like_jonah_from_the_whale5

Like Jonah From The Whale
by Xenutia



Disclaimer: See parts 1-4. They're not mine.
Rating: PG-13. I'm still not sure how US ratings work. Where I am (the UK) it would be a 15, which feels about right to me, if just for the surgery' scene, and a little bit later on.
Summary: I promised some Harper/Beka interaction - you know, the type where Harper actually says something - this time, and that's just what this is.
Spoilers: There are nods to some episodes in some chapters, mostly Fear & Loathing In The Milky Way', but not really spoilers. They just relate to background information on the characters a little bit.

*** 5 ***


Beka placed her fork on the empty plate and sat back with a sigh. After months eking out their reserve cash until such a time as Stamp paid, the food served up by Eric, and cooked by he himself, was a dream. Rich, copious, and, she suspected, expensive - whatever else she could say about Eric Guldavian, he was an excellent host. A bottle of fine red Mimian wine stood half-drained between them on the elaborately set table, leaving a faint ringed stain ground into the white linen of the tablecloth, a bloated, swooning purplish colour.

Stuffed, her stomach pushing insistently at the waistband of her pants, Beka rested back in her chair, and was suddenly aware of Eric's probing grey gaze settling on her. More than settling; they drilled her mercilessly.

Glad you liked it, he pre-empted her.

Believe me, Eric, you have no idea. After three months of counting pennies it's...it's quite the feast.

Eric once more dredged up that winsome smile, one which, to Beka, was beginning to take on a sycophantic quality through overuse. he said, pleasantly. It's not everyday I have a guest in here. And if it doesn't sound too forward of me, any guests I did have would definitely not be so pretty.

Leave it, Guldavian. This fish isn't biting, she said with a smirk.

Eric stood with a musical, distant laugh, and collected their plates from the table. I thought it was worth a try, he chuckled. After all...what happened once can always happen again.

Beka froze at the comment, uncertain how to take it. Without turning to follow him to the kitchenette at the back of the room, she replied, through dry, senseless lips: Not this time, Eric. We broke up for a reason, remember?

I do. The reason, if I recall, was your daddy. He didn't like me and that was always good enough for you, wasn't it, Beka? You always were daddy's little girl.

You don't know what you're talking about, Eric.

Don't I?

The conversation seemed closed, and left on no happy note, but Beka wasn't about to re-open it again for the sake of defending things long gone. Eric was not the kind of guy who lost arguments easily, and slipped so rarely it was a discouragement to anyone that even considered trying. They picked up the threads of their dinner discussions, talking idly of their latest work, and their respective crew. Beka respected Rev's reticence, in some ways, and understood it would be foolish to reveal too much to Eric about him, but she told him enough; enough, hopefully, to make Eric understand that she wasn't the same woman anymore. And talking about Rev, thinking about his wise advice and calming influence, had a pacifying effect on her.

So, Eric, she asked, when he had told her extensively of his five crew members and their place aboard ship. Since when did you start hiring kids? And ones that look like they're on death's door, to cap it all. She folded her napkin idly as she spoke, a casual gesture designed to disguise what she feared, secretly, might be a less-than-casual enquiry. Just what it was about the hired engineer that didn't feel right, she didn't know; but she could sense something, something in Eric's reluctance to speak about him, and the obvious malnutrition and ill-health of the kid. It doesn't seem like you. Or has the great Guldavian gone soft in his old age?

Eric kept his face admirably calm, demure even, but it was not quite enough to fool Beka. There had been surprise at seeing the boy there earlier; now, there was surprise that she should ask about him.

Hired help is a little hard to come by on Fresia Galla, Beka, he replied, cagily. You of all people should know that.

I do. But he's just so...ill-looking. That bandage under his ear...

An accident, Eric assured her. Nothing to concern yourself about. He's not contagious.

That's not what I meant.

He's just a kid working for one of the refitters, Beka. You see thousands of em trying to make a living that way on these stations.

Beka let it go, unsatisfied by his answer, but knowing she would get no more from him. She might be over-reacting, probably was over-reacting, but even so...well, Valentines were paranoid and suspicious by nature. They were hard to fool. She knew there was a story there, one which would brook no telling from Eric; he had been forthcoming, even proud, of his regular crew, telling her details she would rather not have known, regaling her with stories of their recent cargo runs and each man's part in it...yet now, his lips were sealed. All she could conclude, and what she must conclude, was that it was a story he didn't want her to hear.

Beka stood, with difficulty, and wandered into the kitchenette to help him clear away. They were replacing plates in a safety-locked storage cabinet when one of his men knocked awkwardly on the door.

the man said, in a low voice intended to block her from the discussion. Eric signalled with his fingers that he would be two minutes, and stepped outside with the crew man, leaving Beka alone in his quarters.

Beka waited for the promised two minutes, and longer, but Eric didn't come back. Bored, Beka ferreted in the lockers and shelves forming his kitchenette, and came up with a golden find; real coffee. Smiling at Eric's stupidity in leaving her unattended with his coffee stash, Beka located his coffee maker, and set it brewing with relish. That would teach him to walk off and leave his guest.

She was pouring a cup when the notion that she was alone, unwatched, melted into her mind, settling there like a sleeping shark at the bottom of an ocean, waiting to attack. She had been going about this all wrong. She shouldn't be questioning Eric; she should be questioning the kid himself. And what better excuse, she concluded, than bringing a working man a cup of coffee.

***


She made another cup, and eased Eric's door open a crack, one eye peeking warily into the gloomy corridor beyond. It was empty, and the only sound was the patient hum of the engines underfoot. No voices, not even the faintest sign. Satisfied it was clear, Beka slipped out, a coffee cup in each hand, and snuck away towards where she remembered the main engine rooms were located. She would have to work her way around, room by room, until she found him. If he was even still onboard, she reminded herself, not at all certain he would be.

She tensed as she neared the open archway leading into the aft cabins, where the engines were, hearing sounds of metal against metal, perhaps a wrench, and soft muttering. She peered around the door frame, keeping herself pressed flush to the wall and in the shadows, and saw the boy, kneeling beside an open panel, tangled wiring spewing out from the casing like intestines. He was trimming some wires, stripping others, twisting the occasional naked, live ends together. They sparked in a blue flare as he did so, and Beka wondered, not so briefly, if he was insane, working amongst live power lines like that.

she announced.

He jumped, visibly, the action planting another seed of doubt in Beka's already brimming mind - it had been a reaction of fear, clear and simple. Nothing any of them said could hide that.

he replied, cautiously, and flashed her a smile that was bright, amiable, somehow hideously out of place against his thin frame and grey, lifeless skin. Dark, tired blooms bruised all around his eyes, and although the smile was cheerful, it was forced, weary. Beka felt her heart thudding painfully in her chest and her full stomach cramp at the sight, convinced beyond a doubt that she was doing the right thing by talking to him.

Whatcha doing there? she asked. Oh, and I brought you coffee. I know how it gets working long hours on these things. She extended a cup to him, and he looked up, that same surprise she was beginning to see too often around here lighting up his strained blue eyes like fires. For a second, just a second, she saw honest gratitude there, burning too brightly too ignore.

he said, and accepted it carefully, setting it down on the deck beside him. That captain guy's not exactly host of the century, ya know what I mean?

Beka didn't reply, comparing what he had just said to her own experience - that Guldavian could be the perfect host, if he wished. And she picked up the joking quality in the kid's voice, relieved he seemed to have already identified her as safe to talk to. That was good.

He can be that way. You gotta ignore him, guy's got an attitude problem when it suits him, she confided. Hoping that, by being honest herself, she could coax more from him that she had from Eric.

Hey, you won't get any argument from me, lady, he agreed, his voice still bright, chipper, an uncomfortable contrast to his physical state. He looked ill, but still, it seemed, was trying to be friendly. It wasn't a quality she ran into often these days.

she corrected. And you're Seamus, right?

Kinda. I never really liked Seamus so much. People just generally call me Harper. Or genius. Or even God, if they want. He ruminated a moment. 'Course the ladies, they got other names for me too. Ya know. And he winked.

She nodded, and crouched down beside him. Okay. Harper. You gonna drink that?

He smiled with a soft exhalation, this one sadder, less exuberant. Perhaps, she mused, more real. Okay, Mom, he joked, and took a mouthful. Man, this is good coffee. They know you're handing this around?

Technically? No. But I can handle Eric.

Glad to hear it.

She watched, stumped for a word to say, as he turned back to his work. He saved her the dilemma and spoke up himself, surprising her for the umpteenth time that day.

So...you're not one of the crew, I know that, he said, affably. I saw you come onboard, and you sure as hell weren't around when...

He stopped, realising what he had just said.

Beka wasn't about to let it go. When what? When we got here? Was he going to say that?

When, uh...when I got this job. You know. When I turned up this morning.

How do you know I wasn't just off on business somewhere on the station this morning? The only way you would know I wasn't part of this crew was if you were on this ship before it landed.

He faltered, carefully keeping his eyes on his work. Where they couldn't betray him.

What are you really doing on the Magnus, Harper?

Eric's voice, calling her.

She glanced at the dumbfounded boy, realising her time was up, just when things were getting interesting.

Listen, Harper, I gotta go. My ship's called the Eureka Maru. If you get a break, you come and see me, and we can finish this little talk, okay?

He said nothing.

she tried again.

Eric was calling her again, his voice coming closer, and, cursing, Beka took her coffee, and ran out to meet him. Before he could see just who she was talking to, and ask questions she didn't want to answer.

***

Rev was waiting for her when she got back to the Maru. He was, as always, unruffled and tranquil, his hands folded and his head dipping in greeting as she stepped from the airlock, but Beka's wind was immediately up, her already paranoid mind turning his meeting her at the door into a sign of an emergency. She was not disappointed.

Rev. What's up?

Your friend, Guldavian, I believe, he replied. It appears he is not being quite so honest with us as we assumed.

I knew it! she exclaimed, thumping her fist into the wall abruptly. What is it this time?

I checked the intercept we received. It seems the signal originated from the Magnus. Mr.Guldavian was the one who downloaded our blueprints. To make matters worse, Stamp has sent another message. He and his customer are getting impatient.

Let him, Beka growled. But where would Eric hide blueprints? It's too easy for a ship's computer to be scanned, he wouldn't be so stupid.

Rev interjected, he has not hidden them in his computer system. The expression, I believe, is: There is more than one way to skin a cat.'

The realisation hit Beka like a shot from a rifle, perfectly formed, simple, clear. So simple and clear, in fact, it had passed her by completely, till now.

The kid, she murmured. God, Rev, they were in the kid. Harper.

Rev waited patiently for an explanation. When none appeared forthcoming, he asked: Which Harper is this, Beka? One of his crew?

I...I don't know. He didn't look like he belonged there, and he sure as hell didn't act like it. Mentally, she ammended He was too nice...but shook it away. No time for personal impressions of him to get in the way right now. There was a bandage on his neck. Bloody, like it was a new wound. Eric's fitted the kid with a port, I'd put money on it. That's what he was doing on the ship.

If what you say is true, that makes this Harper' a data smuggler.

No. I don't think it was his choice. I think he was kidnapped to carry the prints. Beka grabbed her weapon holster from its place beside the airlock, already moving to open it.

We gotta go get him, Rev. That kid's in trouble. And he's got our blueprints.

Rev halted her with a gentle, furry hand on her bare shoulder. Beka...I regret to have to tell you this, but...the Magnus left dock the moment you disembarked. They're gone.

To Be Continued...

***

Author's Note: I hope I've gotten the dialogue fairly close to the character's real speech patterns. It's very hard to judge for yourself. If anybody finds anything they don't think a character would have said, let me know, yeah?