This is an AU story which takes place in something that greatly resembles and may in fact be Andromeda-verse. There are also minor references to Firefly. However, no knowledge of either show is required to understand this story.
Many thanks to my beta, Crapicus.
But oh alas, so long, so far
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They are ours, though they are not we; we are
The intelligences, they the sphere.
-John Donne
John Sheppard longed to fly his own ship, to sit in the pilot's seat and feel the craft respond to his touch, to have that front-row ticket to the stars. He was born to be a pilot; it was in his very blood. Why a simple juvenile prank in flight school should compromise that dream, thatdestiny, he would never understand. He supposed he should count himself fortunate that he was on a starship at all; he had certainly heard enough people tell him how lucky he was that his father had enough pull with the Council to not only keep him from being dishonorably discharged but also get him this posting. But try as he might, he could not be grateful. He was a glorified cabin boy, little better than a gofer, running errands for the captain at all hours and despised by the crew for the blatant nepotism that he represented. Two days on board and he was already thinking of ways to escape.
He figured the fighter bay would be his best bet and decided to scout it out one afternoon while the captain took a nap. He pictured himself stealing a fighter, blasting out into space, becoming a free agent, no responsibilities, no following orders or running errands, just him and his ship and the vastness of the universe to explore. It would be glorious.
The fighter bay was empty when he arrived, to his delight; this would be easier than he had thought. He started toward the nearest fighter and stopped short. A mechanic was bent double over the engine compartment – at least, John assumed it was a mechanic. He couldn't see anything except the man's rear end sticking up in the air and his legs dangling beneath, occasionally kicking slightly as the man squirmed deeper into the fighter's interior. John backed away slowly, hoping to escape before the mechanic even noticed he was there.
No such luck. A muffled voice came from the engine compartment and John paused, wondering if the comment had been directed toward him or just a frustrated outburst. Before he had a chance to move, the mechanic had extricated himself from the fighter and turned to face him. His hair was sticking up in a few different directions and there was a smudge of grease across his cheek, but the comic sight was tempered by his fierce scowl.
"Are you deaf? I said, 'What do you want?'" he began rudely, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Sorry," John replied sarcastically, "your head was up that fighter's –"
"What do you want?" the mechanic repeated.
"Nothing," John shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Just looking."
"Why?" The mechanic's tone was really starting to grate on John's nerves.
"None of your business," John shot back. He did technically outrank this guy.
The mechanic snorted. "Everything on this ship is my business."
"Oh, yeah?" John sneered. Who did this guy think he was? "And why is –"
For the second time in as many minutes, John was interrupted. This time it wasn't the surly mechanic, however, but the ship rocking violently in what could only be an explosion. John was knocked to the floor, cracking his head on the protruding edge of a fighter wing on the way down, and the last thing he saw was the mechanic – who had somehow managed to stay upright – dashing from the bay, fear and concern etched on his face.
John's head felt like it was going to explode. He'd never had a headache this bad, not even after he'd gotten spectacularly drunk after his expulsion and woken up the next day in a strange bed, pantsless and amnesiac. And this headache wasn't even mitigated by the presence of an almost-naked sexy brunette sleeping next to him. What was her name? Gina? Janna? Something like that…But that was then and this was a very painful now.
John groaned and tried to roll over. This bed was awfully hard, even for his military-groomed taste. Cracking one eye open as much as bearable, he could just make out the silver gleam of what was almost definitely not a bed. What the hell had happened?
The sound of pounding footsteps reverberating through what he now realized was the floor set his teeth on edge. As if the sledgehammer to the skull hadn't been enough, someone was trying to finish him off with multiple hammer blows to his sensitive cranium.
"Stop," he mumbled, clutching his head and curling into a fetal position. "Stop…"
"You're alive!" a voice exclaimed from somewhere above him as the pounding got closer and finally, mercifully, stopped. "I thought it was a malfunction…"
He felt hands on him, tugging him painfully into a sitting position and exploring his wrists, neck, back of his head. There was a tingling sensation at the base of his skull and it took him a moment to realize that the pain was gone. Or at least dulled significantly. He could open his eyes properly now, and was greeted with the sight of the disagreeable mechanic frowning at him from a distance John wasn't entirely comfortable with.
"I'm not supposed to do that," the mechanic informed him, "but I need you. Can you stand?"
"Do what?" John asked, still a little fuzzy. He got a hand under himself, though, and tried to stand. It wouldn't have gone so well but for the mechanic's surprisingly strong grip on his arm, helping him to his feet and leaning him against the fighter he'd been sitting under.
"Interface with your neural pathways," the mechanic said, waving a hand dismissively. "But you're no use to me lying half-conscious under a fighter, so I took the liberty of blocking your pain receptors. Besides, there's no one to tell me otherwise now."
"What?" The mechanic talked awfully fast, but John caught the significance of his last sentence. "What do you mean? What happened?"
"Yes, yes, all in good time," the mechanic replied impatiently. "Can you walk?"
"I think so…" John tried a step or two but his knees failed and he sank to the floor in a heap. He expected the pain to come charging back, but whatever the mechanic had done had really worked and he felt only a slight pressure as his body contacted the hard floor.
"Oh, never mind," the mechanic sighed. He bent down and grabbed John around the thighs, tossing him with a disturbing abandon over his shoulder. John was startled by the ease with which the mechanic handled him; he wasn't a big man, sure, and the mechanic wasn't exactly tiny, but he'd looked less muscle than…cushion. His appearance apparently belied his strength, however, if John's head dangling somewhere around his posterior was anything to judge by.
"You know," John said, his words coming out jerkily because of the way his torso was bouncing against the mechanic's back, "usually I buy a guy dinner before we get physical." He thought he heard a snort. "Or at least I know his name…"
"Call me Rodney," the mechanic said as he turned a corner and narrowly avoided smacking John's head against a bulkhead.
"John," he replied. "I'd shake your hand, but…" Another snort. "So…why do you need me, exactly?"
"You're a pilot," Rodney answered, jogging up a flight of stairs so that John's teeth knocked together uncomfortably. "Albeit a half-trained flight school washout whose ego probably matches or exceeds that of a seasoned captain, regardless, but a pilot nonetheless."
John was too distracted by his unnerving journey to be insulted, but he did wonder, "How'd you know that?"
"I told you, everything on this ship is my business."
"Yeah, I was wondering about that. I mean, I've heard that mechanics are awfully protective of their ships and all, but aren't you pushing it a little?"
"Mechanic?" Rodney squawked in surprise and John was afraid he might drop him. "Goodlord, did you miss the orientation tour? Or were you just hung over?" John found himself dumped unceremoniously into a chair and recognized it as the pilot's seat on the bridge. His pleasure at finally sitting in this seat was severely curbed by Rodney's face only inches from his, glowering sternly at his apparent idiocy.
"I was…assigned to the ship late," John explained, hating the reminder of exactly how he had gotten this position.
"Oh, right, your father," Rodney nodded knowingly, backing away. "Well, I guess you can be forgiven for not giving me the respect I deserve, then, though I expect it from now on."
"Okay, just tell me," John ground out, fed up with the games. "Who the hell are you?"
"Zelenka Enterprises AI model RDZ 383, serial number M3R-R0-DN3," Rodney rattled off, "also known as the Knowledge of Ancients. Affectionately," he frowned, "referred to as Rodney by my crew."
"You–" John could barely speak. "You're the ship?"
"Yes," Rodney smirked. "Well, more accurately, the android avatar of the ship's artificial intelligence. But simply speaking, yes, I am the ship."
It took John several minutes to wrap his head around this development. He'd heard about ship's avatars but he'd never met one. He'd actually sort of thought they were a myth. But there was nothing mythical about Rodney, standing there with his arms crossed, impatiently waiting for John to get over his shock and get with the program.
"So, wait," John asked, confused, "if you're the ship, why do you need me to fly it?"
Rodney managed to sigh exasperatedly and look at John as if he were stupid (again) at the same time. "I know you were expelled, but did you even go to flight school at all?" John scowled but Rodney continued with his explanation as if he hadn't noticed. "After several incidents of AIs going insane or rogue, legislation was passed to prevent further occurrences. Now when an AI is joined with its ship, safeguards are put in place to ensure that the AI can never take over completely and fly the ship. Without an organic pilot, I'm dead in the water. Get the picture?"
"You never did tell me," John remembered suddenly, "what happened to the crew?"
Rodney's jaw tightened and he turned to fiddle with some control panel. "Llewar," he muttered darkly. "They attacked without warning. I tried my best, but…" He trailed off, staring out the large front window into the vastness of space.
John had trouble mourning the others; he had never gotten along with any of them. But he did feel sorry for Rodney. They had been his crew, and for a ship, John supposed, that was as close as he had to family. Not to mention the guilt he must have felt for not being able to save them.
"Why," John started, hesitant to break into Rodney's reverie. The android started slightly but turned to look at him, which John took as an invitation to continue. "Why'd they leave me?"
Rodney's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Me." John's face must have registered his confusion because Rodney continued, "They hit my shield generators first; that's how they were able to get their beams through and grab the crew. But the fighter bay has a separate shield array that they didn't hit. Their initial sweep didn't catch you and when they scanned for any life-signs they might have missed…" Rodney looked almost embarrassed, "I jammed their scanners. They didn't see you."
"And they left you because…?"
"I don't register as a life-sign, obviously," Rodney snapped. "I don't exactly suit their appetite."
"So…" John cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation away from what was obviously still painful to Rodney. "Where to, boss?"
"Wow, never thought I'd hear that word from the mouth of a pilot," Rodney commented sarcastically and John grinned. He hadn't known the android for long but it hadn't taken long to realize that a sarcastic Rodney was a happy Rodney. Or at least a normal one.
The next couple of days were a pleasant blur of activity for John. Rodney kept them flying all over the galaxy, trying to stay one step ahead of the Llewar. Ironically, it had been their initial flight away from the site of the attack that had alerted the Llewar to their – or at least John's – existence and now they found themselves constantly on the run. John had pointed this out to Rodney a few times and always received the same irritable reply: "You think we should have just stayed on an inert ship in the middle of nowhere for fifty years?" John knew they'd had no other choice but he still liked to jerk Rodney's chain every now and then.
It was only on their third day, after a particularly close call with a Llewar fighter, that John realized Rodney didn't have to run at all. The Llewar didn't care about androids; all they wanted were humans to feed on. John wondered why Rodney didn't just cut and run, toss him out of an airlock or something and sit tight until the Council sent someone to salvage him. John figured it was because Rodney would be bored silly just sitting around waiting to be rescued.
John liked to think he provided some level of companionship to Rodney; Rodney certainly did for him. He could be annoying as hell sometimes, sure, but his biting sarcasm was kind of growing on John. He wasn't sure if Rodney was softening or if he was just getting used to his acerbic attitude, but the android's words and actions seemed to be losing the edge that they'd had when they first met. When Rodney talked to John, he no longer seemed to regard him as a dumb "half-trained flight school washout" – though he would throw in the occasional insult just to keep up appearances. For his part, John was beginning to realize just how remarkable Rodney was. He was capable of operating the entire ship – life support, artificial gravity, a dozen simulations and diagnostics, sensors, shields, and countless other tasks John didn't even know about – and holding a conversation with John at the same time. And boy did they have conversations…
They talked about family (such as it was), flying, their lives before the attack that had thrown them together, philosophy, politics, fears, hopes – John wasn't sure there was anything they hadn't covered in the last three days. He was surprised by the range and depth of emotions Rodney was capable of. He knew AIs were programmed to be as similar to humans as possible, but it really was amazing to see. More than once he'd forgotten Rodney wasn't human, only to be recalled to reality with a startling jolt when Rodney said something…mechanical. John found himself curious about Rodney's emotions, wondering if he experienced them the same way as humans, wondering just how many emotions he was actually capable of feeling.
"Can androids have relationships?" he blurted one day as he carefully navigated an asteroid field.
Rodney looked at him strangely. "That's a stupid question."
"I was always taught there's no such thing as a stupid question," John retorted.
"Yes, well, you were taught by stupid people," Rodney shot back. "To answer your question, though, yes. Obviously. We have relationships with our operators, whether that's a crew for a ship's avatar or an upper-class family for a service android."
"Yeah, but," John wasn't sure why he was asking, except that he was deeply curious for some reason, "I mean like, a relationship. With another android. Y'know…"
"You mean a romantic relationship?" Rodney, as usual, cut straight to the point. "It's an interesting question, actually. Philosophers have been debating it since artificial intelligence first developed. There have been a few documented cases, probably several more undocumented. It's not against our programming, so I suppose the answer would be, yes, we can."
"But you've never…"
Rodney turned to stare at John, squinting slightly as if trying to determine what John was after. "No. I haven't. Have you?"
"Have I what? Had a relationship with an android?" John had meant it as a joke but somewhere between the words sticking funny in his throat and Rodney's face twisting strangely when he heard, the words became far more loaded.
Silence descended onto the bridge as John steered around one last asteroid and they emerged into clear space. John set a course for a nearby planet and turned to look at Rodney again. The android had busied himself with the control panel on the opposite side of the bridge and was determinedly not looking at John.
John took a deep breath and hoped he had interpreted Rodney's earlier behavior correctly. Striding over to where the android stood muttering to himself and flipping switches, John grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Before the very startled Rodney could make any sarcastic remarks, John had the android's face in his hands and his mouth covering his. Rodney whimpered slightly and John pressed harder, more desperately.
Suddenly, though, John felt Rodney's hands on his chest, pushing him away. He fought it but the android was stronger than him and he found himself staring questioningly at Rodney's guilty face. The android returned his gaze briefly before turning away with a muttered, "Thatis against our programming," and hurrying off the bridge.
John stalked the corridors for an hour, fuming. He was pissed. At the android programmers for having so much say in their creations' lives, at Rodney for leading him on like that and then just leaving him out in the cold, but mostly at himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. He usually prided himself on being above things like feelings and emotions. Well, except maybe anger.
That anger was churning inside him now as he stormed through the ship, not headed anywhere in particular but not exactly stopping his feet as they propelled him toward Rodney's recharge bay. They were going to have to talk this out – yelling it out, actually, seemed a bit more likely. They had to live with each other all alone in the blackness of space; even if they couldn't make a go of it – whatever 'it' was – they needed to get along in order to survive.
John realized he'd come to a stop outside of Rodney's recharge bay. He'd asked the android about it their first day and received a long-winded explanation about the current level of battery technology and exactly how long an android's power pack could last before needing to be recharged – dependant on the level of activity, of course – and while it wasn't sleeping, thank you, he would not make it pleasant for John if he were ever awoken during a recharging cycle.
John took a deep breath and tried not to sound too angry as he called, "Rodney? We need to talk."
"What did I tell you about interrupting my recharge?" Rodney yelled back through the door.
"That it was manly and impulsive?" John quipped before sighing and trying again. "Look, Rodney, we're kind of stuck together out here and I think –"
"I don't really give a damn what you think," Rodney shouted. "Now leave me alone!"
John made a rude gesture at the doorway before aiming a swift kick at the nearest wall. His foot landed with a string of curses, partly at the pain that shot through his leg and partly at Rodney for making things so difficult.
The door hissed open and Rodney's head poked out, frowning mightily. "I'll thank you to not put dents in my hull, if you don't mind." He moved to slam the door but John was too fast for him and got his foot in the opening.
"We need to talk," John growled, past reason.
"I don't think there's much to talk about," Rodney retorted.
"I think there is," John shot back, trying to squeeze his way into Rodney's room. Rodney wasn't giving an inch on the door and John was reminded just how superhuman the android's strength was.
"And once again, I don't give a damn what a vastly inferior brain like yours thinks."
John was so startled he almost let go of the door. "Is that what this is about?" The anger flared again and he renewed his assault on the door. "I'm not good enough for you?"
"This is about there being very specific protocols written into my base code against getting involved with humans! I can't change what I am, all right? So just leave it and go on your merry way, okay, Kirk?"
"Kirk?"
Rodney made an annoyed noise in his throat. "They don't teach history like they used to…It's an Earth-That-Was thing. Captain Kirk, great seducer of the galaxy. He, ah," Rodney hesitated, "he liked to grab women by the shoulders."
John fought the smile that was tugging at his lips despite his anger. "You liked that, huh?"
Rodney scowled. "This isn't about likes or dislikes. This is about you realizing what is and what is not possible, and respecting what I am."
"I respect you, Rodney," John said quietly. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Yeah," Rodney replied, almost inaudible. "Me neither."
John abruptly let go of the door, grabbing Rodney roughly by the shoulders with a small grin before attacking the android's mouth with his own. Rodney, taken by surprise, moaned softly and wrapped his fingers in John's rowdy hair before his programming kicked in and he stiffened. His hands dropped to his sides and he pulled away from John, scowling deeply as tears (John didn't know androids could cry) welled in his eyes.
"Damn you," he whispered, slamming the door in John's face. John stood, staring at the offending slab of metal in stunned silence for a moment, before slamming his fist against it in frustration. No indignant cries, no outraged bellows from Rodney, which only made John angrier. He stomped through the corridors to the bridge, hoping he could find some measure of peace in the familiar patterns of flight.
John didn't start worrying until several hours later when Rodney still hadn't emerged from his recharge bay. He briefly wondered if he'd made the android suicidal and was about to run into Rodney's room to make sure he was all right when he remembered that androids were forbidden to harm themselves. Still, it probably wouldn't hurt to check up on him. Then again, John was probably the last person Rodney wanted to see right then…but on the other hand, there weren't a whole of options.
John was still wrestling with himself when Rodney appeared on the bridge, stepping soundlessly onto the flight deck and tapping John lightly on the shoulder. John jumped, twisting around to face his attacker, relaxing when he realized it was only Rodney.
"Hey," he managed, past his heart, which had somehow lodged itself in his throat. He struggled to maintain a casual air. "You scared me, buddy."
Rodney didn't answer, just beckoned for him to follow and turned to leave the bridge. John, puzzled, followed. At least the android wasn't yelling, although John rather thought that might have been a better sign.
When they reached the engine room, Rodney stopped abruptly so that John almost ran into him. When the android turned around, they were less than a foot apart. John's breath hitched at Rodney's proximity, but Rodney refused to meet his eyes.
Suddenly, Rodney had John's face in his hands and his mouth on John's. Stunned, John couldn't move as the android kissed him hard, searchingly. When his brain finally caught up to his senses, he pushed Rodney away with a frown. It wasn't easy; Rodney had already shown how much stronger he was than John, and he was pretty determined.
"Hold on," John panted, staring at the android in shock. "Wait just a damn minute. What the hell happened to 'specific protocols in your base code'? 'Realizing what's not possible'? 'Against your programming'?"
"I, ah," Rodney looked embarrassed, "I rewrote it."
"Rewrote…?"
"Rewrote my base code."
"So…no more 'specific protocols'?" John checked.
"No," Rodney confirmed.
"Why the hell didn't you do that before?" John demanded.
"What?" Rodney was indignant, defensive.
"You go on and on about not being able to be with me, but you could have changed that all along! Why didn't you say so?" John paused, considering. "Unless…you really don't want…this…"
"Don't be stupid," Rodney snapped, and had John not been so angry and confused and desperate for Rodney to kiss him again he might have grinned at the return to familiar ground. "If I didn't want…this…I wouldn't have rewritten my base code! And I didn't mention it before because it honestly didn't occur to me and it's not exactly as easy as it sounds, thank you, so before you go accusing people of not being attracted to you, you ought to consider –" That was as far as he got before he gave up and decided to just show John that he meant it.
Slowly, almost tentatively, reaching out his arm, he gently placed his fingers at the base of John's skull, then jammed his free hand into a mass of wiring exposed by a missing panel in the wall. John stiffened, startled by the intimate gesture, but as Rodney started massaging the back of his neck – accompanied by a very pleasant tingling sensation – he felt himself relax. And then…
He wasn't sure if the sensation was more akin to being smashed in the head with a brick or making love to a gorgeous woman. Information was flowing into his brain at an alarming rate, overloading his senses and rendering him almost inert. He couldn't think; he couldn't move; he could barely feel Rodney's fingers on his skull – Rodney. Rodney's presence was pervasive throughout the data streaming into John's mind and it took a moment for John to realize that the data was Rodney, all the numbers and figures and schematics that made the ship run, made the ship Rodney.
John drew a shuddering breath, intoxicated by his closeness to Rodney – far closer than physical, far closer than even sexual contact could ever bring him. He was literally inside the android's head, experiencing his world from his point of view. For the first time, he wondered how Rodney was experiencing this, this…intercourse. Did he have the same access to John's mind as he was giving John to his?
John opened his eyes, hardly realizing they had been closed. Rodney was standing an arm's length from him, his hand still on the back of John's neck, unmoving, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Driven by the intimacy flooding his mind, John imitated Rodney's hold on the back of his head and drew him into a kiss. Rodney's eyes fluttered open in surprise and a second later, John realized why.
The explosion of pleasure that burst in his mind was several times more powerful than the initial mind-meld. Not only was Rodney now apparently sharing what seemed like emotion, rather than simply information, but every synapse in John's mind was electrified by the physical sensations, intensifying the experience a hundredfold.
Caught up in the cresting wave of emotion, John wasn't even aware of attempting to allow Rodney access to his mind. Suddenly, though, he felt the android's strong presence seep into his mind and the intensity of the experience almost stopped his heart. Their minds were flowing together now, neither holding anything back from the other. In minutes there was little distinguishing one from the other.
The two – human pilot and ship's android – had become truly, inextricably, one.