"The war is not important until a life is laid on the line for it and
the result is not important until a life is remembered for it." -
Remenberance, Asver Mihi
"Vina is welcome to stay. I'd definitely need someone like her." Dylan said to Saran. The olive skinned Jaguar commandant merely looked at him.
"How strange. You seem to hold such reserve for us, and reluctance to 'fight our war' and yet you extend a welcome."
"Vina is quite unique." Dylan said, thinking of Harper and Trance. And even Tyr. He had stopped emitting a growling sound every time he passed her or saw her on the bridge.
"That she is. Generations of selection led us to her, one of the most formidable soldiers we have. She is perhaps one of the most important things we have against the Dragans. Without her, the Dragans would have been alerted of our espionage attempts long ago."
"I take it then that staying on the Andromeda isn't going to be in your best interest." He said.
"Maybe it would be. Maybe it wouldn't. But the current state of affairs does not permit me to make such a decision. Understand, Dylan-" She said it like it was an insult. He ignored it. "--That things are unstable at best. Vina may be out of our control, but she has just as much to lose as the rest of us. Her devotion to stopping the Dragans is vital to us."
"Well then she's welcome to visit anytime she wants." Hunt said, shrugging.
Saran cast a cautious smile towards him.
"I think you're keeping something from me, Captain." Saran said, wondering who among his crew had taken a liking to Vina. If it was Tyr Anasazi, she may not have to try very hard to fulfill Elsbeth's intentions of putting him into her family line. She smiled and he grew more nervous.
"Aren't we all hiding something?" He asked.
"Capturing the Nietzchean spirit nicely." She replied. They began walking down the corridor of the Andromeda, towards command. "Our reports indicate that the Dragans are in retreat. However, with sustained damages, they still outnumber us. We've still got a ways to go with new fleets."
"And the Andromeda is vital in this-how?" He asked, cutting through all the statistics and schematics. He was not interested in how decimated the Jaguars were, even if it did sound harsh and unfeeling, but he had spent too many hours and too much time fighting a battle he would rather not have his hands, or his crews' hands, in. And to be honest, Dylan felt a little tired.
"Your ship is obviously more powerful than anything the Dragan forces have." She said. "I don't think I need to say more about what we think your role in this war is. You're obligated to help."
"I'm obligated to lend assistance, yes, but not to lead your army into battle." He said, stopping. "I am not your reserve battleship ready for whenever you feel like killing some Dragans."
"I never said you were." She said, watching him. "But your help is vital in our survival. Without you, we have no army."
"Funny, you're the first Nietzchean who has said that. Your peers could learn something from that."
"This is no laughing matter."
Dylan entered command. "I know it isn't. Which is why I'm not laughing when I say that when the time comes, the commonwealth will make it's presence in your war, but until that time, whenever it may be, I am Dylan Hunt, human, this is the Andromeda Ascendant, warship, and we are not going to be at your beck and call." He lowered his voice. "Andromeda."
The andromeda hologram appeared opposite Dylan.
"Send an escort to see to it that Captain Saran gets to her ship and has a safe departure."
She glared at him one final time and walked away, taking a sharp turn towards the hangar.
"Vina, I swear it wasn't on purpose." Harper said, his hands up. His blue eyes looked at her warily.
"Really." She said. She stared down at the soggy mess below her feet and the tipped bucket to the side, still rolling a little, remnant of a practical joke pulled on the wrong person. Her dark hair hung around her face and water dripped from it.
"I think we should talk this out." He said.
"I think you should be quiet before your captain finds you in the airlock." She said, smiling internally as he saw him swallow. She had the same smile, devious and a bit evil. She liked the smile, she found it intimidated people. Harper was definately intimidated. Especially by the revelation that she, like Trance, concealed twin daggers in her boots. He opened his mouth to speak and just as quickly, closed it again.
"Wise." She said. "I guess I should change out of these clothes. And then I guess I should.. be going."
"Do you really have to?" He asked. "Beka might not like you that much right now, but she'll come around. Besides, I like you. And Trance likes you. Not in the same way, but it's two against one. Majority wins, you stay."
"Saran may be a coldhearted Nietzchean." Vina said. "But she's nonetheless my superior. And if she goes, then I think it would be best if I went. Who knows, I'll get out and come back sometime."
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Beneath that personable and may I say very attractive exterior, you're still a Nietzchean. I forgot, I'm not supposed to like them." He said, sneering.
"But I'm glad I changed your view of one." She said. She smiled and started to walk out. She stopped. "Tell your captain I said thanks. For reserving judgment."
He stared at her face and her brown eyes, watching him with amusement and caution. He knew she never let caution slip away, it was as part of her as Nietzchean genetics. Her vody moved like a cat on the prowl, she was always watching behind her back, and everywhere else. She was trained to always keep a close eye, always be on alert, and for that, she had gained a reputation throughout the galaxy for being covert and wily. He saw it in Tyr, how he moved about in situations, observing with his keen eyes, quietly calculating in his mind how he could silently manipulate events to fit his agenda, which seemed to always end up benefitting the Andromeda. His loyalty was often called into question, but Harper knew that the big guy wouldn't betray them. He hoped he was right. She did it too, her calculations, but at least he could tell that she never did it to the Andromeda. He knew she would never do it to harm Dylan, Tyr, Beka, or Trance. Or him. He knew it, but really, he felt small bits of guilt in his heart for doubting and only hoping he was right.
When she left, the doors swished closed behind her and Harper sighed. He had never met anyone like her before, no human, no Nietzchean. And for once, she didn't regard him as pathetic, useless, inferior, or any other name he had been called. And she was the only Nietzchean to defend the crew against the majority of Nietzchean command who were convinced that the only way to win against Dragans would be to bomb their supply routes, which happened to be at the slave trades, where thousands of humans were. She had found something worthy in the human race and it didn't involve weapons or ships. It had nothing to do with anything that could obviously benefit the Jaguars. And yet she saw it worthy.
And Seamus Harper had found a new friend. And she was gone now, and it was likely he would never see her again. The lines between humans and Nietzcheans were large and their treachery wide. In recognizing that humans were not quite as inferior as every other Nietzchean repelled them to be, she had been perhaps, the smartest of them all. And she now had more than one enemy. It was her that argued that genetically, perhaps inferiority could be stated, but examples like Dylan Hunt show that humans were not inferior by much. And that had made all the difference.
7 months later
"Rommie, missiles away, aim for the armory." Dylan commanded. Immediately he saw several projectiles leave the Andromeda. Soon they found their target and the numbers started to roll in.
"Three major armories have been destroyed, approximately 6% of their fleet is completely immobilized." Rommie announced, her voice calm and neutral. "We have an incoming transmission from Captain Revador."
"On screen."
"Captain, good work." The uniformed Nietzchean said, smiling. Behind the smile, Dylan knew, there was motive. And the motives of the Nietzcheans could either be very obvious, or very subtle. Revador, however, was very capable of both, whichever seemed to suit his purpose at the moment. In fact.. he reminded Dylan of Tyr.
"We'll be on our way now." Dylan said, if not rudely, a bit short. He didn't want to fight their battle anyway, but his own commonwealth had drawn him into it. Irony had it's strange ways of working. "Thank you for your assistance, Captain."
The screen reverted to a view of space and the crew began to dissipate, off to do their various items of personal business.
"Beka, you have the bridge." Dylan said. The doors opened and he entered the corridor.
"Incoming transmission." Rommie said. She paused. "It's for you, Harper."
"I'll get it in engineering." Harper said. His stomach tightened and he wondered what it could be. The last time he received a transmission especially addressed to him, it had resulted in the revolution that killed hundreds. He wasn't ready to lead the pack into slaughter again.
When he entered, he pushed a button and the message came up as a hologram. What he saw made his throat dry and his stomach turn.
"Hey cousin." The hologram said. Brendan grinned. There was a small scar above his eye. Harper had never seen it before. "I don't know if you're going to get this, but I wanted to update you on our situation. We're-we're slowly making it." His grin faded. "The Dragans got reinforcements yesterday, twice the size of the fighters we have. They started pushing us toward the border today, trying to corner us into their forces behind us in New York. But we're pushing back." His grin broke out again. "Don't worry about me."
But he did worry. He worried all the time now, since seeing his cousin in Boston. He had left with a heavy heart, knowing Brendan was doing the right thing, but worrying that he would leave and never see him again. Thinking that he would die not on his deathbed with friends and family by, but on a dirty pavement or cell with a few Nietzcheans holding smoking guns.
He did worry. And there was only one thing he could do about his worrying.
"You seem enthusiastic to go." Dylan said. Harper was sitting in Dylan's quarters. He wondered how come he didn't have the same comfortable chairs in his room.
"They need help. We can give it to them." He said simply. "I wouldn't call it enthusiasm. You know I like to keep myself out of the line of fire as much as possible."
"I see your point. But the dilemma we have right now is that they are finally getting the legs to fight back. And if the Andromeda goes in and destroys the Dragan forces for them, I don't think it would be beneficial towards them. If they learned to depend on themselves-"
"I know what you mean. If we go in on a white horse and blow the Dragans to smithereens, then they'll think that they're saved and we can just raid every slave planet for them. I get your point." Harper said. "But they really need help. I saw Brendan, it was just a message, but he looked terrible. He's got scars I've never seen before, his voice-"
"If you go, you can take Rommie with you. I'm sure they'll like seeing you two again. I'd send Trance, but things with the Dragans are still heated. Until I'm sure that we're in the safe zone, I need her here."
Harper nodded and stood up.
"Thanks, boss."
"You're very welcome." Dylan said.
"I can't believe we're here again." Rommie said as they entered a dark passage, one like the one they had some time before. She almost expected to see the two young girls again. She reinforced her grip on the large metal case she was carrying. Harper carried another. Both were filled with the things they thought they would need, hopefully enough. She frowned as a rat scuttled across her boot. "Everything looks alike."
"Scared of rats?" Harper asked, not without amusement.
"I was never programmed to be." She said. "However, I see why they're so disgusting."
"Yeah, tell that to the homeless who call them food."
"That definitely explains why mortality rates are so high." She said. "Rats carry disease and if the sick aren't sick enough, they eat rats."
It had recently rained in Boston and the smell of water and grime on the streets infiltrated Rommie's nostrils. She frowned as her circuits automatically calculated the ingredients in the filth.
They stepped beneath a fallen pillar of concrete. A little bit crumbled at their touch.
"Do you even know where he is?" She asked him, looking around.
"Not exactly, but I think I generally do know. Boston is big, but there are only a few places where you won't find Nietzcheans." Harper said, looking into a dark crevice. "I wouldn't start shouting his name, but Seamus Harper doesn't not know how to find someone."
"Who speaks the name of Seamus Harper?" A voice called out. Rommie looked around.
"He's behind us to the left." She whispered.
"Seamus Harper speaks of Seamus Harper." Harper said, turning around to face where his would be interrogator was. "Who wants to know?"
"That's impossible. Seamus Harper died in a rebellion in Tokyo."
The voice was still hidden, though they knew exactly where he was.
"Well last time I checked, I was never in Tokyo and I'm definitely not dead." He said. "Do you know where Brendan Lahey is?"
"Who wants to know?" The voice asked again. "And don't tell me Seamus Harper."
"Where the hell are you, man?" Harper asked, tired of the back and forth banter.
Finally a body stepped out. He had rusty brown hair and his eyes were bright, a sign of sleep deprivation. He held a force lance in his hand and it was aimed at Harper.
"What do you want with Brendan Lahey?" He asked.
"He's a friend." He said. If they wouldn't believe he was Brendan's cousin, then he could pass as a friend, right? "Mind if you point that somewhere else?"
He moved his lance to point at Rommie. Not a major improvement, but it showed he was willing to listen.
"Where's Brendan?" He asked. "I'm on your side, trust me."
"And where did you come from?" The other man asked, looking at them both. "Not from anywhere around here. New clothes, new weapons."
"You're good at seeing things on the spot." Rommie commented. "The resistance needs someone like you."
Great, if you can't talk them down, you can flatter them to death.
"I'd hate to have to do something that would require them to find a replacement." She said coldly.
For a brief moment, Harper sensed fear in the other man. Rommie was not one to usually make threats unless threatened first, but he had noted that the force lance pointed at her had a charge that could render her very impaired.
"Stand down, Darin." Harper's eyes lit up as he heard Brendan. He glanced at Rommie and he could tell she recognized his voice too.
Darin nodded and stepped back. He lowered his force lance, but his eyes still said 'i'm watching'.
Brendan walked into the alley, his face partially hidden by shadow.
"Cousin."
"Hey man." Harper said. He saw Brendan's expression. "What's wrong?"
"We got word that you were dead." He said quietly.
"Got pretty close." He said, thinking of a particular battle with the Dragans. "But I'm not in my grave."
"I see that. And it's good to see you too, Rommie." Brendan said, looking at her. "Come on, we've got to do some celebrating. The great Seamus Harper isn't dead."
"Great?" Harper asked uncertainly.
Brendan nodded. "You've become somewhat of a local legend in Boston. Your first speech that riled the revolution up."
"Really?" Rommie asked. "Harper's a legend?"
"Yes, and the people will be very glad to see you alive and well." Brendan said. He looked behind him. "Darin here is one of the best security people we have."
"I've heard stories about you. About how your starship destroyed hundreds of Nietzchean fighters." He said, not without a sense of awe.
"Well it's not really my ship, more like Rom-"
Rommie quickly elbowed him in the side. "Well we're a crew."
"Come on, Seamus." Brendan said. "We've established a lot since you left. We have headquarters now, we've got friends all over the country and we've got communications with them. We can send messages, receive them. Everyone is updated."
"That's great." Harper said. They were walking in a dark tunnel-like passage. He could barely see in front of him. With the infared and night vision sensor arrays he installed though, he was sure Rommie could see fine.
Suddenly there was a rustle. Brendan raised a hand and they stopped.
"There's four Nietzcheans in front of us. They can't see us as long as we don't move." Rommie said.
"How do you know that?" Brendan asked.
"One of them is leaving. The other three are looking around. I think they're trying to find something." She zoomed into one particular Nietzchean who was poking in a garbage can.
There was a mumble between the two and they departed.
"We're clear." Rommie said after a moment of silence. They emerged from hiding. Brendan looked at Rommie differently now, but he said nothing.
They took great pains to return to the resistance headquarters. The main purpose was to weave through hard to find places in order to discourage the enemy and make it harder to detect. And though Harper knew that Rommie could find her way through the entire city in the dark without any guidance, he also knew that no one knew who she was and that any indication of her android powers could reveal their secret.
"And here we are." Brendan said. "Listen up, people!"
They entered a deep underground chamber full of people. Their heads all snapped towards Brendan and their attention was on him.
"Seems we were mislead by wrong communication. My cousin, your ally, Seamus Harper, lives, and has come back to help us."
There was silence at first and Harper was afraid that they would boo and hiss. He saw all eyes on him. Brendan looked at him. "Say something."
"What?"
"They want to hear the great speechmaker." Brendan said, grinning.
"Me?" He squeaked. "I'm no speechmaker. That was a one time gig."
"Just say something." He pushed Harper up.
"Uh...hi." He shrugged. "Uh, as you can see, I'm not dead. I'm very much alive and as I can see, so are you. I know you've had hard times. You've lost friends and family and sometimes you--you want to just give up. But as much as that seems like a good idea, I remember that I had those chances too."
He looked at Rommie who stepped forward and stood next to him. "I had a lot of chances to give up. Hell, last time I was here, I wanted to give up. But the people around me--" He glanced at Brendan, who smiled. "They never let me give up. And I remember that if I had given up then I would be letting them win because they want us to give up. So if you don't fight and don't demand your freedom, then at least don't give up, because then they'll all win. And depend on each other cause they're your family now."
He put an arm around Rommie and another around Brendan.
"Hear him, people." Brendan said. "He's right. The damn Nietzcheans want us to give up and we won't!"
There was a cheer and Harper sensed a surge of patriotism. Patriotism for a country that wasn't.
"Harper, most of the sensors I placed in the city last time are still there. I could place more though." Rommie said.
He nodded. "That might be a good idea."
As Rommie went to Brendan and asked about the ideal locations for arrays, Harper stood in the midst of the rebellion. He could feel the energy buzzing about, people who were war-torn but ready to fight. It felt good.
"Vina is welcome to stay. I'd definitely need someone like her." Dylan said to Saran. The olive skinned Jaguar commandant merely looked at him.
"How strange. You seem to hold such reserve for us, and reluctance to 'fight our war' and yet you extend a welcome."
"Vina is quite unique." Dylan said, thinking of Harper and Trance. And even Tyr. He had stopped emitting a growling sound every time he passed her or saw her on the bridge.
"That she is. Generations of selection led us to her, one of the most formidable soldiers we have. She is perhaps one of the most important things we have against the Dragans. Without her, the Dragans would have been alerted of our espionage attempts long ago."
"I take it then that staying on the Andromeda isn't going to be in your best interest." He said.
"Maybe it would be. Maybe it wouldn't. But the current state of affairs does not permit me to make such a decision. Understand, Dylan-" She said it like it was an insult. He ignored it. "--That things are unstable at best. Vina may be out of our control, but she has just as much to lose as the rest of us. Her devotion to stopping the Dragans is vital to us."
"Well then she's welcome to visit anytime she wants." Hunt said, shrugging.
Saran cast a cautious smile towards him.
"I think you're keeping something from me, Captain." Saran said, wondering who among his crew had taken a liking to Vina. If it was Tyr Anasazi, she may not have to try very hard to fulfill Elsbeth's intentions of putting him into her family line. She smiled and he grew more nervous.
"Aren't we all hiding something?" He asked.
"Capturing the Nietzchean spirit nicely." She replied. They began walking down the corridor of the Andromeda, towards command. "Our reports indicate that the Dragans are in retreat. However, with sustained damages, they still outnumber us. We've still got a ways to go with new fleets."
"And the Andromeda is vital in this-how?" He asked, cutting through all the statistics and schematics. He was not interested in how decimated the Jaguars were, even if it did sound harsh and unfeeling, but he had spent too many hours and too much time fighting a battle he would rather not have his hands, or his crews' hands, in. And to be honest, Dylan felt a little tired.
"Your ship is obviously more powerful than anything the Dragan forces have." She said. "I don't think I need to say more about what we think your role in this war is. You're obligated to help."
"I'm obligated to lend assistance, yes, but not to lead your army into battle." He said, stopping. "I am not your reserve battleship ready for whenever you feel like killing some Dragans."
"I never said you were." She said, watching him. "But your help is vital in our survival. Without you, we have no army."
"Funny, you're the first Nietzchean who has said that. Your peers could learn something from that."
"This is no laughing matter."
Dylan entered command. "I know it isn't. Which is why I'm not laughing when I say that when the time comes, the commonwealth will make it's presence in your war, but until that time, whenever it may be, I am Dylan Hunt, human, this is the Andromeda Ascendant, warship, and we are not going to be at your beck and call." He lowered his voice. "Andromeda."
The andromeda hologram appeared opposite Dylan.
"Send an escort to see to it that Captain Saran gets to her ship and has a safe departure."
She glared at him one final time and walked away, taking a sharp turn towards the hangar.
"Vina, I swear it wasn't on purpose." Harper said, his hands up. His blue eyes looked at her warily.
"Really." She said. She stared down at the soggy mess below her feet and the tipped bucket to the side, still rolling a little, remnant of a practical joke pulled on the wrong person. Her dark hair hung around her face and water dripped from it.
"I think we should talk this out." He said.
"I think you should be quiet before your captain finds you in the airlock." She said, smiling internally as he saw him swallow. She had the same smile, devious and a bit evil. She liked the smile, she found it intimidated people. Harper was definately intimidated. Especially by the revelation that she, like Trance, concealed twin daggers in her boots. He opened his mouth to speak and just as quickly, closed it again.
"Wise." She said. "I guess I should change out of these clothes. And then I guess I should.. be going."
"Do you really have to?" He asked. "Beka might not like you that much right now, but she'll come around. Besides, I like you. And Trance likes you. Not in the same way, but it's two against one. Majority wins, you stay."
"Saran may be a coldhearted Nietzchean." Vina said. "But she's nonetheless my superior. And if she goes, then I think it would be best if I went. Who knows, I'll get out and come back sometime."
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Beneath that personable and may I say very attractive exterior, you're still a Nietzchean. I forgot, I'm not supposed to like them." He said, sneering.
"But I'm glad I changed your view of one." She said. She smiled and started to walk out. She stopped. "Tell your captain I said thanks. For reserving judgment."
He stared at her face and her brown eyes, watching him with amusement and caution. He knew she never let caution slip away, it was as part of her as Nietzchean genetics. Her vody moved like a cat on the prowl, she was always watching behind her back, and everywhere else. She was trained to always keep a close eye, always be on alert, and for that, she had gained a reputation throughout the galaxy for being covert and wily. He saw it in Tyr, how he moved about in situations, observing with his keen eyes, quietly calculating in his mind how he could silently manipulate events to fit his agenda, which seemed to always end up benefitting the Andromeda. His loyalty was often called into question, but Harper knew that the big guy wouldn't betray them. He hoped he was right. She did it too, her calculations, but at least he could tell that she never did it to the Andromeda. He knew she would never do it to harm Dylan, Tyr, Beka, or Trance. Or him. He knew it, but really, he felt small bits of guilt in his heart for doubting and only hoping he was right.
When she left, the doors swished closed behind her and Harper sighed. He had never met anyone like her before, no human, no Nietzchean. And for once, she didn't regard him as pathetic, useless, inferior, or any other name he had been called. And she was the only Nietzchean to defend the crew against the majority of Nietzchean command who were convinced that the only way to win against Dragans would be to bomb their supply routes, which happened to be at the slave trades, where thousands of humans were. She had found something worthy in the human race and it didn't involve weapons or ships. It had nothing to do with anything that could obviously benefit the Jaguars. And yet she saw it worthy.
And Seamus Harper had found a new friend. And she was gone now, and it was likely he would never see her again. The lines between humans and Nietzcheans were large and their treachery wide. In recognizing that humans were not quite as inferior as every other Nietzchean repelled them to be, she had been perhaps, the smartest of them all. And she now had more than one enemy. It was her that argued that genetically, perhaps inferiority could be stated, but examples like Dylan Hunt show that humans were not inferior by much. And that had made all the difference.
7 months later
"Rommie, missiles away, aim for the armory." Dylan commanded. Immediately he saw several projectiles leave the Andromeda. Soon they found their target and the numbers started to roll in.
"Three major armories have been destroyed, approximately 6% of their fleet is completely immobilized." Rommie announced, her voice calm and neutral. "We have an incoming transmission from Captain Revador."
"On screen."
"Captain, good work." The uniformed Nietzchean said, smiling. Behind the smile, Dylan knew, there was motive. And the motives of the Nietzcheans could either be very obvious, or very subtle. Revador, however, was very capable of both, whichever seemed to suit his purpose at the moment. In fact.. he reminded Dylan of Tyr.
"We'll be on our way now." Dylan said, if not rudely, a bit short. He didn't want to fight their battle anyway, but his own commonwealth had drawn him into it. Irony had it's strange ways of working. "Thank you for your assistance, Captain."
The screen reverted to a view of space and the crew began to dissipate, off to do their various items of personal business.
"Beka, you have the bridge." Dylan said. The doors opened and he entered the corridor.
"Incoming transmission." Rommie said. She paused. "It's for you, Harper."
"I'll get it in engineering." Harper said. His stomach tightened and he wondered what it could be. The last time he received a transmission especially addressed to him, it had resulted in the revolution that killed hundreds. He wasn't ready to lead the pack into slaughter again.
When he entered, he pushed a button and the message came up as a hologram. What he saw made his throat dry and his stomach turn.
"Hey cousin." The hologram said. Brendan grinned. There was a small scar above his eye. Harper had never seen it before. "I don't know if you're going to get this, but I wanted to update you on our situation. We're-we're slowly making it." His grin faded. "The Dragans got reinforcements yesterday, twice the size of the fighters we have. They started pushing us toward the border today, trying to corner us into their forces behind us in New York. But we're pushing back." His grin broke out again. "Don't worry about me."
But he did worry. He worried all the time now, since seeing his cousin in Boston. He had left with a heavy heart, knowing Brendan was doing the right thing, but worrying that he would leave and never see him again. Thinking that he would die not on his deathbed with friends and family by, but on a dirty pavement or cell with a few Nietzcheans holding smoking guns.
He did worry. And there was only one thing he could do about his worrying.
"You seem enthusiastic to go." Dylan said. Harper was sitting in Dylan's quarters. He wondered how come he didn't have the same comfortable chairs in his room.
"They need help. We can give it to them." He said simply. "I wouldn't call it enthusiasm. You know I like to keep myself out of the line of fire as much as possible."
"I see your point. But the dilemma we have right now is that they are finally getting the legs to fight back. And if the Andromeda goes in and destroys the Dragan forces for them, I don't think it would be beneficial towards them. If they learned to depend on themselves-"
"I know what you mean. If we go in on a white horse and blow the Dragans to smithereens, then they'll think that they're saved and we can just raid every slave planet for them. I get your point." Harper said. "But they really need help. I saw Brendan, it was just a message, but he looked terrible. He's got scars I've never seen before, his voice-"
"If you go, you can take Rommie with you. I'm sure they'll like seeing you two again. I'd send Trance, but things with the Dragans are still heated. Until I'm sure that we're in the safe zone, I need her here."
Harper nodded and stood up.
"Thanks, boss."
"You're very welcome." Dylan said.
"I can't believe we're here again." Rommie said as they entered a dark passage, one like the one they had some time before. She almost expected to see the two young girls again. She reinforced her grip on the large metal case she was carrying. Harper carried another. Both were filled with the things they thought they would need, hopefully enough. She frowned as a rat scuttled across her boot. "Everything looks alike."
"Scared of rats?" Harper asked, not without amusement.
"I was never programmed to be." She said. "However, I see why they're so disgusting."
"Yeah, tell that to the homeless who call them food."
"That definitely explains why mortality rates are so high." She said. "Rats carry disease and if the sick aren't sick enough, they eat rats."
It had recently rained in Boston and the smell of water and grime on the streets infiltrated Rommie's nostrils. She frowned as her circuits automatically calculated the ingredients in the filth.
They stepped beneath a fallen pillar of concrete. A little bit crumbled at their touch.
"Do you even know where he is?" She asked him, looking around.
"Not exactly, but I think I generally do know. Boston is big, but there are only a few places where you won't find Nietzcheans." Harper said, looking into a dark crevice. "I wouldn't start shouting his name, but Seamus Harper doesn't not know how to find someone."
"Who speaks the name of Seamus Harper?" A voice called out. Rommie looked around.
"He's behind us to the left." She whispered.
"Seamus Harper speaks of Seamus Harper." Harper said, turning around to face where his would be interrogator was. "Who wants to know?"
"That's impossible. Seamus Harper died in a rebellion in Tokyo."
The voice was still hidden, though they knew exactly where he was.
"Well last time I checked, I was never in Tokyo and I'm definitely not dead." He said. "Do you know where Brendan Lahey is?"
"Who wants to know?" The voice asked again. "And don't tell me Seamus Harper."
"Where the hell are you, man?" Harper asked, tired of the back and forth banter.
Finally a body stepped out. He had rusty brown hair and his eyes were bright, a sign of sleep deprivation. He held a force lance in his hand and it was aimed at Harper.
"What do you want with Brendan Lahey?" He asked.
"He's a friend." He said. If they wouldn't believe he was Brendan's cousin, then he could pass as a friend, right? "Mind if you point that somewhere else?"
He moved his lance to point at Rommie. Not a major improvement, but it showed he was willing to listen.
"Where's Brendan?" He asked. "I'm on your side, trust me."
"And where did you come from?" The other man asked, looking at them both. "Not from anywhere around here. New clothes, new weapons."
"You're good at seeing things on the spot." Rommie commented. "The resistance needs someone like you."
Great, if you can't talk them down, you can flatter them to death.
"I'd hate to have to do something that would require them to find a replacement." She said coldly.
For a brief moment, Harper sensed fear in the other man. Rommie was not one to usually make threats unless threatened first, but he had noted that the force lance pointed at her had a charge that could render her very impaired.
"Stand down, Darin." Harper's eyes lit up as he heard Brendan. He glanced at Rommie and he could tell she recognized his voice too.
Darin nodded and stepped back. He lowered his force lance, but his eyes still said 'i'm watching'.
Brendan walked into the alley, his face partially hidden by shadow.
"Cousin."
"Hey man." Harper said. He saw Brendan's expression. "What's wrong?"
"We got word that you were dead." He said quietly.
"Got pretty close." He said, thinking of a particular battle with the Dragans. "But I'm not in my grave."
"I see that. And it's good to see you too, Rommie." Brendan said, looking at her. "Come on, we've got to do some celebrating. The great Seamus Harper isn't dead."
"Great?" Harper asked uncertainly.
Brendan nodded. "You've become somewhat of a local legend in Boston. Your first speech that riled the revolution up."
"Really?" Rommie asked. "Harper's a legend?"
"Yes, and the people will be very glad to see you alive and well." Brendan said. He looked behind him. "Darin here is one of the best security people we have."
"I've heard stories about you. About how your starship destroyed hundreds of Nietzchean fighters." He said, not without a sense of awe.
"Well it's not really my ship, more like Rom-"
Rommie quickly elbowed him in the side. "Well we're a crew."
"Come on, Seamus." Brendan said. "We've established a lot since you left. We have headquarters now, we've got friends all over the country and we've got communications with them. We can send messages, receive them. Everyone is updated."
"That's great." Harper said. They were walking in a dark tunnel-like passage. He could barely see in front of him. With the infared and night vision sensor arrays he installed though, he was sure Rommie could see fine.
Suddenly there was a rustle. Brendan raised a hand and they stopped.
"There's four Nietzcheans in front of us. They can't see us as long as we don't move." Rommie said.
"How do you know that?" Brendan asked.
"One of them is leaving. The other three are looking around. I think they're trying to find something." She zoomed into one particular Nietzchean who was poking in a garbage can.
There was a mumble between the two and they departed.
"We're clear." Rommie said after a moment of silence. They emerged from hiding. Brendan looked at Rommie differently now, but he said nothing.
They took great pains to return to the resistance headquarters. The main purpose was to weave through hard to find places in order to discourage the enemy and make it harder to detect. And though Harper knew that Rommie could find her way through the entire city in the dark without any guidance, he also knew that no one knew who she was and that any indication of her android powers could reveal their secret.
"And here we are." Brendan said. "Listen up, people!"
They entered a deep underground chamber full of people. Their heads all snapped towards Brendan and their attention was on him.
"Seems we were mislead by wrong communication. My cousin, your ally, Seamus Harper, lives, and has come back to help us."
There was silence at first and Harper was afraid that they would boo and hiss. He saw all eyes on him. Brendan looked at him. "Say something."
"What?"
"They want to hear the great speechmaker." Brendan said, grinning.
"Me?" He squeaked. "I'm no speechmaker. That was a one time gig."
"Just say something." He pushed Harper up.
"Uh...hi." He shrugged. "Uh, as you can see, I'm not dead. I'm very much alive and as I can see, so are you. I know you've had hard times. You've lost friends and family and sometimes you--you want to just give up. But as much as that seems like a good idea, I remember that I had those chances too."
He looked at Rommie who stepped forward and stood next to him. "I had a lot of chances to give up. Hell, last time I was here, I wanted to give up. But the people around me--" He glanced at Brendan, who smiled. "They never let me give up. And I remember that if I had given up then I would be letting them win because they want us to give up. So if you don't fight and don't demand your freedom, then at least don't give up, because then they'll all win. And depend on each other cause they're your family now."
He put an arm around Rommie and another around Brendan.
"Hear him, people." Brendan said. "He's right. The damn Nietzcheans want us to give up and we won't!"
There was a cheer and Harper sensed a surge of patriotism. Patriotism for a country that wasn't.
"Harper, most of the sensors I placed in the city last time are still there. I could place more though." Rommie said.
He nodded. "That might be a good idea."
As Rommie went to Brendan and asked about the ideal locations for arrays, Harper stood in the midst of the rebellion. He could feel the energy buzzing about, people who were war-torn but ready to fight. It felt good.