Early Days

By: Ghost

Just a reminder, this is chapter 3.

Disclaimer: Andromeda belongs to Tribune Entertainment (not really, the name is from a Greek myth…sigh I know, I know-- the show does). I'm not making any money from this. Please don't shoot me.

Notes: I just read over some of the other chapters, and man, do they need edited!! I'm sorry. It's just that the actual writing is going so well right now, I don't want to throw off my momentum. If (when) this is ever finished, rest assured, it will be heavily edited and betaed, and reposed as a single fic (without chapters).

By the way, anybody interested in being a beta? There's no pay, and the work is killer, but man, gotta love those non-perks. ::sheepish grin::

Thanks to Raven, Amelia, Starfish, Parisindy and X. It's nice to know someone's reading it, and possibly enjoying it. :) . Raven, thanks, I was worried about the characterization. I'm glad to know I haven't missed the mark completely.

Okay, enough of my babbling, let's get on with-- er, my babbling…

~~*~~

~Thrip.

"Eighty-six thousand, nine hundred four."

A rough voice croaked in the dark, still room.

~Thrip.

"Eighty-six thousand, nine hundred five."

He knew it wasn't the fresh water. If there had been a leak in those lines, someone would have been down here ages ago.

~Thrip.

"Eighty-six thousand, nine hundred six."

He figured it was a sewer line. It would explain the smell.

~Thrip.

"Eighty-six thousand, nine hundred seven."

Though it made the dampness in his seem cell even worse, somehow. Less of a 'Jeeze' kinda situation and more of an 'Eww'.

~Thrip.

"Eighty-six thousand, nine hundred and eight."

He wasn't sure how long he'd be down here. Long enough to loose track of the days. Long enough to be dizzy from hunger. Long enough that the worst of the bruises hurt less, and his face didn't seem to be as swollen anymore.

~Thrip.

"Eighty-six thousand, nine hundred and nine."

Long enough to plan revenge on Shelly. It had to have been her. Had to. She had been the only one to see the parts he had nipped. Too stupid to figure out what those part could be used for, she must have turned him in hopes of a reward.

~Thrip.

"Eighty-six thousand, nine hundred and ten."

They had taken his jammer. The device would have blocked the signal trapping everyone here in the warehouse. His only hope. A chance to run. Get out and go to ground. Maybe find a way to earn enough to get the hell off this hunk of floating metal. Actually see a planet again. Swim in an ocean. 'Cos he knew there was no way they were ever going to just let him go. His time had been up almost three months ago. By planetary law, he should have been set free. But he was too valuable to them. The things he could design, he could make-- not to mention certain enhancements…. He reached up and rubbed at the port in his neck. The skin around it felt stretched and hot. Sore to the touch. It was getting infected. Again.

No surprise, considering where he was at. Cardinal rule of his life: keep the 'port clean. Anything that has direct access to your brain gives everything *else* direct access to your brain.

But his system was probably run down anyway. Not enough food, sitting and sleeping in filth. Oh, and healing up from his punishment for trying to escape. He was surprised he wasn't sick all ready.

~Thrip.


"Eighty-six thousand, nine hundred and…and…hell."

His head hurt. His throat burned. He was cold, hungry, sore-- and sick of setting in the dark. At this point, he wasn't sure if he wouldn't have preferred them killing him.

~Thrip.

He blinked in the almost total darkness. Sighed heavily. Made a sound between a laugh and a sob. "One."

He was on fifty-eight when the door opened.

Eyes tearing painfully against the sudden light, he staggered to his feet, instinctively moving away from the blurry form filling the door. But it just grabbed him, jerking him forward by the scruff of the neck.

"You be a good boy now, Harper. You have a meeting to attend." Justin's voice hissed, as he was dragged down the hall toward the Fungus' private chambers.

Oh shit.

~~*~~

It was late, and she was tired, but Beka had a lot to do before the Fungus' people showed up in the morning.

She walked down one of the market streets, busy even at this time of night -- of course, night and day were only relative terms in perpetual artificial light.

Beka had spent the last hour haggling over supplies, and had managed to get a good deal, once she dropped Mr. Keegan's name. Now, as she wandered the shopping district looking for Tev's place, she found a little extra coin in her possession and splurged here and there.

Like chocolate. It had literally been years since she'd even *seen* chocolate, let alone been able to afford it. It cost a night-sider's ransom, because it was still exported only from Earth. It was rumored that at least two Nietzschean Prides had built their fortunes on cocoa plantations.

Then there were clothes. It had been awhile since she'd gotten some new things, and there was a real leather store right across the street….

And dry goods. They needed to stock up on the Maru. Of course, there were samples to be had in the store. After one or two tastes, well, yes that was good, so she got a case. And that. And there was a new drink. Sparkly Soda. A sip told her it was too sweet, but it was full of caffeine, so, yeah, she wanted a case. It might help for long nights. Tev preferred salty rather than sweet, so she got two crates of salt cured ham and three jugs of Vestter, Tev's favorite drink—which Beka privately thought tasted like sweat.

Speaking of Tev…she ordered everything to be shipped to the Maru's berth, and continued on her way. Found the small parts shop, which, like everything else here seemed to be open all night, and entered.

Tev was overjoyed to see her. It surprised Beka how much tension flowed out of her at the Vicka's greeting. Part of her had honestly expected Tev to refuse to come back. It wasn't like there was a contract between them. But Tev was more than happy to tell her boss off and rejoin Beka.

Beka began to cautiously hope that things were honestly going to get better. This time, things would go right. This trip would be dangerous, but maybe it was the break she had been looking for.

~~*~~

"This may look like the break you were waiting for, and you may be thinking of trying to run. But remember the clip and be smarter than you look." Justin pushed him hard. The unsteady boy staggered and almost went to his knees. Justin jerked him up and started shoving him through the halls again. "You will behave, and be polite, and follow Mr. Tosand's instructions to the letter. Am I understood?"

Harper nodded tiredly. Run? Was Justin insane? Never mind, stupid question. Even if he hadn't been sore and half starved and barely able to *walk*, there was still the small device implanted in his arm, leashing him to the inside of the building like every other inmate. So even if he managed to take Justin down, and run the almost half-mile to the door – through a warehouse full of armed guards – the device would go off as soon as he stepped outside, shocking him into oblivion.

Oh yeah. Running was the first thing he planed to do. He rolled his eyes, wincing as the still stiff and swollen side of his face pulled.

They finally arrived at the Fungus' chambers and, with a quick knock, Justin let them in.

Warm, rich wood paneling. Thick, heavy carpeting. Bright crystal. Elegance. Wealth. Comfort. The room spoke for itself.

And in the middle of it, on a large, plush sofa, sat the Fungus. A rotting body in the midst of it all.

Harper shuddered.

"Ah…" Tosand said, and Harper could hear the slight slur—the man was high, not that Harper really blamed him, he didn't know how sober he would stay if some parasite was eating *him*, "It's the Harper. Finally. I was beginning to think Justin had lost you somewhere downstairs."

"I wasn't so lucky." Harper's voice cracked on the last word.

The Fungus chuckled as Justin shoved Harper harder then necessary on to the carpet in front of him.

"Ah, well. Few of us have the luck we would like," Tosand said, philosophically. "Sit down."

Justin pushed him down and Harper didn't fight as he fell to his knees.

"There. That's better, isn't it." Tosand smiled. "We need to have a conversation, Master Harper."

Harper swallowed at the look the Fungus was giving him. The man might be high, but it hadn't made him mellow. "We do?"

"Oh yes. You see, you've committed a crime by trying to escape from this court appointed detention center."

Harper bristled. "My time's up! I finished my six months three months ago, and you know it, Fungus!"

Tosand glared. No one called him that to his face. Then he slowly smiled, and Harper braced himself. "Six months?" He reached over and picked a flexy up from the table. Read from it. "Your sentence wasn't six months. You were remanded into my custody for a full year, Master Harper."

"What!"

Tosand nodded happily. "It's right here in your records. Which I have access to at all times. You were sentenced to this juvenile facility for stealing a ship for a full year." Tosand picked up a stylus and scribbled something. "Oh, I'm sorry. I miss-read. You're here for a year and six months."

"No! You can't do this!" Harper started to stand, only to have Justin push him back down.

Tosand looked up, meeting Harper's gaze squarely. There was no hint of amusement in him now. "Rest assured, Harper, I can do what I want. Especially with you. You breathe because I will it. You eat only when I say. And you will leave here only when I allow it."

Harper felt the last of his strength dissolve. After all these years, after all the fighting, just to be free…he was owned again. All for a ship he had never even touched in the first place. He knelt on the Fungus' expensive carpet and felt the words sink in. He was never going to be able to leave this place alive.

Fine then. Fuck it. He might not be able to get out of here, but that didn't mean he had to cooperate.

His head came up and he glared at the Fungus. "Fine. So you own me. Whatever. But don't think you're gonna use me, Fungus. 'Cos the next time you put a tool in my hand, I'll find a way to bring this shit hole down on everybody's head."

"You wouldn't. You don't have the balls." Justin sneered from behind him.

Harper's eyes narrowed as he stared at the Fungus. "I will. And he knows I will. *No one* is ever gonna own me again, even if I have to kill all of us to keep it that way."

The Fungus smiled a smug, little smile. "Now, now; no need to be so melodramatic, Master Harper. I did not have to tell you about this at all. No, I could've kept this…news to myself. Utilized your skills as much as possible, while waiting for you to escape – and I have no doubts you would manage to do so eventually—and then simply had you picked up by the authorities and delivered back here. You see, as an escaped criminal, you will never make it off this station.

"However, I don't want to play that game with you. I have a deal for you, Harper. I want you to help the family by playing engineer for a ship on a salvage run."

"And why should I help you?"

"Very simple, Mister Harper. The carrot and the stick."

"The carrot and the stick?" Harper closed his eyes tiredly.

"Indeed. The stick is the job…you will fix the ship as well as maintain it during the journey. You will keep an eye on this 'captain' and find a way to report her movements and activities to me, and *only* me. And, if I require it, you will take her ship and dispose of her crew."

"And the carrot?"

Tosand chuckled. "Why, your freedom, of course. If you perform adequately, I will make sure your records are…misplaced. Not only will you be free to go, you will never have been here in the first place."

"Why should I trust you? If I do this, what's to keep you from just…keeping *me* when I get back?"

"Why, you said it yourself. You would never work for me again, and I couldn't trust you not to at least try to destroy this entire establishment. I would have no reason to keep you."

Harper opened his eyes. "And why should you trust me? What's to keep me from, like, just…leaving, as soon as I'm away from here?"

Tosand's eyes glittered. "Your clip."

"My clip?" Harper lifted his forearm and looked at the insignificant lump that concealed the small mechanical device which kept him here. Arrested, given what passed as a trial, and convicted, he had been sent here. Placed under a sort of house arrest, supervised by Mr. Tosand, they had implanted a small cylinder, about the size of a pen. It worked on bio-electric energy, powered by the tiny electrical pulses put out by human nerve endings. So long as it received a control pulse – originating from these very rooms—it was dormant. But as soon as the host was out of range (in his case, even a foot outside the warehouse doors) it activated, charging those very nerve endings and shorting out the whole nervous system, painfully dropping its host into unconscious.

Harper hated it. The only reason it was still lodged in his arm, was that it was equipped with an anti-removal system. An explosive charge was rigged in the device set to go off as soon as is stopped receiving bio-electrical energy; in other words, a nano-second after it lost contact with the nerve endings, it went boom in a very messy way.

Still there were those who tried to cut it out. They usually lost both hands, the one it was implanted above as well as the one used to pull it out. Some of them had lost eyes too, due to shrapnel. The really lucky ones had taken it in the throat and quickly bleed to death.

Harper had come up with a way around the clip-- a small jamming device that would fool the clip into thinking it was receiving a new security pulse…one that would come form any portable radio. But he had never gotten the chance to complete it, thanks to that delightful little skank, Shelly.

Harper looked up again, confused. "But you'd have to turn my clip off, just to get me dockside. How could it keep me from running?"

"Because Justin is going to make three small adjustments to the device.

"One: the security pulse setting will be removed and replace by a long distance remote activation. If you run, and I can get within five hundred miles of you, I will be able to active the device.

"Two: the 'shock' will be removed. It was if for here, but it is useless in this situation. When and if the device is activated, it will simply explode. At five times the force it is set at now.

"Three: the device will be placed on a timer. We have been informed that the journey should take roughly three solar months. Adding two weeks dockside, and one more when you reach you destination, the timer will be set at four months. If you are not back here by then, the device will detonate.

"Those are the terms, Harper. They are not up for negotiation."

Tosand lead forward and put a hand on Harper's shoulder. His fingers, sticky with old blood and dried puss, brushed against Harper throat. "Just keep in mind, boy, that either way, here or out there, you are mine. Until I choose to free you, you. are. mine." Then the Fungus leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his gut. "So, your decision?"

Harper winced, reaching up to scrub at the residue Tosand had left on his skin with the sleeve of his shirt. It really wasn't a difficult question. If he refused, they would kill him now…or if he was unlucky, they would make his life miserable for a long, long time before they offed him. If he went on this run, he would possibly die, but it wouldn't be here, in this hellhole. And maybe, just maybe, he would be set free at the end of it.

"Do I really have a choice?" He asked them, smiling bitterly, still rubbing at his neck.

~~*~~

Morning found Beka dockside, overseeing the loading of the supplies she had bought last night. Clipboard in hand, she carefully inspected the loads, checking to make sure everything was there, and nothing nasty had been hidden in them, before sending them on to the automatic loader.

So, outside the ship and monitoring the crowd, see was in a perfect position to see Justin as he walked up, grungy kid by his side. "You've gotta be kidding me," she muttered, pushing the clipboard into Tev's paws and moving to intercept.

She strode straight up to Justin, getting in his face. "Not just no, but hell no."

"Miss Valentine, good morning."

"For the last freaking time, it's Captain. And I'm not taking this…kid." She had almost said 'thing'.

The boy snorted. "Well, it's nice to meet you too. Such a pleasant person. I feel so welcome." He stood there, baggy pants, oversized tee-shirt, and a sweatshirt with enough holes in it that she could almost make out the pattern on the tee beneath it. A duffel bag hung off one shoulder. Week old bruises on his face, favoring one arm, and despite it all, cocky as hell. He couldn't be a day over seventeen.

She ignored him. "No way." She said to Justin again.

"Captain, Mr. Tosand wished me to give you is regards and to reassure you that despite appearances, he has sent you the finest mechanic in our stable. He also wished me to remind you that the contract, which does not specify a specific engineer, is already signed. "

She gave the boy another incredulous look.

Who just grinned back at her. "What, you think seeing *you* as my new captain just fills me with confidence?"

She sighed. "Can you fix things?"

"Fix 'em, fly 'em, make 'em dance."

She rubbed a hand over her face. "Fine. I guess I've got no choice. There are ship specs in the hold, as well as repair plans. You had better get started."

"Yes ma'am." He picked up his bag and started toward the ship.

Justin cleared his throat. "Your parts will arrive at mid-morning. I believe you'll be satisfied."

She glared at him. "Satisfied. Well, you're not off to a good start. Tell Tosand I'm not happy."

"I'll pass on the message," he actually seemed to be sneering. "The money…?"

"You'll get it when I get my parts." As well as once she'd had a chance to make sure the boy could work a screwdriver.

Justin nodded. He had probably been expecting that answer. He turned back to his vehicle. "Good trip, captain."

"Thanks," she said dryly. She had the feeling it was going to be a long one.

~~*~~