In the meantime Q, not used to being ignored in this fashion, once again began his tirade of insults, threats, and otherwise had a bad temper meltdown. The five of them looked at him as he continued to insult them, their families, their friends, and anyone else he could think of. Unrelentingly, he hurled every insulting word or phrase he could think of (and there were many), including some of which he made up himself. But it was over. Ms. Red was tired of putting up with his antics, and at last Worf had arrived to do what he had promised. 
 

“Take him away,” replied the lady.  
 

“Gladly,” answered Worf as he pulled Q’s cage away and out of the big top. The lady snapped her fingers, and instantly the Magog clowns got up and followed obediently behind the cage in an orderly and quiet fashion. As the burly Klingon took Q to meet his destiny, he continued to hurl his best insults at them, his voice finally fading away in the distance. 
 

“I’m tired,” the lady stated with weariness. It had been a long day…or how many days had it been since this started? She was not sure…all she knew was that she needed it to be over, and she needed to be back in Rhade’s arms…alone. Besides, the catsuit she was wearing right now, while looking simply scrumptious, nevertheless was beginning to ride up her bum in a most irritating fashion. It was all she could do to keep her hands away from her backside to pick it out, and the first thing she wanted to do once this business was over was be out of it…with or without the red muslin dress in exchange. 
 

Meanwhile, Dylan was concerned about Worf. 
 

“Poor Worf…he has to listen to that annoying man all the way to wherever it is he’s taking him,” stated Hunt sympathetically. 
 

“Well, at least he doesn’t look like Worf’s uncle,” answered Beka, shuddering once more when she remembered the striking resemblance he had with her relative. In fact, the very mention of Beka’s Uncle Sid caught lady red’s attention, and she forgot all about her riding catsuit and tired feet for just a moment. Ms. Red turned to Beka and gave her a sly grin. 
 

“What makes you think he isn’t your uncle?”  
 

At first Beka was appalled at the notion. Then she thought and pondered it in her mind a bit, however, she began to experience an epiphany as to what the realization of this truth might bring. A proverbial lightbulb came on in Beka’s head, and a mischievous smile spread across her face in a most arrogant fashion. 
 

“Hey, if Q is really my uncle, then that means I’m immortal as well…a Q. Which also means I’m as good as a Paradine.” She shot a sideways glance at Captain Hunt, who looked back at her, wide eyed. His jaw then dropped as he realized she might be right, and what this could mean to all of them. 
 

“Doesn’t it?” Beka continued. 
 

“Yes, it would mean that,” stated the lady in red. 
 

“So…am I…his…niece? I mean, for real?” asked Beka hopefully. 
 

The lady thought a minute about whether or not she should tell them the truth. Upon consideration, however, Ms. Red came to the conclusion that, either way, her answer was sure to open up a can of worms she absolutely and positively did not want to deal with right now. After all, hadn’t they all been through enough already? Her feet hurt, the catsuit was continuing to ride up her bum, and the last thing she wanted to do was elevate an already self-absorbed Beka Valentine. 
 

“I can’t answer that question. It’s for another time,” answered the lady, wishing she had not made the statement about Uncle Sid in the first place. ‘There I go, putting my foot in my mouth again,’ Ms. Red thought regrettably. Despite her attempts to thwart this freight train of thought, however, the idea had opened up the floodgates. Rhade was the next to ponder the consequences. 
 

“So, if Q is really Beka’s Uncle Sid, then that means Beka is immortal and equal to a Paradine. And,” Rhade continued, “since she is the Matriarch of my people, then that means my DNA sprang from her, which sprang from Q, which makes me equal to a Paradine as well. Come to think of it, with my genetic engineering, one might say that I’m even superior to the both of you.”  
 

Rhade raised his eyebrow thoughtfully and then pondered a bit more. It was then that the realization of what he had just said hit Telemachus Rhade like the proverbial ton of bricks. Why hadn’t he seen it before? How had he let those two brainwash him into thinking he was anything less than their superior? All this time he had been bowing down to them – and all this time, it was they who were the inferior ones. And he had fell for it time and time again, hook, line, and sinker – until now. Once he left Terazed and joined Dylan’s crew, he had become his lackey…his ‘yes’ man. He had allowed himself to be chased down, beaten, and scorned by those beneath him. He had allowed Dylan to pump his mind with his idealistic philosophies of the Commonwealth and altogether Dylan greatness. Dylan Hunt – Captain of the Andromeda Ascendant, hero of the restored Commonwealth, defender of the right and good, Paradine, chosen one – all of these titles and attributes no longer held any sway with Telemachus Rhade. He remembered in particular that instance with the Patriarch, how Dylan had pretended to be one of the guards and punched him in the face. Sure, the good Captain said he was sorry and was only doing it to stay true to his part. He had believed it at the time, but no more - Rhade knew the truth. Dylan was really jealous of the fact that, for the first time, he had seen Rhade shirtless when those guards ripped his uniform off of him. And why had they done it? Because he was a Nietzschean. He was superior, and they were jealous. 
 

‘What has become of me?’ Rhade mused within himself. Because of Dylan, because of Beka, because of Seefra and the Patriarch and all those too jealous to accept the fact that he was better than they were in every way – it was because of them that he had gotten to this state. Because of them and others like them, Rhade had allowed his circumstances to drag him down to such a point that he didn’t see himself for who he really was. But the lady in red – his lady – had seen it all along. It was her that had brought this wonderful realization to fruition in his life, and at that instant the realization of that fact made him love her ever the more. Not only was she beautiful, spunky, feisty, and simply scrumptious - but smart as well. She knew a good quality piece of work when she saw it, and she had known all along that he was the best thing going on. That fact alone was enough to make him want to grab her right at that point in time and carry her off to some remote undisclosed location.  
 

The thought of not having to please anybody but himself – and his lady, which he was more than pleased to do – pleased Rhade, and it was then and there that the genetically superior Nietzschean decided that he really didn’t need the rest of them, after all. It was time for him to make his own destiny – with his lady at his side, of course. As Rhade pondered these pleasing thoughts, his countenance changed. Since joining Dylan’s crew, those around him were used to seeing Rhade display various different expressions – from the serious military-minded Nietzschean with little or no sense of humor, to the hopeless tortured hero with the surly bitter attitude and a flask in his pants. But hiding underneath his bearded scruffy exterior was another expression – one just a part of who he was as the others, but long hidden – buried under many layers of self-loathing, guilt, and hopelessness. This was a countenance and expression Rhade had displayed quite often in times past, but not since joining Dylan’s crew. Dylan remembered that look…it was the one he had displayed when they first met on Terazed – when Telemachus Rhade was still an Admiral. As Dylan watched Rhade’s countenance change into that old familiar arrogant expression, the Paradined Captain realized that things would never be the same again. 
 

‘Great…now I’ll never be able to live with him. Good going, lady whatever-your-name-is,’ thought Dylan bitterly. The lady, however, being much pleased with Rhade’s arrogant confidence, melted and swooned as he gazed upon her lovingly. Dylan and Beka, however, only stared at Telemachus Rhade with jealous annoyance. 
 

Beka Valentine was pondering some thoughts of her own on the entire matter at hand. As she stared at Rhade, speechless, it was then and there she realized what a boob she had been. After all, she had this Nietzschean by her side for two years, and not once did she give him the time of day. Now, because of her stupidity, she was going to have to settle for second best – an ungenetically enhanced Paradine. She tried to console herself in the fact that things weren’t really all that bad. After all, Telemachus Rhade might be superior, but who was going to inherit the Andromeda? Dylan Hunt might not have boneblades, but he was a Paradine…and that was definitely better than nothing. She looked at Dylan…she looked at his forcelance…she looked at the leather pants and long hair he still sported…and was satisfied.  
 

“You’re not going to cut your hair, are you Dylan?” Valentine asked as she playfully slapped Dylan’s bottom. 
 

Somewhat surprised by Beka’s forwardness, Captain Hunt jumped and turned around. 
 

“What? What was that?” Before he could say any more, Beka grabbed Dylan around the waist and gave him a long, passionate kiss. The lady in red and Rhade both looked at them like two pleased parents that have just sent their teenager on his first date. 
 

“Aww, isn’t that cute?” stated the lady in red. 
 

“Darling,” answered Rhade with a slight arrogant smirk, his hands clasped behind his back. He then looked at her with that same old familiar Admiralic expression, and raised one eyebrow. “Hey, you couldn’t tell them, but you can tell me…is it true, about Q really being Uncle Sid?” The lady looked back at him. 
 

“I’ll tell you everything. But first we need to be alone.” 
 

As the lady moved toward Rhade and wrapped her arms around his waist, he unclasped his hands from behind his back and pulled her to him, gently this time. As he held her, looking into her eyes, he then leaned toward her. As their lips almost met, there was a sudden hesitation as the lady in red lifted her left hand in the direction of Dylan and Beka. There was a white flash of light and they disappeared from sight, still kissing, ready to face their destiny together. Again he leaned toward her, but this time it was Rhade alone that hesitated.  
 

“What is it?” the lady asked, worried that he might have possibly changed his mind. 
 

Rhade, sensing that his lady was about to fret needlessly, gave her a playful pat on the bottom and a charming smile.  
 

“Um, have you forgotten something?” he asked gently, as he nodded his head in the direction of where he wanted her to focus her attention. 
 

As the two of them turned their heads, they noticed that they still had an audience. It was the Seefran spectators. The crowd had been so quiet in their fascination of the events around them that Ms. Red had forgotten they were there, gawking. The lady blushed in embarrassment and lifted her right hand – the one that had the whip in it. Rhade jumped, thinking she was once again going to snap it in the vicinity of his rear end – but she only flicked it in the direction of the audience. There was a bright flash of light as she zapped the spectators away and to their destiny – to torment Q for eternity, and to get some good entertainment in exchange.  
 

Both Rhade and Ms. Red looked around them once again; making sure no one else was forgotten. Now, at last, it was just the two of them. No more Beka, no more Harper, no more Doyle, Q, Worf, Seefra, and especially no more Dylan Hunt. Remembering one more thing, the lady in red then lifted her left hand. Instantly the environment around them disappeared into darkness. Now, in the pitched black that surrounded them, Rhade and Ms. Red continued to speak to one another lovingly. 
 

“Um, honey…can you…hey, that tickles!”  
 

“Ouch!” 
 

For a few more moments they carried on in this fashion, their voices the only thing penetrating the silence of the area around them, other than the occasional snap of the lady’s whip, which upon making contact with its destination let out a quick flash of static light. Then there was one more flash of bright light, as both Rhade and the lady in red disappeared from sight – this time embraced in a passionate kiss.