Ok, this is my first andromeda fic…….I'm more into final fantasy 7. I don't own the groovy show or the lovely men folk.
This a short fic about Harper's thoughts at the end of Angel Dark, Demon Bright. And how he goes and tries to apologize to a certain Tyr.
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"We win."
Yeah, we did. At the cost of over 100 000 uber lives. I thought that would give me a happy joy joy feeling but I feel strangely empty. No, that ain't right. Not empty. Just really numb inside.
Making the bomb was fun, a Harper Original. Who else could claim that they made a freakily huge nebula lighting bomb?
No one. Cause as soon as it was over, I erased the entire thing from Rommie's database. Some other moron can show it to the world but not me.
I was so set on killing them, making them feel my pain but once I did that. Once I saw the bomb go off…it wasn't fun anymore. I felt my pride at the weapon fade away as I saw the ships blow up, one by one. I imagined their screams as the ship blew up all around them. I winced every time I heard the explosions.
My smile, that sick, cruel thing that was plastered on my face. Fell as soon as I realised what I did. I'm not going to be smiling for awhile. I have no right. I saw my reflection. I didn't like what I saw.
I feel really guilty.
I helped bring down a whole heap of freaking ships at the battle of Witch head.
I became what I hated, what I have always tried not to be. A mass murderer. My weapon, my bomb, my creation, is this how the guys who built the H- Bomb felt when they saw it go off? Doubt it.
Maybe Trance should of talked me out of it but I was so eager to kill them. Eager to make a difference. Maybe I am no different from the ubers…no, wait. Not ubers.
Nietzscheans.
I didn't kill a hundred thousand uber or Nietzchean. I killed a lot of humans. Maybe some of them were innocent, some who were just following orders. I'll never really know, not unless I actually take the time to go looking for the names of the lost ones. The names of my victims.
I haven't spoken to Tyr or seen him since the fight. I don't think I could face him…I can't even face my self at the moment.
But, here I am, going along to his quarters to say 'Sorry'.
Sorry for blowing up your people, sorry for even being here. I should of got the slipstream up and working a lot faster.
Maybe talking to Rev would be better or maybe Trance. Confess how I feel to them, instead of talking to the hugely scary Tyr. At least they won't slap me across the room like I was some kind of rag doll.
My footsteps aren't as loud as my heartbeat as I walk down the metal decks of the ship, I'm getting closer to the man's quarters and I am scared. I know he doesn't like me at the best of times but after this?
I stop at his door, hand raised and poised at the small pad that will grant me access to his room and I freeze.
I can't do this. Tears well in my eyes and I blink. They fall from my face and down my cheeks. Why am I crying?! I am not the one who just watched his people die. I'm the sick monster who made the weapon of death.
Dylan said that 'He was death.'
No. That would be me.
Seamus Zelazny Harper.
I turn away from the door and head back up the corridor, it now seems to be miles long. Much longer than what it was before.
Will I ever say sorry to Tyr? For killing so much of his people? I stop and turn round……
Not today.
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Ok….well? I may do more andromeda fics but I dunno. It depends on how well this goes down.