The lady in red, while completely enjoying the encounter she was having with Rhade, nevertheless decided it was time to get down to the business at hand. The sooner she had taken care of Q, the sooner she could get back to some scrumptious quality time with her new bonebladed boyfriend.

“Q, do you know why you’re here?” the lady in red asked her caged captive with a sudden serious air.

“Oh gee, let me guess…I’ve been a bad boy?” sneered Q from his cell.

“That’s putting it mildly,” quipped Rhade sarcastically while rolling his eyes. The woman continued, unabated by Q’s attempts at humor.

“Q, you are hereby summoned to be put on trial for your crimes against humanity – and other reasonable facsimiles thereof.”

Dylan gave a confused look. “Reasonable facsimiles thereof?”

The lady, realizing Paradine-Dylan-Half-god-Herc was once again interrupting something important, glanced back at him with more than slight annoyance. “Never mind, Dylan,” she answered brusquely. Dylan, while pouting like a small schoolboy, kept silent nonetheless.

Q was incensed. “On trial? ME! Why, that’s unheard of…it’s utterly, and absolutely preposterous! You can’t put ME on trial!”

“I can, and I am. One good turn deserves another,” stated the woman matter-of-factly. “And this time it’s your turn to answer for your crimes.”

The lady cracked her whip, which made Dylan jump and Rhade quiver with excitement. The lady, noticing Rhade’s reaction, winked at him flirtingly. Rhade smiled back at her in turn, which made the lady’s face flush crimson red. Their momentary preoccupation was preempted, however, when Q stamped his foot, once again raising a small cloud of dust, which made Dylan sneeze.

“Bless you, Mon Capitain,” replied Q, coming to the conclusion that just because he was in this predicament didn’t mean he had to lose his manners altogether. After a quick ‘thank you’ from the Paradine, however, Q continued in his quest for knowledge. “On whose authority??” he demanded.

“Mine,” replied the red clad woman calmly and snapped her whip again - softer this time, and this time incredibly close to Rhade’s behind. The leather-clad Nietzschean looked startled for a split second, but upon realizing she was merely teasing him and had no intention of doing him bodily harm, growled back at her playfully. Dylan only rolled his eyes.

“And who are you?” snarled Q.

After eyeing Rhade for a moment with a mischievous smile on her face, her smile then faded to something altogether sober and serious. The lady in red turned to face Q, walked to her captive’s cage and peered inside, her eyes gleaming with a mysterious air and dangerous power that made Q cringe and shudder uncontrollably. “I’m your worst nightmare. I have the power to create you, destroy you, make you, break you, and mold you into any form or fashion I choose. I can be your best friend, or your worst enemy. And right now, I’m your judge, jury, and executioner…with a little help from my friends, of course.” She then turned back to motion to Rhade and Dylan, who were gleaming with excitement at the thought of helping the lady turn the tables on their former tormentor. She then turned to face the audience of remaining Seefran spectators.

“I think it’s time to bring out the performing jury.”

“Performing jury? What’s that?” whispered Dylan to Rhade, being very cautious to not allow his interruption be overheard by the red-clad buxom circus master. Rhade, while just as unaware of the lady’s meaning as his former Captain, nonetheless was amused by the fact that, for the first time since Rhade had remembered knowing Dylan Hunt, the idealistic Paradine did not have all the answers. The scruffy handsome Nietzschean, playing on this weakness and seeing it as an opportunity to show his superiority, only looked back at Dylan with a smug grin. This in turn only served to perturb Dylan even further, as he glared back at the Nietzschean with utter disdain and bitter envy.

‘Just wait till I get Andromeda back to full power, into slipstream, out of this mess and back to my old life,’ thought Dylan. ‘The first thing I’m gonna do is drop Rhade’s tight leather britches off on the nearest Magog infested world I can find.’

“I heard that, Dylan,” answered the lady in response to Dylan’s musings.

“Heard what?” replied Dylan innocently, becoming very nervous.

“Your thoughts, of course,” answered the woman. “I like you, Dylan, but I must warn you…you will do no such thing with my sexy sweetie. Be a good boy, now.”

Rhade giggled. “Yes, be a good little boy, Captain Leatherpants,” stated the Nietzschean patronizingly.

Dylan glared back at Telemachus Rhade, trying to think of a befitting comeback, but decided instead to ignore the gloating Nietzschean in the tight leather trousers. Besides, provoking his bonebladed nemesis at this time was pointless. Not only was Dylan out of witty quips, but Rhade had gotten his prize, and now he was only doing what comes naturally to those of his genetic breeding. Dylan remembered all those times that Gaheris, Telemachus’ ancestor, had cheated in order to win at “Go”. He remembered Gaheris stating to Dylan that “it’s only cheating if you get caught”, and Dylan wondered if Rhade hadn’t done something to make this lady want him. Slip something in her drink, perhaps...or maybe it was those tight leather trousers. Either way, this game was over, and Dylan had lost. So instead of focusing on how he might get the lady in red for himself, instead he chose to focus on her ability to read his mind.

“You can read thoughts?” responded the captain in surprise.

”Why, of course. I have many skills,” replied the woman, suggesting to the onlookers that she may have been talking of more than just mind reading.

Rhade raised an eyebrow in surprise and beamed proudly at his new girlfriend. She certainly was not like any other woman he had ever encountered. Not only was she gorgeous and scrumptious, dangerous and intelligent – but also telepathic. What a find! But who was she? Rhade did not know, and since the red-clad lady still had not made him privy to that information, it was her utter and complete mystery that made the red-blooded male Nietzschean want her even more.

‘My, what offspring we could produce should she decide to choose me for a mate. There would be no stopping the Nietzschean race then,’ pondered Rhade. Then he remembered that she was probably reading his thoughts as he was thinking them. Then he remembered all the other thoughts he had had about her, and the fact that she had probably read those thoughts as well. In embarrassment and slight panic, Rhade tried to remember if he had fantasized anything about this woman that could incriminate him and his chances of scoring with the female find of a lifetime. It was then that the woman looked at him, deep into his eyes and beyond – into his soul – and Rhade realized that she was, even then, reading his thoughts.

 ‘Yes I am reading your thoughts right now, no, I’m not telling you who I am – at least not yet, and yes we could produce some beautiful children,’ replied the lady.

Rhade again raised his eyebrow in response. ‘Wow. Now you’re communicating with my mind without speaking. This is weird.’

‘It’s not so weird once you get used to it. And don’t worry, you will.’ The lady cast him a sly mischievous look that caused the blood to rise in his face, making him almost feel feverish – could Nietzscheans feel that sensation, that is.

Rhade raised his other eyebrow in extreme delight and interest. ‘Does this mean we have a future?’

The lady then raised her eyebrow. ‘I’d be crazy to say no, what considering all the daydreams you’ve had about me and what we two could do if we were – should I say – more ‘intimate’.’ With that, Rhade saw a slight blush on her face, which quickly changed into something else. What was it – compassion, love, understanding, perhaps? He didn’t know, but it was as if she could look into his very soul, beyond the tough façade and exterior, and see the inner man. One look from those gorgeous eyes of hers, and Rhade knew that this was a woman who could ease his hurts and pains, calm his fears and insecurities, and do it all without saying a word. Furthermore, this was extremely appealing to his ego, considering he did not want the others to know what was going on inside to make him act the way he did. The snarkiness, the surliness, the drinking – all were masks Rhade wore to protect himself from the outside universe that had caused him so much disappointment and misery. But he did not want the others to know that – not Trance, not Beka, not Harper, not Doyle/Rommie/Andromeda, and certainly not Dylan-Herc Hunt. Yet this lady – his lady - she could be trusted. He did not know why, but his gut told him that he could.

Nevertheless, Rhade wasn’t used to having someone delve into his mind so deeply. It was unnerving; yet at the same time it turned him in ways he had never before imagined. So what if she wasn’t a Nietzschean? This was so much better. To think, standing before him was a woman that could actually read a man’s mind – to know what he was thinking beneath all that testosterone and muscle. Should genetics harness this power, it would indeed be a breakthrough in male-female communications. Rhade shuddered with desire when he thought that, with her as his mate, his every need would be fulfilled without him having to spend half the night trying to coax, coerce, manipulate, and encourage. She was every man’s dream. If the others found out, they would surely envy him all the more. No wonder Q himself even wanted her. Yet right now, it seemed as if the self-proclaimed divinity had bitten off more than he could chew when he decided to mess with the beautiful buxom lady in red…and presently, she was his ultimate nightmare.

“Performing jury?” screamed Q from his cage, which startled Rhade back to the present reality. Truly this lady had many tricks up her sleeve. What was she going to come up with next? Surely she had a very unique way of dealing with things, and even now she did not disappoint them.

Without warning, it happened. The two trapeze artists arrived on the scene, running up their respective ladders to perform their act for the audience. Q squinted in amazement, and both Rhade and Dylan’s jaws dropped in surprise – it was Beka Valentine and Commander William T. Riker – and they were in leotards! Up, up, up, they climbed their ladders and, grabbed onto their swings.

‘This should be interesting,’ mused Dylan, especially when he considered there was no safety net at the bottom to catch her, should Riker miss.

Beka was the first to dive off her platform, and with a grace and agility not often seen, moved her body in rhythm with the swing. It was then Riker’s turn. He in turn dove off his platform, and the both of them proceeded in performing a trapeze act that caused the others to watch in awe. Every now and then Beka would let go of the swing completely and hang for a split second in thin air – each time eliciting a gasp from the audience – before Riker would catch her just in time, preventing her falling to certain death on the floor below them.

“They’re very talented, aren’t they?” replied the woman to the others.

“Indeed. I didn’t know Beka was so agile,” answered Dylan. As he watched the beautiful blonde swinging from her flying trapeze, Dylan realized he had been a fool. This woman had served with him for four years – and not once had he even asked her out on a date. She had complained about all her bad boyfriends – yet Dylan did not get the hint. She wanted him – of course she did. After all, he was Paradine. What woman wouldn’t jump at the chance to be with a Paradine – other than the lady in red, perhaps – then again, that lady was unique in herself. But Beka Valentine – despite all her run-ins with Nietzscheans – what she really wanted was to be Mrs. Hunt. After all, it made sense. As his wife, she would be heir to everything he owned – Andromeda (well, he didn’t own Andromeda, but who would know since those people had died long ago), his quarters, his forcelance – everything. And should he pass on (if indeed Paradines can do that) – it would stand to reason that she would also inherit his title as Captain. Yes, Beka wanted him all right – and if the truth be told, he wanted her just as much.

‘Boy, am I stupid,’ thought Captain Hunt with disappointment.

“Yes you are,” answered the lady, once again reading his thoughts. “You had this woman right under your nose and you almost let her slip away. But there’s still time. If you can take her from Riker, she will be yours.”

“I don’t know. Riker’s a big guy.”

“Yes, but he will have to leave soon. His ship, the Enterprise, is almost up and running – thanks to some help from Doyle and the others. I sent her back there with Data, and she and the others are helping get both of your ships running and out of the Seefran system. Harper, Trance, and Captain Picard are with them as well.”

“I was wondering what happened to Picard,” stated Q.

“Ah, teamwork at last!” exclaimed Dylan. “For the first time since Arkology and that business with the Magog, we finally have people working together as a team to get things accomplished. Right, Rhade?” The Captain beamed at the Nietzschean with that old familiar idealistic look that annoyed Telemachus so much.

“Whatever, Dylan,” answered Rhade with a smirk.

‘What a cheeseboy,’ thought Telemachus. ‘All Dylan and I have done these past few days is compete for the same woman. I would hardly call that teamwork. At least now he will leave mine alone, provided he gets himself up that ladder and has enough guts to claim Beka.’

The lady, once again reading Rhade’s mind, answered accordingly.

“So, the question is…what are you going to do about Beka, Dylan Hunt?”

Dylan thought, but only for a second. He had made up his mind.

“I’m going up there.”

“You won’t need to,” replied the lady in red. “Just stand underneath them.”

“What?”

“Trust me, Dylan. For once in your life, let someone else make the decisions. Okay?”

Dylan hesitated, but then proceeded to do what he was told. After all, the lady hadn’t let him down yet – at least not except for choosing Rhade over himself – and Dylan still wasn’t sure if Telemachus had cheated to make that happen. Walking over to underneath where Beka and Riker were performing their act, Dylan then stood there. After a couple of seconds, he shrugged.

“Okay, now what?”

“Wait and see. Patience, Dylan!” responded the lady.

The lady lifted her right hand. As Riker proceeded to make another daring catch of Beka Valentine, all of the sudden there was a flash of white light as the lady in red zapped him, and he disappeared into thin air – just as Beka had let go of her trapeze bar. There was a gasp from the audience as she hung suspended for a fraction of a second, and began to fall.