Raa sat, engrossed by the text on the screen. I don’t believe it. I should, after all she is a Nietzschean but this plan is suicidal, if we let her do this, the Vedrans will destroy Gryphon Pride.

Raa shut down the final trace program. It was enough. Just enough to not only incriminate, but to convict Onnika. Sighing he leaned back and stared at the door, Another twenty minutes and I risk everything on the maturity of a ten year old. Please, dear Ancestors, let Caeilla care more about her people, about their survival, about their ascendancy, about them than she does her mother.

* * *

Beka smiled as she held out her hand to take Caeilla to the Andromeda. Caeilla stood in front of her. Her dark honey hair brushed back and in a tight French braid. She wore a dark red vest over a black shirt, both of which intimated the Commonwealth uniform. She wore dark red leather pants with black ankle boots. She didn’t wear many obvious weapons but Beka knew she was armed.

"Ready?"

"Yes, Beka, I am." Caeilla held out a small but fine boned hand, her nails were polished with a clear polish and her hand was slightly cool in Beka’s.

Without a smile, she turned her back to her mother who sat at the desk in the far corner.

"Caeilla?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Do listen to the Ancestor."

"Of course, Mother."

"Don’t worry, Onnika, we’ll take good care of her."

"She can take care of herself."

Beka stared at the cold woman and turned away, disgust on her face as she led Caeilla from the room she murmured, "Nietzscheans."

Caeilla looked up at her as they left the room. But I’m A Nietzschean.

* * *

Caeilla watched her people as they passed. Around each there seemed to be a shadow. Instead of heads held high, bright people, they all passed by silently. Eyes forward, head slightly tilted forward and down, they walked liked wraiths and she would have taken them for wraiths but they were solid. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the first time she had noticed this.

* * *

A year earlier

Caeilla walked into the laboratory with her assignment. Smiling she approached one of her favorite technicians. She was bent over a display. Caeilla waited to be noticed, her eyes casting around the lab; specs for ancient weapons lay on the desks. Being careful to be unnoticeable, Caeilla read several of the papers lying about. Mixed in with the specs were reports of the Mad Hasturi’s journal, old slipstream maps, incomplete plans for nova bombs, old locations for voltarium mines.

"Caei, what are you doing here?!"

"Sala, I need a bit of help on my umm assignment. Didn’t want to bother you."

"It’s ok, let me see it?" Sala stood up and lead Caeilla to the door, reading the assignment as they went.

* * *

Caeilla stared up at Beka. She has a purpose. She’s doing something. Something that involves me. It’s just too odd that Mother is having Sala research ancient commonwealth weapons. That a ship of the Commonwealth, which just happens to have my ancestor on board shows up. They refuse to stay anywhere but the ship; and according to the Valu, this Ma’ctor is some sort of prophet that is very rare but is on the same ship as my ancestor and a man who looks remarkably like my other ancestor, Rhade. This same ship happens to be inhabited by a Magog of the Way. By the last survivor of the Kodiak pride; which happens to have been the keepers of The Ancestor’s body. By Chrome who is and was the most hunted slave of the galaxy. By a female of an alien race no one has EVER heard of. By the Heir of Quantum, the single largest space transport agency. And a sentient AI.

‘Do listen to the Ancestor, Caeilla.’ Is that her way of hoping to get me out of what she’s doing? Or did she say that so no one would know she’s ready to move.

Caeilla sighed and looked up into shadowy ceiling, I hate politics.

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