worse, he had a conscience.”
“What’s wrong with having a conscience?” Rev Bem asked mildly. “Isn’t conscience the tool of the Divine to lead us on the right path?”
Chandos gave the Magog an openly disgusted look. “That might work for a monk. But if Lee had confessed, the air-breathers would have demanded blood vengeance.”
“Could you blame them?” Beka muttered under her breath. Harper shrugged.
“I’d surely have done the same. What a self-righteous bastard. I swear you, boss, this is almost worse than the Niets themselves.”
Chandos either didn’t hear them or chose not to pay any attention. “The water-breathers, they would've resisted, and we would've been faced with a civil war. I tried to talk him out of it. I told him he was putting too much trust in his people, but he... of course, he would not listen. He left me no choice. I had to save the republic.”
“By killing the man who created it,” Dylan said dryly. “Somehow, I’m not buying your arguments, Mr. President.”
“You must let me go,” Chandos argued. “We can find someone else to blame for Lee's murder, or leave it unsolved. But we can't let the truth come out. It will destroy us all. Castalia and your Commonwealth.”
“If you think I'll cooperate in a cover-up, you're mistaken,” Dylan said in disgust. “Colonel, your prisoner.”
After Colonel Yau had led the now ex-president of the Castalian Republic out of the Observations Deck, Dylan looked around.
“Any objections?”
Höhne was the first to answer. “While I basically agree with you, Captain Hunt, I must point out that you are taking a great risk. What if the Castalian parliament chooses not to ratify your Commonwealth Charter, after all?”
Dylan shrugged. “As Beka would say: there are plenty of other fish in the sea.”
TBC
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chapter 6
Date: 2005-01-08 08:37 pm (UTC)i check fanfiction.net everyday to see if you posted a new chapter.
ardath3
Re: chapter 6
Date: 2005-01-08 08:43 pm (UTC)I'm not exactly sure what will happen between Tyr and Harper. But since they are my favourites as well, I'll try to give them plenty of opportunity to shine.
As for FF.net, you can put the story on the Author Alert list so you'd be informed immediately when it's updated. Assuming, you are able to log in, that is. Still no luck for me. *curses*