Work Text:
Title:Weeks, Seasons
Prompt: Dylan, before the fall of the Commonwealth
Spoilers: (if applicable)set mid-way through the run of the Original Commonwealth when both characters served in the Argosy Special Forces Division.
Summary: I remember you not fondly, but I knew you when....
Disclaimer: Andromeda belongs to Tribune Entertainment and Fireworks Productions as do the characters who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine. Note: this takes place during the time when the original Commonwealth was still very much active and features Dylan Hunt and Gaheris Rhade while they were working for the Argosy Division of the High Guard.
“Weeks, Seasons” by karrenia
They were to refer to each other as Mr. March and Mr. May for the duration of the mission, and never once to address each other by their given names or even by rank
.
If this parameter was vital for the success of the mission, he was perfectly willing to go along with those instructions and the others that were included in the flexible dossier.
A routine briefing session followed: a here followed: a period in which both men spent in silence; for Gaheris part because they did not give him scope for idle conversation.
As a Nietzschean, it would be a waste of time and breath to indulge in such things, and for the human officer because he was apprehensive about what he would leave behind.
Rhade believed that in order to be effective; one must separate such concerns to their proper place and time.
Rhade had only just met the young but promising Lieutenant Dylan Hunt and although he had not only proved capable of the theoretical but also in the field; and as a sign that the higher-ups recognized his abilities. The High Guard would not have assigned him to the Argosy division if he had not measured up.
However, Dylan Hunt believed, not without a certain amount of truth to it, that this was why he had to be chosen; as a testament to his own talents and accomplishments that they had selected him for this mission.
Rhade thought, ‘Merits further study, until then, I shall withhold further assessment.’
Gaheris Rhade leaned back in the padded leather seat of his seat/ Both men spent the time it took for the shuttle to break orbit and hook up with the waiting spaceship in relatively comfortable silence.
**
Dylan had been expecting more than a brief resistance to the success of their mission, but the response from the natives of Merta IV went beyond aggressive and into the realm of what he would consider overly so.
Dylan Hunt knew some risks they would be taking before accepting what his superiors had termed ‘a strict volunteer mission’ that there would be risks.
He had long ago adopted the philosophy that as long as he knew what the risks were and found them acceptable; then it would be his choice to place life and limb in danger.
For a non-aligned world whose native population had historically placed many factions from both a military and political segment at each other’s throats for years; Dylan could only think that they were awfully and perhaps suspiciously well-armed with high-tech laser and particle beam cannons.
Dylan did not have the time or the opportunity to further speculate on the incongruity, for they forced him to duck and dodge coruscating laser fire.
“Cease fire! We’re not here to further divide the concerned parties. We’re here to help!“
It was only then that Dylan Hunt realized that he had lost track of his partner. “Rhade! Where the hell did you go?"
Appearing out of the gloom, smoke, and laser fire with all the noise and economy of motion that would not have been out of place on a large mountain cat Dylan had once seen in Cetus VII’s zoological conservatory was his partner Rhade. Dylan could not refrain from giving a muttered shout but quickly recovered. Where the hell did you get to?”
“An additional unit was attempting a rear-guard sneak attack while their frontal unit kept us occupied. They have snow been dispatched,” the dark-haired Nietzschean replied.“
“Oh, that’s different. But, it would have been nice to have some warning,” Dylan replied.
“There was no time to do so, Rhade remarked. Watch your six,” he added and fired off another volley to his companion’s left.
“It does not seem that they wish to involve themselves in any sort of restitution talks to resolve the conflict. We should switch tactics accordingly.”
“Have you picked out the leader yet?” Dylan asked while he took advantage of the opportunity during a momentary lull to place his hands on his knees, lean over and take deep several deep breaths.
That task accomplished, he asked his partner, “Doesn’t it seem strange to you they have received such high-tech weaponry?”
“Agreed, either, intelligence on the Mertens and their internecine conflict shows that they do not have the technological capability to construct such weaponry.”
“Which means it was probably stolen?” remarked Dylan. “Agreed.” Rhade scanned the faces and positions of the Mertens, were arguing among themselves and trying to place the blame for several malfunctioning gun emplacements and particle beam cannons.
After a moment, he showed with several subtle pre-arranged hand signals and a nod at a particular individual.
Dylan offered his partner an off-center and conspiratorial grin, and then they circled around.
It was not exactly regulation, but by tacit agreement, the Mertens had left them hardly any other options; and if they had to drag the Mertens Prime Minister out kicking and screaming to get him to listen to them; then so be it.
**The man they met with was startled, and they had split up to cover more ground. They cornered and by tacit agreement Dylan Hunt opened negotiations.
He was a wiry, swallow-complexioned male who stood just under a meter tall, had hazel eyes, and a down-turned mouth that made him look as if he had a perpetually sour attitude.
He had gotten spittle on both of their black and silver uniforms by the time he calmed down long enough to understand they merely wanted to have a discussion with him.
“Commonwealth dogs!” he exclaimed.
Dylan grimaced. While he believed with every fiber of his being what the Commonwealth and by extension the High Guard stood for, he did not allow himself the luxury that such a behemoth was wholly good and altruistic. That being said, as insults went, he could take it on the chin if he had to.
“Anton Benjamin, I presume?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah, that’s me, replied the sour man. Who wants to know?”
“This is Mr. May and I’m Mr. March. As you’ve already positively identified us, representatives of the Commonwealth, we’d like to have a little talk with you.”
“You don’t say? Benjamin smirked. What I’d like to you is why the high and mighty Commonwealth would care about a Fringe world like Merta.” he sighed and seemed to sink into himself, his momentary defiance and belligerence went away.
“After all, if we go about killing each other in the name of ideologies and what not then why should they care?”
Dylan sighed and shifted his weight from one booted foot to another, set down his weapon. You seem like a level-headed fellow.
As you as showed in your little tirade just now, your people have been at each other throats, for what, decades now? It isn’t usually the policy of the Commonwealth to involve themselves in the internal affairs of other worlds.”
“Especially non-aligned ones,” added Rhade.
“Well, don’t you think it's high-time some type of resolution?”
“Through diplomatic channels? Benjamin inquired and laughed humorlessly,” Pardon me for saying this, but you don’t strike me as convincing diplomats.”
“Fair enough,” Dylan replied. “But you did open fire on us first.”
“Standard operating procedure. We didn’t ask for the High Guard. Anton Benjamin rubbed his hand through his matted and disheveled hair, and then in a silent voice. It would be nice to go a day, a week without a pitched fistfight or firefight erupting somewhere. It’s all I can do to keep up.”
“Then why don’t you declare a cease-fire?” asked Rhade.
Anton looked more than a little put-out at the suggestion so nonchalantly said. "It’s not that easy. Gee, why didn’t I think of that?”
“You would be open to negotiating a cease-fire?" Dylan asked.
“Yeah, but just don’t get your hopes up, and you’ve noted we’ve been at this for some time. There will be several factions that won’t want to give up their shiny new toys.”