Work Text:
Allegiance
by Ana
(anacondagrrl@angelfire.com)
It is more than disorienting not to know who he is.
He thinks he hates the Kazov, and it is clear he is not alone in those feelings. The boy oozes hatred and frustration, beyond his words alone. He is not surprised to wake to a gun in his face, nor is he surprised at the automatic reaction of his body.
Perhaps the memories will return, but in the meantime, he needs shelter and food. He needs the help of the humans. This entails behaviour that will make them trust him.
He wonders why he does not feel more contempt for them, why he simply doesn't tell them what to do. Kludges. Humans, there to be subjugated, or at best, disdained. He should feel secure in his rightful place above them. He is more fit, better. He cannot remember who he is, but he knows how he is supposed to feel. There are no images, the knowledge is almost like genetic memory.
Instead, he recognises that the woman is a survivor. She looks like fisherfolk at first, nothing but ordinary. There's more to her, and he feels the urge to see it.
The boy tugs on the edges of memory. The attitude, the way he stands. The contempt and fearful hate is familiar. Flashes of almost-recognition, short human, light hair. Why would he know such a human? A slave, perhaps?
He feels protective towards them. It is the feeling he's supposed to reserve for the mother of his children, his progeny.
The thought creates a pang. As sure as he is that whatever is in the container is something he would die for, he's also certain that there is no mother to his children. There are no children.
* * *
The ship is a wreck, nothing is familiar. It has been patched together almost haphazardly in some places. Looking closely, he sees the level of skill behind the repairs. There is imagination, perhaps desperation, behind them, and he know they were not done by his hand. Shipmates. He feels almost-concern at the realisation that they are missing. Or perhaps, dead.
Inventory of the ship, quickly accomplished, reveals multiple weapons, not only suited to his hand. There are small projects started and discarded; some flowers, dried, and seeds. Bits of technology that seem both antiquated and advanced; a hideous shirt of outrageous colours, something no Nietzschean would ever wear. Any identifying information has been cleared away, but his enemies were not thorough enough to seek out all the small personal items stowed here and there, most likely forgotten even by their owners.
He shares this ship with others who are not like him. It perhaps partly explains his lack of contempt for the humans who are providing him with shelter.
* * *
They return to the woman's hut to find the boy threatened by local scum. He does as she asks and watches out of view while she resists them, as the boy reacts and is pulled back, brutally. Memories flash again, another human, defiant even when in fear. Defiant with him, or defiant to him? Or both?
It is time to act, so he steps forward, announces his presence, triggering more memories of firing weapons, exercising.
He shakes his head, pushes the images away and does as the humans tell him. On his knees, he lashes out, feels his bone spurs sink deep. He registers the look of astonishment on the boy's face. A Nietzschean protecting a human? He's seen the same look before, somewhere.
* * *
She, Yvaine, is interesting, brave enough to seek out his ship, strong enough to tell him how his actions can affect her life.
Yvaine speaks of the loss of her family, and he remembers the loss of his own. He remembers telling another of this, a woman with long, light hair. Her image almost evokes the protection of wife-mother-of-child.
Yvaine is a mother. She is a good mother.
As he thinks this, the Kazov land.
* * *
He makes preparations to leave, brushing aside Breyon's offers of help; brave, but misguided. Overworked, poorly-armed humans are no match for Kazov warriors.
Attempting to move the locked container leads to confrontation. The Kazov get clumsy, lost in perceived triumph and dreams of fatherhood. They are easily defeated. He knows he has faced much worse.
The one who remains alive, he forces to carry the container. It is his, but this one can carry the burden until he collapses.
Safety. More flashes of a blonde woman. A human male who looks at him with concealed wariness and obvious dislike. A Magog.
The memories are a flood, and he knows now what he has with him, and the reasons for the death of his family. His people.
The body of the Progenitor. It is *his*. It is the last thing truly his.
* * *
Waiting in the boat, found again by the human woman, he hears Breyon's voice cry out, almost certainly a trap.
Hostages are tactics of the weak. The Kazov have let power make them cowards, dependents, and they do not even realise it has happened. They are arrogant in their sense of infallibility. Confidence is a Nietzschean trait. Arrogance can interfere with survival.
He makes sure they know this.
* * *
He's made too many mistakes. He let the ship become infected with the nanobots. He let himself feel something for the humans, letting them be used against him. He twice let people live whom he should have killed.
At least the Kazov took care of the human thug for him.
Once, he wouldn't have made these mistakes.
More humans arrive, well armed and with the looks of fighters, survivors. He recognises them, his memories are almost whole. Easily, they dispatch the rest of the Nietzscheans.
Yvaine asks if they are his friends.
His friends?
Friends mean allegiances, connections. Has he made connections? He looks at her, and he thinks of their conversations. He thinks of the odd times he's almost felt at home on the Andromeda. Dylan, Beka, even the purple girl at times, they offer him allegiance, attempts at connection. Most of them.
Yes. They are his friends.
* * *
He doesn't really expect Yvaine to accept the offer to come with them. A life in space, confined on a ship, is not for her. She wants peace, anonymity. They can't give her that. He wants to make sure, though, that she hears his offer of allegiance. It's all he really can do to repay her.
* * *
The Maru docks inside the Andromeda and they prepare to disembark. The grav field on the casket works, now that he has voice activation. He contemplates switching it on, but decides against it. He will carry this burden. His burden.
Hoisting the casket onto his back, he grunts slightly at the weight. Dylan and Beka look at him oddly, but they make no comments, for which he is grateful. Leaving the docking bay, they head in different directions.
He walks slowly towards his quarters, the familiar walls of the Andromeda triggering more memories. False invasions and other High Guard ships. Sun coronas and radiation sickness; backwards time travel and mass killings. He arrives at his quarters and deposits the casket.
The strength of the entire Kodiak pride was not enough to keep the corpse of the Progenitor safe. This is only one ship and eventually the Kazov will make the connections, and come hunting. He knows that he should tell the others what -- who -- he has, and he will. Soon.
His quarters are not a fitting place for storage. He needs somewhere safe, partially hidden. He could ask the ship, but some things are better done outside of official knowledge.
He heads to the engineering bay. Who knows the ship better than the one who keeps it running?
Harper treats his request with annoyance, then dismissal. He expects nothing less. They've never really made a connection, and their allegiance is partly by duress. Nevertheless, Harper is not unfair by nature. He waits, patiently, and answers Harper's questions honestly. This is not a time for ambiguity or games.
Together, they return to his quarters, and move the casket to the place Harper describes. He watches as the human installs additional layers of security. They are clever and complex; not completely infallible, but nothing ever is. He is also certain that Harper has installed backdoors that will give him access, but that is also expected.
He expresses his thanks and ignores the surprise in Harper's voice, on his face. One more look at the secured area, and he leaves for the Command Deck. He has explanations to give.
End