Disclaimer: Andromeda and characters are the property of Tribune. Infringement is not intended. This is purely for enjoyment.
Rating: G. It's clean; it's wholesome…oh dear…
Summary: Will the human body of Rommie fall asleep? The crew stays up to find out.
Notes: Just something that popped into my head the other night while I was trying to get to sleep. This takes place the night following Rommie's creation in "To Lose the Faithful Lightning."
Does Andromeda Dream of Electric Sheep?
By
NorthernStar
2030 hours.
Andromeda stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was surprised to note that it didn't look any different, just more….dimensional. She knew her own face, of course, but had never looked at it in this way before. With eyes.
Eyes that were no different than any other human's. This was how she appeared to them. To Dylan.
She was wearing nothing but a shirt; one of Harper's many coloured nightmares, that Dylan had covered her with on the bridge a few hours ago. It hung off her frame well. Maybe even pleasingly.
Pleasing to Dylan?
She touched her hair. It felt rougher, courser than she expected, but she approved of the colour, which was rich and solid.
She was human.
Well, sort of. This bit was made of human flesh, but the rest was still the sum of her programming. This body was the equivalent of some added software. Did that really make her human?
"I've found something for you." Beka said as she walked up, "I think it'll fit."
Beka Valentine handed over a pair of her own black trousers and a deep blue tunic. "It'll do 'til we can get you something else."
"Thank you." Rommie took the clothes and then looked awkward.
Beka stared at her for a moment and then went "oh," as she realised what was wrong.
Rommie had never dressed herself before.
"Here, I'll hold them out for you."
******
2100 hours.
Dylan walked along side Rommie, oddly embarrassed and a bit overwhelmed by this sudden transformation.
He wanted the answers to a lot of questions right now. Like where the hell did her body come from and how did Harper make-
No, he wasn't even going to think that one!
But the thought trickled into his mind despite his efforts. Was she a real woman? And have to deal with all the things that human women have, like menstruation. Would she have periods? And become trapped into the endless hormonal rollercoaster because of them? Would that affect the running of the ship if-?
Dylan Hunt,
he berated himself, Sara always said you missed a great calling as a chauvinist.But he couldn't help wondering all the same. Could she conceive?
Could she, um….do the things that led to conceiving?
Dylan cleared his throat and faced forward. OK, so those sorts of questions are out. But there was other stuff he could ask. Normal human things.
He searched for something normal.
Nothing.
Then it came to him. He was escorting her to the quarters he'd assigned her. Dylan had had to convince her that she needed them and he had offered to show her the way. She'd been surprised at that, she knew the ship inside and out, after all, but she hadn't objected.
And what were quarter's for?
"So, Rommie," he asked, trying to sound casual. "Do you know if you can sleep?"
******
2130 hours.
Beka dropped by with some nightwear almost as soon as Rommie had finished inspecting her quarters. She'd never given much thought to her crew's home comforts but as she studied the spacious rooms her human self would live in; she was pleased to note her designers had done a good job.
Beka tried to ignore Dylan's presence as she handed one of her spare nighties to Rommie. "I don't know if you needed one…of, um, those. But I thought…" She trailed off in horror as Andromeda unfolded it and held it up. It was made of a thin black gauzy material and trimmed with lace.
"It is very small." Rommie concluded.
Dylan's jaw hit the floor and he quickly tried to look anywhere else but at the nightie.
Beka blushed. "So, er…Rommie," her voice was flustered, "do you, um…do you think you'll…sleep?"
Rommie frowned as she put the nightie down on the table. "I don't know."
******
2145 hours.
They debated the issue for a while. Both Dylan and Beka decided that she would. A human brain needs to switch off for at least seven or eight hours every twenty-four and that's what Rommie had now.
But Andromeda wasn't so sure. For a start, she didn't feel any different than when she'd 'woken', certainly nothing that could be considered tiredness.
So in the end they called in Harper.
He arrived with Trance and took one look at the crowd in Rommie's quarters. "Hey, party!"
"I called you here to ask about Rommie's human body…" began Dylan.
Harper looked his creation up and down with a satisfied smile. "Excellent work." He said, "even if I do say so myself."
Rommie stared coldly back.
"Do you think she'll need to sleep?"
"Well, she's human, so…" he shrugged, "I don't know."
"Harper," Beka frowned, "when you found the schematics for Rommie, didn't it say if she would be able too?"
"I only got the 'how to…' part, not the 'congratulations on your purchase of your Ship Made Flesh, it's many special features include…' That's, like, the most boring part. Who reads that?"
"So you created something without bothering to find out anything about it?"
"I…er, I know about the ext-um," Harper avoided their eyes, "yeah, I guess I did, sorta, but, it's Rommie, you know. And it's not like we couldn't do with another pair of hands round here, right?"
"But will I sleep?" Rommie asked.
"I don't know."
"I hope you can." Trance said, "it's wonderful. And dreams are so…beautiful!"
"Not all the time." Added Beka. "We have bad dreams too."
Trance's tail drooped, "yeah."
"But fortunately, those sorts of dreams are rare." Dylan assured her.
Harper looked away.
"Do you feel tired?" Trance asked. "You have to be tired to go to sleep."
Rommie frowned. "No."
******
2230 hours.
Trance quietly slipped off sometime later and returned with a tray of mugs. She put it on the coffee table and everyone helped themselves to a cup.
Everyone except Rommie.
Dylan nodded towards the last cup. "Have some warm milk."
"I do not know if I'm able to ingest." She replied, looking pointedly at Harper.
The young man grinned, "I gave you a stomach."
"It'll help you sleep." Dylan said.
"I believe that is what's called 'an old wife's tale'."
"And in this case, it's true."
"Yeah," agreed Harper, "you go to bed to avoid drinking it." He'd already put his cup down the moment he'd realised it wasn't coffee.
"I like warm milk." Trance said with a pout.
"I'm with Harper on this." Beka put in.
Both Hunt and Trance frowned at her.
"My mother used to torture my brother and me with a cup of this muck every night. Trust me, Rommie, don't try it."
"I think you should make up your own mind." Trance said quietly.
Rommie picked up the last remaining mug and sniffed the contents. It didn't smell unappealing. She put the cup to her lips and sipped. It was warm and bland, but not at all unpleasant.
Four sets of eyes watched her face for a verdict. "Acceptable," she said, "however, I have never tasted anything before. This gives me little context for a informed opinion."
Harper jumped up, pulling Trance with him. "We can correct that!"
******
2330 hours.
The coffee table was littered with plates and cups and the crumb remnants of a large meal. Harper and Trance had brought a sample of almost everything in the stores to Rommie's quarters. They'd been so weighed down with food that Harper had called Tyr and Rev on the Comm to help them carry it all. When they got to Rommie's new quarters, they had laid it all out on the table and Rommie had begun tasting.
And naturally everyone else had joined in too.
Now they all sat around, stomach's full but still nibbling on the leftover chocolate cake, debating the very serious issue of whether the vindaloo had been better than the balti and was warm milk really the most vile drink in existence. Only Rev did not join in, preferring to listen to the opinions and silently nod his agreement now and again. Tyr's contributions were few and far between, the Nietzschean was as brooding as always.
Rommie watched them, as did Hunt.
The human form of the ship turned to her captain with a frown. "You're smiling." Rommie accused him quietly.
"Yeah." Dylan nodded, also speaking softly so the rest of the crew wouldn't overhear. "This…it's good to see. Thank you, Rommie."
Rommie watched as Harper poured out some beers and handed them out. Dylan accepted his glass and took a long draught before continuing. "This is a good exercise."
"Consuming food and alcohol?"
"They're relaxing together. Laughing, arguing."
"How can arguing be good?"
"It's not the arguing, Rommie, it's…" he waved his hand expressively to get his point across, "it's bonding. That's good for the morale. Good for the ship, for the mission."
"I see." It was said in a tone that suggested she didn't.
And with another smile, Dylan joined in the argument.
******
0045 hours.
Trance yawned.
And like an infection, Hunt and Beka immediately caught it. Harper soon followed.
Then they all turned to look at Rommie. They waited.
Two seconds later, Rommie felt the uncontrollable urge to open her mouth and gape air.
Harper pointed in triumph. "You're tired!"
She did feel a little odd. Kind of weighty and the thought of getting off the chair wasn't an automatic one, rather one that would require a lot more thinking about before it needed to be done.
"I believe I am."
"Close your eyes." Said Harper with excitement. "That's how we fall asleep."
Rommie looked to Dylan who nodded. She sighed and laid her head back, letting her eyelids fall. The position suddenly felt very relaxing.
Or it would be if she didn't know they were all staring at her.
"You could try counting sheep," suggested Trance.
"Yeah, electric sheep." Harper put in.
Rommie opened her eyes. "I am not an android, Mr Harper." She said, and closed them again.
A long while passed…
******
0100 hours.
Rommie opened her eyes, just a crack. Dylan's head was nodding on his chest, which rose and fell deeply. He did look beautiful when he slept.
Beka was stretched out on the sofa, her head pillowed by her crossed arms and Tyr dozed in the chair opposite, his body held as rigid in rest as at work. Trance had curled into Harper's side, her head on his shoulder and his cheek rested against the top of her head.
Human sleep…how peaceful it looked.
She smiled to herself and closed her eyes. She longed to experience it but…
What would happen, would happen.
And maybe she really would dream of electric sheep…
~~END~~
© T S "NORTHERN STAR" FENN