Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was… aware. That was all he knew.

Then, he was aware of discomfort. A certain amount of pain. The coolness of whatever it was pressed against him ― or him against it? A metallic smell.

Then, a groan. And another one.

The sound of dragging. On a floor.

A voice, calling out… a name. His name. And other names. Urgent and familiar.

“…Captain. Dylan!”

More groans. Some of them coming from him.

He opened his eyes, needing a moment for the perpendicular world to come into focus.

It was the Andromeda’s bridge… and it looked like it had been a warzone recently. Blown panels, smudges, hanging wires and hoses, rubble from damage to the ceiling and walls.

Beka Valentine was nearby, supporting herself with her elbows as she raised her head to look around. Blinking rapidly, she had the expression of someone who had just been stunned by an overly bright light… or a blow to the head.

Behind her, Rommie quickly sprung up to her feet, seemingly none the worse for wear. Confusion was written on her frowning face, though.

A hand planted on each side, Dylan Hunt began to rise up, but settled for sitting on the floor. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed a still partly prone Seamus Harper looking back at him, mouth open and questions written on his face.

Next to Harper, Trance Gemini looked apprehensive, even shocked. And she looked… different. Not the ginger woman in a dress whom he expected, but… red-haired, with a gold-tinted skin that sparkled. Odd, Dylan thought.

Hearing a shifting sound behind him, he turned to see Telemachus Rhade rising shakily, looking as if he had a headache. Dylan noticed that his hair was short. Another unexpected feature.

“Ooh-kay… will anyone tell me what the hell just happened?” Harper queried.

From a working screen, Andromeda spoke up. “Well, you all regained consciousness within seconds of each other, less than half a minute after I rebooted. To further compound the strangeness of the situation, I have no data available on how any of you got here,” the ship’s core AI said airily.

Trance breathed sharply. “Something’s wrong,” she exclaimed in distress. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“What is it, Trance?” Dylan asked, sensing trouble.

“I… don’t know,” Trance seemed… lost.

“She’s right,” Beka said, back on her feet and exploring the bridge. “Our Andromeda wasn’t this damaged.” And yet, she was looking around with a frown as if she wasn’t entirely certain of that claim.

“Trance, why are you… you know…” Harper gesticulated at the woman in question.

“I don’t know,” she repeated. Extending her hands before her, turning them palm up then down, she considered herself with disbelief. “I… shouldn’t be here. Not like this.”

Rhade’s eyes went all over the bridge, as if he could find an answer if he looked hard enough.

“Rhade and Trance look like they did before Seefra,” Dylan mused.

“Seefra,” Harper gasped, eyes wide. “We were…” he trailed off.

Beka stared ahead, seemingly at nothing in particular. “In the Route of Ages… right? We were dragging Trance’s sun, and the Spirit of the Abyss, to… destroy it? But it all feels like…”

“A dream,” Rhade finished her thought. “I remember things, moments… but it’s all so… hazy,” he squinted.

Dylan tried to recollect what had happened before he woke up in this place. But try as he might, all he had were fragments, feelings, impressions about places and people and stretches of time that all seemed to blend together. And the more he tried to make sense to it, the more he had the sensation that it was running away from him, that he had forgotten so much already. Indeed, like after a vivid dream.

“You think we just… imagined it all?” Beka said, shaking her head. “But how did we all dream the same thing, then?”

Harper wagged a finger, taking a few steps toward their ship’s android avatar. “Hey, Rommie… you got anything? From Seefra?”

Blinking, she responded, “I do.”

“You do?” Harper was flabbergasted. Clearly he hadn’t expected that.

“Yes. But it’s… fragmentary,” she said. “A lot of our data is damaged, corrupted. There’s a lot that I can’t piece together, but there are some good records, at least.”

Andromeda’s holographic avatar materialized and took over where Rommie left off. “What’s strange is that, when compared to the ship’s internal clock, the Seefra files are dated to the future.”

“What?!” Dylan exclaimed.

But Trance nodded, finally seeming to have gotten past her shock. “I don’t think we went through to that system. It seems like just one possible but unrealized future.”

“I thought you couldn’t tell the difference?” Dylan countered.

“I’m here, Dylan. And I’m like… this,” she indicated her own body. “Yet I know that I sacrificed myself. I should be… dead. And none of us should be here.”

“So, we were here, and then we were in Seefra, right?” Harper said quickly, eyes darting between his various crewmates. To their nods, he continued, “Then we, err…” he frowned, jogging his memory, “we nailed the Abyss, and were supposed to exit the Route of Ages. Via slipstream. And we ended up… here,” he splayed his hands.

“That would be accurate, assuming that those events truly happened” Holo-Andromeda nodded placidly.

“Andromeda, you said that the internal clock shows a different time,” Rhade recalled. “What time is it? And where are we?”

“Current stardate is CY 10091, day 4. Functioning passive sensors show that we are in the Nirvana system.”

“Nirvana system?! That’s where the Arkology is,” Rhade exclaimed.

“Correct. Star positions indicate that the internal time is correct, and that two weeks have passed since our battle with the Magog Worldship,” Andromeda pointed out, far calmer than any of the others appeared to be, with the exception of Rommie.

“Err… are they still here? The Magog?” Harper asked, a certain amount of dread apparent in his voice.

“With the amount of damage to my systems, I can’t be sure,” Andromeda replied. “However, if they are still present within the system, they are not currently anywhere near us.”

“Oh, thank god,” Harper let out a breath.

“What about inside the ship?” Beka inquired. Harper’s eyes darted to her, alert.

“I don’t know,” Andromeda responded. Suddenly, everyone shared worried looks with each other.

“But we’re working on it,” Rommie reassured them. “We’re attempting to reroute from damaged systems, and should have access to the internal feeds shortly. Hopefully.”

“Well, I’m ready to roll. I’ll fix you up in no time,” Harper offered.

“No need,” Andromeda stated. “At least not right now. I’ve just re-established partial response from internal sensors, though I have little or no data from decks 10 through 23, 40 through 45 and 53 through 63. I can, however, tell you that we have intruders on board.”

“Aw, hell,” Harper held up his arms and let them drop with a thud.

“Great, waking up to a party” Beka quipped.

Rhade took out his force lance.

“So, who are our guests?” Dylan queried.

Looking upward, the hologram began, “Quite the variety of people. We have a squad of six Kalderans, currently engaged in a literal firefight with a power-suited Pyrian on Deck 9. A group of four Nietzscheans, Mandau Pride by their markings, are making their way through Deck 28. Two others from Drago-Kazov Pride are on Deck 50, currently exchanging fire with and retreating from nine Magog, one of whom is of the evolved variant. Three of their Pride brethren are dead.”

“Oh, great,” Harper commented.

“Reminds me of that time we had tesseracts all over the place,” Beka recalled. “That’s gotta be it.” She shook her head, obviously not thrilled at the prospect.

“We don’t see any sign of active tesseracting happening now, though,” Rommie countered.

“There’s more,” Holo-Andromeda continued. “Ten Ogami are running through Deck 37, and may meet up with the group of four Genite stormtroopers who are headed in their general direction. There’s a dead Inari and two dead baseline Humans in a depressurized area of Deck 47, and a Pyrian who apparently asphyxiated on Deck 8, thanks to having no protective gear for our atmosphere. There’s also a lone, unarmed Perseid in the hydroponic garden. He seems very confused,” Andromeda finished on a mildly concerned note.

Dylan sighed. “Would that be all of them?”

“Uncertain,” Andromeda responded. “I have no way to know what is happening in the areas where I have no sensory input. There are likely to be more people there.”

“Sounds like the nanobots are a no-go?” Harper asked, referring to the ship’s additional method of surveilance.

“They are unresponsive,” the AI confirmed.

“Do you see any sign of others from our crew?” Beka asked.

“Negative,” Andromeda replied. Something flashed on Beka’s face, a momentary burst of grief.

“Nobody?” Harper said quietly, his horrified glances going between Rommie and Andromeda’s hologram.

Rommie shook her head. She seemed sad and sympathetic to their sorrow and disbelief.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dylan admitted dejectedly. “They were all dead by the time I reached the Route of Ages.”

“Yes. Nothing could be done for them at that time,” Trance confirmed, a haunted look in her eyes.

For several moments, a despondent quiet descended over the crew assembled in the Command Center.

Their Nietzschean crewmate broke the silence, voice steady and determined. “We’ll have time to mourn them later. Right now, we have a ship to regain control of.” He raised his force lance and tapped it for emphasis.

“Out of the fire, and into the frying pan we come,” Beka remarked.

“Do you have internal defenses online?” Rhade asked their AI’s hologram.

“No. I will need help with restoring them,” she addressed Harper.

“You got it, hon! The Harper is on the way!” Seamus pointed both index fingers at the hologram. He seemed to be trying to get back into his element, though the still apparent grief made the cheer seem forced.

“Rommie,” Dylan spoke, “You’ll be with him. Get us internal defense, then see if you can reach all the remaining sensors,” he instructed.

Rommie nodded.

“Oh, what about artificial gravity?” Beka inquired. “Would be nice to just have them kiss the floor.”

“Unresponsive as well. We’re stuck on the current settings for now,” Andromeda said.

“Andromeda, seal off as many sections as you can. I want our ‘guests’ slowed down as much as possible,” Dylan said.

“Already done,” the core AI said from the nearby screen. The hologram, having looked her way, then just nodded to Dylan in confirmation.

“Our buddies all seem to have come separately from each other. So… we pick ‘em off one by one?” Beka suggested.

“Well, don’t shoot unless they’re hostile,” Dylan answered. “Though I’m guessing a lot of them will be. But yeah, one at a time. Best not split up unless they’re getting near Harper and Rommie, or about to do something dangerous to the ship. Keep us posted on that, Andromeda.”

“I will, Dylan.”

“I suggest we start with the Mandau,” Rhade proposed. “They’re relatively close, and not busy with anyone else. Could become a problem.”

“We’ll do that,” Dylan concurred. “Let’s go, everyone.”

Chapter Text

Why did they have to be bloody tanks?

The Mandau had been so much easier. Those four Nietzscheans had refused to stand down, answering Dylan’s order with gunfire. Fortunately, they seemed to be low-to-mid-grade mercs, and didn’t stand much of a chance against seasoned enemies who had the home ground advantage.

But these were Ogami, and they meant business.

Squinting and aiming her pistol, Beka was trying to land a hit on one of the two Ogami who were taking shots at them with their gauss guns. She was looking for an opening, any sort of weakness, but these were not the bare-chested pirates who had attacked the Bellerophon. These guys were armored head-to-toe, and they had shields. The four Andromeda crew members had specifically chosen to ambush the five remaining Ogami in Cargo Bay 4, where the crew had the advantage of cover, unlike the Ogami who would arrive in the part of the bay with no boxes or any significant cover.

“Gaah!” Dylan could be heard amid the sounds of guns blazing and the clangs of metal hitting metal.

It was meant to be a turkey shoot… but the turkeys seemed almost immune to their fire. Before the crew could reassess their tactic, Dylan and Rhade were already engaged in pitched melee combat, and it was hard for Beka to get a clear shot at their assailants given how quickly they all moved and changed positions. So she instead focused on one of the two Ogami who went to their sides, in an apparent attempt to flank them. The right-side one. But the bastard didn’t seem to be too bothered by her bullets, and knew how to use his shield to block most of them anyway. She’d have complimented his training, if he wasn’t trying to kill her.

Trance seemed to have some luck shooting the one currently engaged with Rhade; Beka guessed that it might have something to do with Trance’s precognitive ability. But that one, too, was still standing and fighting no less intensely.

Seeing that this was going nowhere, Beka decided to change tack. “Force lance it is,” she muttered to herself as she took out the oblong object from its holster. She still wasn’t as comfortable or experienced with the High Guard standard-issue weapon, but it was versatile and could quickly switch between alternative firing modes. And right now, alternatives were what she needed. She switched firing mode to effectors.

Leaning to the right past the box she used for cover, she noticed that her Ogami ‘friend’ was getting worryingly close. He pointed his gun at her, but not before she released the effector drones from her lance and pulled back to her shelter. The homing bullets found their target without error; while she couldn’t be sure of the sound over the din of the battle, she thought she heard a yell from the direction of the impacted Ogami. Taking a quick glance, she saw that he had paused shortly, but was still very much on his feet and resuming his run.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she swore. Okay, this requires the Overkill Option, Beka concluded. Or, as Harper had called it, Bokor Shokkor.

She set the force lance to heavy shocker mode. That gave her three shots at best before the weapon’s energy core was depleted, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Even before she leaned to take her shot, Beka heard a shock discharge from another force lance nearby. Somebody else got her idea already; she hoped it worked for them just as she did it would for herself.

In a quick whirl, she decided to look up and over the box, since the Ogami might expect her to lean out in the same place as before. She aimed and fired at the Ogami before he could do the same to her. He nevertheless did manage to get off a shot, but it flew past her head to the left. She, however, did manage to hit him squarely in the neck; convulsing, he finally went down.

Ducking back for a moment, she then leaned to the left to ascertain how her friends were doing. She saw that two Ogami remained standing, one with an axe and a shield, the other wielding an impressively large sword. A powerful kick by the sword-wielding Ogami had Dylan on the floor, but he managed to recover quickly enough to aim his extended force lance at the Ogami in question, letting off a shock blast. That dispatched another enemy, leaving only Rhade’s opponent. The two of them seemed evenly matched, but now this final Ogami also had to deal with Beka, Trance and Dylan. It turned out that Trance was the one who got the last shot, one that went right next to Rhade’s armpit just as he had lifted his arm. The final Ogami was lethally shocked and went down.

“What the―” a bewildered Rhade looked back, noticing Trance’s outstretched hand and force lance. “I felt that! You could’ve fried me!” he bellowed indignantly.

“That was unlikely,” Trance said placatingly, her face something between apologetic and ‘oopsie’. “Felt like a good shot. Besides, there was a chance he’d have slashed you with that thing in a moment,” she pointed at the axe, which had clanged to the floor moments earlier.

“I had him,” Rhade said, calmer. “And you know I did. You could see it.”

“Whatever you say, Telemachus,” she smiled as she looked around the bay.

Rhade rolled his eyes.

Quiet descended on the cargo bay as they kept a look out for any newly arrived enemies, just in case. Realizing that they were alone, the four took a moment to recover. Dylan and Rhade needed it, given how physically taxing it was to fight three experienced Ogami warriors in close range. Dylan in particular was out of breath, though the kick to his midsection may have contributed to that.

“How many… shocks… did you use?” He asked them in between labored breaths.

“Just the one,” Beka said. Trance did two; the first one being the Ogami on their left flank since Rhade had been busy, and the other being the risky-looking shot at Rhade’s close-quarters opponent.

“Where to next?” Rhade asked.

Andromeda’s hologram appeared next to them, startling Beka and Dylan. “I suggest heading toward Maintenance Tunnel 30-16. The Pyrian soldier has defeated the Kalderans and is headed toward the bridge; my avatar decided to intercept them.”

“Rommie,” Dylan nodded. They set off running, going through corridors and up staircases and ladders. With their intimate knowledge of the ship, they could make their way through it quickly, but going up and down decks so much left them increasingly winded.

They heard the action before they saw it. Then, turning a bend in the corridor, they saw flashes and the smell reached them. Beka made a face, the thick, acrid smoke making it harder to breathe.

Approaching the entrance to Lounge 30-B, they positioned themselves close to the walls and moved ahead cautiously. A force lance was intermittently firing plasma discharges; they also heard an unfamiliar sort of energy blast sound, the whoosh of fire, and the hits of metal against metal.

Using hand signals, Dylan silently told them to go ahead together and open fire on his mark. They prowled ahead, Dylan and Rhade in front and ready to close in, Beka and Trance right behind them.

The interior of the lounge before them was now more visible, despite the haze; they could see that finding cover would be difficult, given that seemingly anything flammable was already on fire.

For a moment, they saw Rommie land about two dozen meters in front of them; she immediately dodged to the left as a plasma blast sailed through where she had just been standing. Within a split second, Rommie made a long jump ahead, firing from an extended force lance as she did so.

Reaching the doorway, they saw that most of the door ― which should have been sealed ― was lying just inside the lounge. Apparently, the Pyrian had used a plasma cutter to push through.

Carefully glancing inside, they were greeted by quite the breathtaking scene. Sofas and chairs that had caught fire, burnt plants and blazing trees. In between the flames, Rommie danced gracefully as she dodged the fire of the power-suited Pyrian who was floating some six or seven meters above her; the android managed to evade the near-constant fire of a pair of plasma pistols, as well as the literal fire of a flamethrower.

The Pyrian used all six of its tentacles to great effect; in addition to the aforementioned three, two more held what looked like a quarterstaff with knife-size blades at each end, and the final one held something that was most likely some sort of submachine gun. That one wasn’t being fired; Beka soon got an indication why, as the Pyrian used the opportunity to liberate a tentacle from the staff in order to reload the gun in question. However, the alien soldier did not manage to complete the action, given that Rommie found an opening to jump unnaturally high for a Human and attack the Pyrian with the ends of her force lance staff. The enemy had to rapidly retract the tentacle back to its staff in order to protect itself, thus remaining unable to utilize the gun to spray Rommie with bullets.

Falling back down, their android crewmate continued her deadly dance of dodging the plasma and the flame jet while returning fire of her own. It wasn’t that she was that much faster-moving compared to a Human; more that her reaction time and processing of the situation was unparalleled. Rommie could simultaneously follow the movements of all six tentacles, and know each one’s firing line and rate of fire.

On Dylan’s signal, the four at the doorway unloaded on the Pyrian with plasma shots. The alien was momentarily surprised by the new enemies, turning toward them. As the pistol-wielding tentacles aligned with them and the flamethrower began to spew flaming death, Dylan yelled “Back!”, though it wasn’t really necessary; all of them had already begun falling back and out of sight. Beka felt hot air blowing as the fire went past the door.

A moment later, there was a loud bang, and then silence.

She shared a look with Trance.

“You can come in now,” Rommie shouted from the lounge.

So they did. Then they started coughing, and Beka felt sweat beginning to form as they entered a sweltering, smoky haze of a room. There, in the center, Rommie stood next to the Pyrian’s corpse. Apparently, she had used its moment of distraction to land a killing blow.

“You okay?” Dylan asked.

Rommie blinked and nodded. Beka thought that she did not look ‘okay’; Rommie’s left leg was badly burnt, her right arm’s metallic skeleton and electronics were exposed, with caked white superconducting fluid leaking in places. There were still burning embers on a part of her pants.

“Err, you have…” Beka indicated the area in question, eyebrows raised.

The android avatar looked downward, then patted out the flame.

“Impressive work,” Rhade said placidly, indicating the dead Pyrian.

“Thanks,” Rommie gave a slight nod. “You didn’t need to come, though. I had it under control.”

“That’s what he said,” Beka indicated Rhade, chuckling. He gave her a look.

“Andromeda didn’t seem as convinced,” Trance noted, addressing Rommie.

The android made a face of mock-frustration. “She worries too much.”

Coughing fiercely, her eyes tearing up from the smoke and the heat, Beka had quite enough of this hellish bonfire of a lounge. “How about we continue this outside?” she suggested, voice strained.

“Of course, I’m sorry,” Rommie said and led the way out through the exit opposite of the one they had come through.

Hacking their lungs out, their eyes tearing, they took a minute to recover in the corridor beyond.

“Status?” Dylan inquired.

“The four Genites are dead, though they had managed to take out some of the Ogami before you fought them,” Rommie began. “The two remaining Dragans are trapped in Cargo Bay 11. They’re taking a stand against the Magog, and using the terrain to their advantage. The Magog are all using gauss rifles, but their discipline is lacking. Five have already fallen. Only their leader seems to possess sound tactical thinking,” she commented. Then, frowning, she added, “He just shot one of the Dragans.”

“What about the other groups?” Beka asked.

“Auditory sensors in a functioning section of Deck 43 have registered sounds of gunfire in the distance, but I have no visual information about what’s happening at the battle’s location.”

“We can check it out on our way to the Magog,” Rhade suggested.

“You may want to belay that,” Rommie said in a tone which spelled trouble, frowning again. “A platoon of Nightsiders just managed to punch their way through a door on Deck 40 and enter sensor range. They are well-armed and seem to be mercenaries.”

“A platoon?!” Dylan exclaimed. “Harper, now would be a good time for those internal defenses!”

“Working on it, boss!” came the engineer’s voice through their earpieces.

“He needs to work faster,” Dylan muttered. “Rommie, go back and help him.”

“Aye, sir. Will you be okay?” she inquired.

“We’ll find a good kill zone, and retreat the moment we need to,” the captain assured her.

“I suggest Warehouse 16, upper floor,” the android avatar said.

“Will do. Now go,” Dylan hurried her along.

With a nod, Rommie ran off down the corridor.

Even with the terrain advantage, Beka didn’t like those odds. “They better get those auto-guns working, stat,” the first officer said.

Judging from the grim silence of her crewmates, they shared her thoughts.