Author's note: The blame for this story lies entirely at my best friend Briahlen's feet. She made me watch Babylon 5! (long story). So B5ers will recognize the basis of this plot from the first season episode "Soul Hunter".
This takes place a year or so after season five. I don't care how Engels ends Andromeda--this is MY version.
Thanks: to the Andromeda cast and crew for inspiring me, and the friends who encourages me.
Dedication: This story is dedicated to the memory of the Grande Dame of Science Fiction herself--Andre Norton, who passed away on St. Patrick's Day. Without the influence of her books, I know without a doubt that I would not be in this place at this time, an avid science fiction/fantasy fan. Without her, I would not have been inspired to become a writer, even though I currently have only completed fanfiction. Farewell, Andre...you are and will be very missed by me.
Soul Reaper
by Cheile
He watched the balls of light dance in their enclosure. There were far more than he could count, but the more there were, the more beautiful it seemed.
His mission was not something many beings would want to ever consider doing for a day, let alone a lifetime. It was a lonely career. Yet he reveled in it. Only those like him had the unique talent required for it--to take care of the suffering and watch over what otherwise could be lost to the vast reaches of the universe.
"Yes, my children," he said as several of the little globes clustered near the point of the barrier where he stood. "You will have new brothers and sisters very soon..."
Chapter 1
Rescue
"Trust is for the foolish."
-- Marc Alexander Lafayette, CY 9981
It was situation normal aboard the Andromeda Ascendant.
For Seamus Harper, that meant being buried up to the tips of his spiky blond hair in repairs and other work. Currently he was about ten feet inside the main conduit on command deck, busily tweaking the long-range sensors, whose readings had been off for three days. They weren't off by much anymore--that issue had been fixed within the first ten hours--but he wanted them exact.
"Harper, are you ever coming out of there?"
"Not until I fix this..."
"You did fix it...a variance of .007 isn't that big of a deal." The voice belonged to Beka Valentine, resident pilot and first officer. She had moved from the pilot's chair to the entranceway of the conduit in order not to shout across the command deck. Shouting was better reserved for when the unruly engineer got out of line.
"Hello--genius at work here? Let me decide that, Boss."
"A little help here, anyone?"
"Don't look at me." Telemachus Rhade smirked when Beka rolled her eyes at him.
"Beka, you know better than anyone that he won't stop until he's satisfied that my sensors are the way they should be." This input came from a hologram of Andromeda that flickered into existence nearby.
"Besides, his dedication is admirable," added the ship's AI.
"I doubt even you care about a .007 variance, Rommie."
Both shrugged in answer.
"By now, I think it's safe to say she trusts Harper's judgment, Beka." Dylan Hunt, the Andromeda's captain, returned a faint smile to Beka's look of exasperation.
Beka's chance to continue the debate was lost when Rommie spoke up. "Dylan, a small ship has just come within my sensor range. It appears to be drifting."
"Great--just what we need: trouble in disguise." Harper's voice floated out from the conduit.
"Armed?" Dylan asked.
"Yes, but nothing sophisticated; merely enough to defend itself--if it were operational."
"Life signs?"
"One normal life sign, uninjured and who seems to have just activated a distress signal." Without being asked, Rommie opened the frequency, allowing all on command deck to hear it.
The voice was low, but with a troubled note to it. "This is Tarnescu Siri. My ship is damaged and I require assis--" A faint static-like sound was heard and then nothing.
"Rommie?"
"It appears I was incorrect in assuming he was uninjured..." The AI looked rather annoyed with herself at the error. "Grapplers ready to initiate."
As the rest of the crew got to the business of rescue, Harper resumed his own work. There was the possibility of some troublemaker showing up; therefore his lovely warship needed her every sensor exact. No .007 variances allowed. Period. End of subject.
"Harper!"
The bark was so sudden that Harper jerked upwards, banging his nose into the nanowelder in his hand. "Ow! What!" When his vision cleared, he could see Dylan glaring in at him. It was one of those High-Guard-thou-shalt-obey looks--the one that always meant he was busted.
"I expect you out here with everyone else?" Dylan's tone made it clear that refusing wasn't an option.
"I have work to finish in here...you guys don't need my help."
"Mr. Harper..."
"Okay, okay." Harper grumbled all the way out of the conduit. "But don't say I'm not dedicated to my work then."
"Never crossed my mind," Dylan promised. "Besides--" And here the captain pointed towards the view screen, where the Andromeda's bucking cables were towing the small cruiser towards one of her hangars. "That ship will need repairs while Trance is taking care of her pilot..." He left the temptation dangling.
Harper cast a glance over his shoulder at the conduit he'd left behind and then at the viewscreen as the smaller ship vanished from their view. His paranoid gut was swearing that this was the latest in a long line of trouble that always seemed to follow them like Magog after their next prey, but Dylan's carrot was far too difficult to resist. "Okay. You win, Boss. This time."
Dylan smiled. "Don't say I never let you have any fun."
"Yeah, yeah."
Down in med deck a half-hour later, Trance Gemini was puzzling over her patient as she healed his injuries. Most were minor, except for a mystery blow to the head. Luckily there was no fracture of the skull, just some bruising that the nanobots were quickly healing. Her patient had been the sole occupant of his little craft, so no one could have struck him, but something could have fallen upon him. That could be determined once he awoke and could explain what had happened to him. But what puzzled her more than the state of his main injury was that he looked very familiar yetcould not place him. She knew she had not met him, but his species--
Having completed her work, she studied him in hopes of jogging her memory. He was small--perhaps no more than four inches taller than Harper--but heavier in build. His skin tone was much like her own, but darker, as if tanned. Lying down, his head appeared slightly larger than his body, but Trance knew somehow that the difference would not be so noticeable when he was standing up. His head was bald, his face slightly flat, and there was what looked like a small yellow stone in the center of his forehead. She knew what he was...if only she could--
In that instant, her patient opened his eyes--which were a fathomless black--and met her gaze.
"Annaré-Ayane..."
Trance's indrawn breath was audible at the term she'd not heard in a very long time. "Tarnescu..."