Exoskeleton*

*a hard, supporting or protective structure developed on the outside of the body

Beka stepped into Harper's quarters. The room was cast in darkness; the only lights were the crimson glow from the lava lamp perched on the dresser and the soft light coming from the bathroom. The shower was on. A cloud of steam was slowly creeping out from under the bathroom door and from the sound of surging water against tile, Harper had on the water full blast.

She skirted a pile of clothes that had been tossed on the floor. She noted with a smile that all of Harper's tools and small unfinished projects and parts were lying carefully on Harper's worktable. She glanced again at the pile and paused to crouch down and pull out a bloody pair of pants. There were blood-edged slashes in the fabric and deep moist stains nearly everywhere else. She sorted through the rest of the clothes. Most of them were in the same condition, thick with blood and acrid sweat. Harper's favorite blue and black shirt had claw marks in the back.

The shower shut off and the silence was just as loud.

"Harper?" she called softly.

Harper's right foot had been bleeding and she followed the eerie lopsided tracks in the carpet. The bathroom door was ajar and she pushed it open.

"Harper?"

The frosted glass of the shower doors were milky with condensation. There was a smear of blood on the doors. She realized the water must have shut off automatically because Harper was nowhere near the faucet. He was sitting on the floor of the shower, back to the farthest wall, knees drawn to his chest and arms around his stomach.

Harper wasn't making a sound. She could barely hear him breathing over the trickle of residual water down the drain.

"He's going to make it," she said softly. "I just came from the med deck."

He didn't move.

"And just in case you're dumb enough to blame yourself for what happened? It's not your fault."

She waited a moment longer. Then she crept out of the bathroom and rifled though Harper's drawers for some clean clothes. The best she could find was a fluffy grey bathrobe and she hugged the garment against herself as she brought it into the bathroom and left it folded it on the counter.

She left the bathroom and collected the pile of dirty clothes, hoping one of the bots would be able to fix his shirt.

The bathroom door clicked shut and she turned around. Harper stood behind her, wrapped in the bathrobe. Water dripped from his hair. His face was bruised and there was a cut on his forehead. He was shivering.

He blinked rapidly and she could see the shine of tears on his cheeks.

She set the clothes on his bed and gathered him in her arms.

She didn't tell anyone he cried.

The End

September 18, 2001