Title: Rum Shot
Author: Olivia V.
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rhade reflects on what he is about to do.  Submission for the Andromerotica 
Festival.  
Spoilers: UTN.
Pairing: Gaheris Rhade/ Kylie Vance
Archive: Please email me at Oliviav@att.net and ask first.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed here belong to Gene Roddenberry and Tribune 
Entertainment.  They are not mine.  I'm just playing with them for a bit.  







Sometimes you need to do drastic things to protect those which are precious to you.  

Take the Commonwealth, for instance.  The Commonwealth honestly believed that by 
signing a Treaty of Antares with a bunch of butchers, animals, and savages that exists 
only to kill, it will keep them safe.  So they signed that treaty in order to save the 
Commonwealth.  

That was a mistake.  What they should have done was gone to war with the Magog.  
Instead they let them off for the murder of billions of Nietzscheans without so much as a 
slap on the wrist.  

And in two weeks, it will cost them everything.  It will only cost me my best friend, my 
assignment as First Officer on board the Andromeda, and possibly my life.  

But at least my pride, my people, will live on in safety.  

Just as soon as the Nietzscheans take control from the Vedrans and rid the Universe of the 
Magog.  

However, I still have two weeks to go, two weeks to play the faithful First Officer, best 
man to the Captain on his wedding day, and loyal servant to the Commonwealth.  

Dylan will never know what hit him the day we reach Hephaestus.  

However, I think as I stare at Commander Kylie Vance, maybe I can save one friend, at 
least.  All I need to do is convince her to follow my orders to run when the right time 
comes, and I'll know she has escaped.  

Kylie is young, unmodified, and female.  If she had been Nietzschean, I would have 
asked to become her mate months ago.  

She's human however, so I will not dilute my genes.  Even if I wanted to and had the 
nerve to ask Commander Vance if she would be willing to father one last child for me, I 
suspect her answer would most likely be no.  

I stare as she laughs at something one of the other lieutenants, Thompson, whispers in her 
ear.  She takes another shot of the rum that he has shoved in her direction and tilts it back, 
exposing her long neck as she drinks it in one gulp.  

I've counted that this is probably her fourth, maybe fifth drink of the evening.  And as she 
unbuttons the top two buttons of her rust colored uniform, it shows.  

Kylie looks at me and flushes all the way down to her cleavage, and I take a shot of the 
rum myself.  

My first wife has a neck similar to hers.  I have this attraction to long slender necks and 
dark hair.  Only Dylan, who wanted to know what sort of person I was hiring to strip at 
his bachelor party, knows this.  

Kylie leans heavily on Thompson, pressing one of her breasts against his left arm as she 
looks at the cards he's holding in his hand.  She's been trying to get his attentions for 
nearly thirty minutes, but Thompson is either too young or too naïve to see that.  So far 
he's made no positive signs that he even wants the attention.  

If Kylie is true to form, then in another ten minutes she will give up and look around for 
another person to take back to her room later.  Unless she's shot down and leaves sooner 
out of embarrassment.  

We won't be having another poker night for three weeks.  If I want to get her alone, now 
would be my chance.  I pour myself another drink and wait, keeping my eyes on her.  

Kylie takes another shot of rum, this one her sixth, and sticks her tongue down 
Thompson's ear.  He turns to her and smiles briefly before leaning over and whispering in 
her ear.  

This time, she's not smiling at what he's said to her.  But she leans over and kisses his 
cheek gently, stands up, and excuses herself from the card game.  

I believe I heard her say that she's got a headache.  Kylie has never gotten so much as a 
hangnail.  I put my shot glass down, wait a minute, and follow her off the Observation 
Deck.

I can see her swaying down the hallway as I catch up.  She's not crying, not yet.  

Kylie is a lot more sensitive about rejection than she lets on in public, although I do not 
know why she insists on such destructive behavior to feel loved.  Dylan and I may be the 
only two men who have ever seen her upset after a rejection.  Trust me, it's not a pretty 
sight.  It makes my heart ache even if I don't show it.  

I've seen it because I'm a Nietzschean, and therefore not approachable in her eyes.  
Oddly that also seems to make me someone she feels she can trust as well.  Dylan has 
seen it because she made a pass at him in a shuttle.  When he rejected her, she had 
nowhere to run off to cry afterwards.  

I grab her arm, steadying her.  "Commander Vance?  Kylie?"

Kylie looks at me with those big eyes of hers, trying to focus and recognize me.  Her eyes 
are welling up, which is not good at all.  "Ga… Gaheris?"

"Yes, Kylie.  Would you like me to accompany you to your quarters?"

"Why?  Lonely enough to want to fuck a human?"

The words sting.  I know she doesn't mean them, and will apologize if she remembers 
them in the morning, but they still sting.  I choose to ignore them instead and pull her 
down the nearest corridor.  "If you don't want to go to your quarters, we can go to mine."  

Kylie follows me without a word.  I'm actually a bit surprised.  She must be worse off 
than I thought.  By the time we've reached my quarters, she's leaning fully on me now 
with all her weight.  

I barely feel it as I key in the code and help her inside.  "Andromeda, privacy mode."

"Privacy mode engaged, authorization First Officer Gaheris Rhade," the ship's voice 
looms in announcement.  It's a signal that Kylie and I are as alone as we are going to get 
on a ship that monitors and carries on surveillance for over four thousand.  

I sit Kylie down on my couch and pull off her boots.  "Coffee?"

"I'd rather have beer," she mutters.  Kylie starts to undo the rest of the buttons on her 
uniform.  I watch her slip the jacket off, revealing a skin tone bra underneath.  

It's not Commonwealth issue, but it's not exactly unflattering either.  I pour Kylie a glass 
of water and sit down with the glass in my hand, trying not to stare at her breasts.  

She's human.  I can not touch her.  Any offspring from the resulting union would be 
inferior.  I give her the glass.  "Drink that.  I don't want you to become dehydrated."

Kylie holds the glass, but doesn't drink.  I try to focus on the beads of water forming on 
the glass instead.  

"Why do men always reject me, Gaheris?"

"Perhaps you are trying too hard.  Besides, Thompson is a boy.  You deserve better."

Kylie's eyes meet mine.  I notice that her hand is shaking as she holds the glass.  "No, I 
don't.  I'm not modified.  I wasn't even born on Tarn Vedra.  The only thing I have going 
for me is that I'm female."

If I were human, I'd be pulling her into a hug, kissing her hair, telling her… telling her 
what?  That I'm about to betray the Captain in two weeks?  Start a war?

I can't do that.  Instead, I stand up.  "What you are is a survivor.  Any man can see that.  
It's a desirable trait to have, believe me."

I go to my dresser to pull one of my shirts for her to sleep in for the night.  I'm not letting 
her go back to her room tonight.  I plan on taking the sofa.  She can have my bed.  

Besides, I can always talk to her in the morning.  

That's when I feel her arms from behind wrap around my waist.  Her hands are undoing 
the buttons of my uniform.  I can feel the heat of her body against my back, her head 
nestled between my shoulder blades.  

She has had me in this position before, several times.  It's never gotten past her 
unbuttoning my jacket.  I think part of why she trusts me to see her in this state is because 
I've never taken advantage of her.  

I want to turn around and take her.  But she's drunk.  And if she weren't drunk, then her 
being human would certainly be a reason for not doing so.  

To my surprise I turn around and hug her gently, not so close as to encourage her, but not 
so far away as to upset her again.  I manage to resist the urge to lean over and smell her 
hair.  

"Kylie, raise your arms."

Kylie does what she's told, and I pull the shirt down over her head and arms.  Kneeling 
down, I pull the shirt into place before I reach underneath it to undo her slacks.  

I can feel her fingers in my hair and just smell a trace of arousal as I pull her slacks down.  
She was wearing underwear, but the shirt covers her lower trunk completely.

I find I have to fight the urge to slide my hands back up under the shirt.  I stand and look 
at her face.  

Kylie's been crying.  I wipe a tear from her cheek.  "I can't stand to see you like this."

Her expression is unreadable.  "Yeah.  Well, I better go lie down…"

"I'll sleep on the couch."

Kylie walks over to the bedroom door.  She pauses just before the threshold and turns to 
look at me.  

"I could take the couch.  I mean… these are your quarters.  You shouldn't have to sleep 
out here."

"It's alright.  You get some sleep."

"I won't sleep, Gaheris.  I can't rest.  Could you come with me?  Just to talk…"

Kylie looks like a child in my oversized shirt and bare feet.  I nod slowly and follow her 
into my bedroom.  Stepping before her, I start to turn down the bed on one side so she can 
get in.  "I'm going to the bathroom."

When I get back out, she's already in bed.  I notice that the side of the bed I turned down 
isn't the side she's lying on.  

I sigh.  "Kylie…"

"Gaheris, stop.  I trust you.  You know that better than anybody.  Please, just lay down 
next to me, okay?"

I pause.  I can do this.  I can get into bed with Kylie Vance, calm her down and ask her to 
promise me she'll run for the nearest escape pod the next time 'something' happens.  She 
trusts me.

I can smell it in the air coming off her.  I can see it in her eyes.  I can save one friend as I 
unleash the chaos of the revolt on Dylan.  

I can keep myself from using her.  I turn out the lights, lie down on my back and stare at 
the ceiling.  I think about my wife and my impending betrayal as I close my eyes.  

I don't realize it is Kylie's lips pressing against mine gently until after I've begun to kiss 
back.  

And by then, it's a little too late.  Kylie has already moved on top of me, straddling my 
hips.  I can hear the rustle of fabric as the shirt I gave her to wear falls to the floor.  

As I pull her close to me, I realize that I can't tell her to run now without rising suspicion.  
I may as well kill her right now.  

Instead I kiss her roughly, and try to drown my guilt in her hair as I nuzzle it.  

What have I done?


-- End –