Beka grinned as she stuck her fist in between the waistband of her trousers and her midriff. She'd definitely shrunk since she bought them. Ok, so she had to work a lot for it, but so what?
"Nothing worth doing is easy," she reminded herself. Suddenly, an alarm went off and she jumped in shock. "Oh sht," she cried as she ran into the kitchen, frantically searching for an oven glove or even just a tea towel. She pulled the muffins out of the oven and blew on them. They seemed fine.
She turned around and bit her lip. Maybe she'd overdone it a bit. The ingredients she'd acquired had nearly ran out, but she found baking very stimulating. Not a hobby she'd had before, but there was nothing wrong with something new, as long as she took care to wash her hands properly, so the mixture wouldn't go in her mouth. She'd vowed that nothing apart from a little water would go in there. But what was she meant to do with all these muffins?
Dylan walked into his quarters, stretching and yawning. It had been a long, straining day, and all he wanted was to have a hot shower and go to bed. As he walked towards the bathroom, he spotted a large box sitting on the table and frowned. He hadn't seen that before. He opened it and found quite a large quantity of blueberry muffins, with a small flexi on top. He lifted it up and started reading.
- Dylan.
I know I've been a bit distant lately, and a bit of a crappy first officer. I'm sorry I've let you down, and I promise to try harder in the future.
-Beka
He raised an eyebrow as he lifted a muffin up and absent-mindedly started nibbling on one. His thoughts started wandering, and turned to Beka. She had seemed awfully tired lately, not paying attention to her work, yet he'd often meet her working out in the gym. She also looked more and more hollow everyday, and sick. As he finished the muffin he sighed. What could be wrong with her? As it was now, she looked like a ghost, as if she couldn't do anything. Dylan was afraid to even touch her, in case she broke.
He got up and glanced at the box again. Did this…gift, mean that things would change again? He hoped so, but he doubted it. It was the wording of the note. A bit of a crappy first officer. It wasn't very Beka. She might have been distant, and tired, but not a crappy first officer. He wouldn't call her that. He'd never call her that. And the Beka he knew would never call herself that. He sighed. What to do? What…to do?
Andromeda's hologram popped up in front of Rommie, startling her.
"There has been a box left for us, um, you in the obs deck." Rommie raised an eyebrow. A box? For her? Who could that be from? Maybe it was from Dylan? No, he wouldn't. Harper? No, he'd stopped hitting on her lately. When she thought harder about it, it had been a very long time since he'd hit on her, or even ogled her. She shrugged. Not that it bothered her. But who could the box be from?
She reached the obs deck and immediately saw the box. It was right in the middle of the floor, a large metal box. She went up to open it, and frowned at it's contents. Banana muffins, unless her database was fooling her. Who'd give her banana muffins? She couldn't eat. She saw a little flexi laying on top of one of the muffins, and picked it up.
- Rommie
Yes, I know you can't eat, but even an avatar deserves a treat. Do what you like with them. Keep them or throw them away. I'm sorry for not being the first officer I wish I could be for you. I'm sorry for letting you down.
-Beka
Rommie frowned. As far as she knew, Beka hadn't let her down. Well, she had been a little off lately, not quite the alert pilot and first officer she'd come to know. But from years of working with humans, Rommie had learnt they weren't like AI's. They had their bad days, and they had their good days. Humans were also very…fragile. She picked one of the muffins up and squeezed it, feeling it crumble in her hand. Just like humans. She watched the crumbles falling onto her knee, and a brief thought hit her.
"Is Beka crumbling?"
Tyr nearly sat down on the little box, but stopped himself at the last minute. He frowned. A box, in the gym? Who would put a large metal box in the gym? He studied it carefully, but couldn't see anything special about it. It had no inscriptions, no apparent locks. He shrugged and opened it, surprised at what he found. A bunch of plain muffins, with a small flexi on top of them. He briefly wondered who they were for, and who put them there, until he read the message.
- Tyr
I figured you wouldn't eat the muffins I gave you, that's why I didn't bother putting any flavouring in them. You know, I might be trying to poison you or something. I don't know how your Nietzchean mind works. But I hope you can eat them, I'm sure the saturated fat won't dare to stick on your body. I'm sorry for being "just a kludge." I'm sorry for not living up to your expectations.
- Beka
Tyr gave a small laugh as he shook his head, reading the message. She really was full of surprises. He studied the muffin closely, then figured it wouldn't hurt and popped it in his mouth. He was disappointed that she'd got him wrong. He didn't see her as "just a kludge." She'd always been more Nietzchean than most humans he met, though he deeply regretted her sudden change. Modesty to the point of self-hatred was not a trait he'd known her to have. He knew what she saw in the mirror, though he wasn't sure what she was doing. He knew she was sick. Anyone could see it. Only…he wasn't quite sure why. Or what to do about it.
As Trance entered hydroponics, she immediately noticed something was wrong. A pink box was sitting in the middle of all her flowers, destroying the beautiful balance. She took it off and looked at it. No one onboard the ship would be having a pink box around, apart from her, that was.
"It must be for me," she thought cheerfully, opening it. A lovely smell hit her and she smiled as she saw a sea of pink raspberry muffins. "Yum!" she cried, then spotted a little flexi that had fallen down the side of the box. She picked it up and started reading while tucking into the muffins.
- Trance
I figured you might like these. I'm sorry I haven't been such a good friend lately. Hopefully that will all change soon, but in the mean time, I just wanted you to know I appreciate everything you've done for me. I'm sorry, I really am.
- Beka
Trance frowned. Why was she sorry for? All she'd felt lately was concern for her friend. She knew something was terribly wrong, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Beka had seemed very, very sick lately and for each day that went by, the possibilities of her perfect possible future grew slimmer. If only she could manage to get Beka into medical for a check-up, but that was impossible. She didn't really have a reason to get Dylan to order it either.
"What is wrong with you Beka?" she mumbled as she picked up another muffin.
Harper was looking through his toolboxes when he found one box he hadn't seen before. It was a see-through glass box with chocolate muffins, his favourite, and what seemed to be a little note. He opened it carefully and pulled the note out.
- Harper
I knew these were your favourite, so I saved them for you. I'm so sorry for what happened, I really am. But you should know, you don't need to do stuff like that to make me feel better. I know you only meant well, but you really don't have to pretend. I'm so sorry for being awful to you. I'm really, really sorry. I really care about you.
- Beka
The note was handwritten in Beka's scribbly style, something Harper rarely received. It looked like Beka had intended to write something else instead of "I really care about you," because something had been scribbled out. He squinted his eyes, but it was too well scribbled to see. He took a bite out of one of the muffins. It was wonderful, but he couldn't quite enjoy it.
You don't need to do stuff like that to make me feel better. What did that mean? That she thought he kissed her to make her feel better? For pity? She couldn't possibly…he'd always been the one who needed pity when it came to love. Beka? Everyone wanted her! She always found someone to pick up, and he was the one walking home alone. But still, what else could she mean? The chocolate turned bitter in his mouth as he furiously tried to wipe a tear off his cheek.
"Beka, what's happening to you?" he mumbled to himself. There really was something wrong with her. The last two weeks they hadn't been talking at all, but he'd seen her, and for every day that went past, she looked sicker and sicker. He just didn't know what to do. Was it just him? He threw the muffins on the floor, and they scattered all over the place, crumbles flying. He frowned as he saw little blobs of flour in the muffin, not properly mixed. The auto chef would never make that mistake. His eyes widened and teared up as he quickly collected all the muffins and gently put them back in their box. She hadn't used the auto chef. She'd made them herself, just for him. She'd got the ingredients and mixed them together, put them in the oven, done all that work just because she knew he loved them.
"Oh Beka," he whispered, "I love you. Why can't you see that?"
