Disclaimer: All Andromeda stories, characters, and situations are
copyrights of Tribune Entertainment. It is illegal and immoral to use
someone else's licensed property for personal gain. No profit is being made
in any way. This story is fan fiction and just for my own amusement.
There was something vaguely familiar about this corridor. The large door at the end of the hall strangely resembled a main entry airlock I'd seen in science fiction fantasies. What was this place?
I knew I'd seen these white oval lights and octagonal walls someplace before. As I rounded the corner, a wall of windows opened out into the darkness of deep, star-sprinkled space.
"The observation deck" I whispered to myself, "of the Andromeda Ascendant!" What was happening to me? I squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath.
When I opened my eyes I noticed an IV needle taped to my right hand with a long plastic tube leading up to a bag of clear fluid suspended at eye level and dangling from a pole. I was pushing it, wheels slightly squeaking, down a long hallway. Hospital smells.
A young male nurse dressed in pale green scrubs supported me by the elbow. His twinkling eyes were friendly and I wondered when his spiky blond hair had last seen a comb.
I tried to smile back, but my mouth didn't work quite right anymore. A swell of dizziness washed over me with an onslaught of painful memories. I gripped my wheeled pole. The plane crash. Screaming engines. Impenetrable smoke.
"Hey, hey! Easy there, noodle knees." The nurse caught me just before I crumpled to the floor. "Back up you go."
He guided me to a sea green chair in the visitor's lounge, lifted my wrist, and began taking my pulse, eyeing me suspiciously.
"You just sit back and relax, you're not walking those doggies any more today. It's time to ride, Clyde, in other words, off your feet, no jogging, no dancing, no iron man -- or shall we say woman -- marathons."
He chattered on without taking a breath. "You are hereby and hitherto banned from standing up on your own two feet. Got that? Clear as mud?"
I wondered if he was a bit over-caffeinated. Mud. My brain felt clogged with it. This guy remind me of somebody.
My nurse glanced around the room, apparently looking for something, then stepped out into the empty hallway. "Where's a wheelychair when you need one?" his voice echoed down the corridor.
He returned quickly and began to east me up off the chair. "I think your medication's wearing off, Babe, let's get you down to med deck."
I choked in mid stance, "Did you just say med deck?" then my world went black.
The fog lifted slowly from my throbbing head and I lay in quasi- consciousness between sleep and wakefulness. Recollections of waking in a hospital bed, bandaged, bruised, and heavily sedated, rolled over and over in my mind. How many days had passed since the crash? My mind was a confusion of flashbacks of the plane crash, hospital incidents, and scenes from a science fiction series.
There was a light beyond the thin membranes of my closed eyelids. It grew brighter, but the effort to even open my eyes seemed to much to ask. My body felt heavy, tired, and I sank deeply into the cushion on which I lay flat my back. It felt like a waterbed.
"How is she?"
Suddenly I was energized, yet paralyzed with alarm. That pleasant baritone voice sounded exactly like Dylan Hunt. I peeked timidly between my eyelashes, afraid that what I might see would prove me totally bonkers.
I cautiously squinted up at the guy with 'the voice' and saw that I was on a raised examining table. He leaned over as if to study me more closely, but the light above him prevented me from seeing his face. I tried to relax and hoped he didn't notice my checking him out.
"She'll be fine," said a sweet voice behind me. "She's in shock, but I can take care of that easily enough." Small fingers began gently massaging my temples and a warm, enjoyable sensation washed over me.
"Otherwise" she continued, "there are a few contusions to the head. Nothing serious, though."
"When do you think she'll regain consciousness?"
Oh, geez, he really did sound just like that hunk on the TV show. Was this my new doctor? I tried to peek with just one eye.
"Actually she's conscious now," replied the young woman. "I think she's just frightened."
I stiffened. I heard the man chuckle and then felt a warm hand on my arm.
"Don't worry, you're safe here on the Andromeda Ascendant."
I bolted upright, eyes wide open. The golden girl gasped. I gasped. It really was Dylan and Trance and they were staring at me! I really must be totally off my rocker.
Dylan grasped my shoulders and gently pressed me back down onto the table. He was so close I could see the golden flecks in his blue eyes. His touch felt so real. Can you smell cologne in your dreams?
He straightened up and continued watching me for a moment. I took a deep breath trying, but not succeeding, to relax.
"Your Highness," he touched my arm reassuringly, "I'm Captain Dylan Hunt and this is my, medical officer, Trance Gemini. Can you tell us what happened to you?"
Your Highness? That was so rich I almost laughed. In fact, I did kind of snort. "Um," I stammered, wondering where this dream was going, "am I Princess Leia?"
Dylan's jaw dropped slightly and his gaze moved from my face to Trance.
"I told you she's in shock. Let me try again."
Trance placed her fingertips on my forehead again, gliding down to my temples and back up again. The waves of warmth vibrated in my head. The sensation was so extraordinary that I was finding it hard to believe all this was only some chemically-induced hallucination.
"Do you remember anything?" Dylan's sincerity flattered me. He seemed genuinely concerned, complete with a deep furrow in his brow. I took it as a sign that, one, there were no magog in the immediate vicinity to worry about and, two, his attentiveness would certainly be very good for my convalescence.
"The crash," my voice cracked, "then I blacked out, and I woke up here."
Dylan patted my hand and told Trance to do whatever she thought would help. He flashed a rather hapless smile at me, then turned to go.
I watched him stride out the door, appreciating the fit of his clothing over solid muscle. Then I studied a wall of the med deck, half expecting the little purple flashing lights to turn back into lukewarm hospital décor.
Trance waved something like a beeping palm pilot over me from head to toe. Hmm, nice sandals, I noticed on my own feet, and painted toenails. I don't usually bother. How did I get into these silk pants and short leather tunic?
Anyway, Trance declared me fit, and led me to my 'quarters', a short walk down the octagon hall. She was very cordial and fortunately didn't ask me any questions more probing than how was I feeling. I assured her that I just needed rest, so she opened my door for me and left me alone.
My rooms were small but pleasant, decorated in soothing lavenders and greens with fluffy air plants here and there. I dropped into an overstuffed chair which seemed to wrap itself around me. I was pleasantly surprised when it began to softly hum. I tucked up my legs and settled in for a nap.
A gentle, persistent tapping at my door woke me from a deep, dreamless sleep. Reluctantly, I uncurled from my humming chair. My joints were no longer stiff and sore as they had been since the crash and my headache was completely gone. I was shocked, however, at the sight of my own reflection in the mirrored door.
The face staring back at me was not like myself. This woman had pale green eyes and a cloud of dark, long, curly hair, and wore a tear-drop diamond in her forehead. I touched it and she did likewise. The stone felt smooth and warm from my own body heat.
I chuckled, staring at my new self in the mirror. I was positively giddy. I have to find out what kind of drugs their giving me in this hospital. I giggled and twirled and I stumbled against the door, accidentally pressing a large yellow button.
Immediately the mirrored door turned into what was apparently a one-way window and I could see Dylan standing outside. He glanced at his wrist and then rang the doorbell, and I realized this wasn't the first time I'd heard it. How long had he been there?
Fortunately, he didn't seem aware of my hysterics and I was grateful for the soundproofing. I took a deep breath and quickly regained my composure, smoothing down my hair and clothing. The tapping began again, more insistently.
Frustrated by the assortment of buttons and switches near the door, I pressed and flipped until it finally slid open, and closed, and opened again. So much for a graceful greeting.
"Hi! Sorry, about that. Doors are simpler where I come from." And where exactly was I prepared to say I came from?
Dylan smiled. "Good evening, Duchess."
Duchess. I loved it. Almost as much as I loved being this close to Dylan Hunt and knowing I looked like a million bucks. I certainly hoped he thought so, too.
"You look well rested." His eyes scanned me, and I felt a blush rise. "Is there anything you need to make you more comfortable?"
"A hot bubble bath would do nicely."
He frowned as I realized regretfully that there might be no such things in this day and age. To restore my royal dignity, and change the subject, I quickly thrust out my hand for him to kiss.
He grinned and then pressed his soft, warm lips against my skin. Okay, this could be fun.
"My crew is anxious to talk with you and I don't think I can hold them off much longer. I'd be pleased if you'd join us for dinner.
"Well, I. " uh oh, think fast. "I am feeling better, Captain, but I don't remember much to tell." At the thought of food, I realized I was starving and my stomach growled loudly.
Dylan smiled self-assuredly and extended his arm. There was no way I could get out of this.
"I'll try to keep them from grilling you too badly. And please, call me Dylan."
Charmed but nervous, I acquiesced, half expecting my delusion to suddenly disappear. Instead I found Dylan real and solid and more than pleasant to hold onto. He entertained me all the way to the officer's mess.
Two hours later we were well into our cups. Well, some of us. Throughout dinner and several bottles of Tantenias brandy, I was able to maintain my ruse of having amnesia, which actually wasn't difficult since I knew nothing about the world "Duchess Daveren of Bengili" supposedly came from.
Apparently, the glyphs on my crashed transport pod had revealed my identity, though some of the lettering had been bent, burned, and nearly indecipherable.
Rommie showed us a short hologram documentary of my planet, Gilbraja II, however, no one could quite figure out what I was doing in a support module this far from my home. Trance deduced that I was kidnapped by slaver raiders who were known to plunder the area, but somehow I had escaped. That was good enough for me and nobody else could think of anything more plausible.
Having been blessed with a fairly high tolerance for alcohol, I was able to keep my wits about me while others lost theirs. Except for Tyr. Once he was convinced that I represented no threat, he had one glass, but then excused himself to do his evening workout.
Dylan looked relaxed, very relaxed, and I caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn't looking. Rommie appeared to be glad she wasn't subject to human indulgences. Beka was a riot, telling embarrassing stories about the crew. Trance was quiet, occasionally erupting into giggles, and Harper entertained us with Irish songs and flirted until he passed out, literally under the table.
I excused myself to the bathroom and, while there, decided to sneak back to my quarters, expecting my absence wouldn't be noticed. I was almost to my door, having gotten lost a couple of times before finally finding it, when I heard footsteps rapidly approaching from behind. I turned around to find Dylan smiling down at me.
"Let me do that." He reached around my shoulder, completely invading my personal space, which I rather enjoyed, and placed his hand flat against the recognition portal screen on my door. "I don't think Harper has programmed it for you yet." The door slid open with a whooshing sound.
"Well, it's a good thing you followed me, then, isn't it?" I smiled. How coy was that?
He was close enough for me to enjoy a whiff of his cologne and a hint of Tantenias, bringing to mind moonlit nights and unrequited love.
"Weren't you going to say goodnight?" His eyes twinkled, "Or is that what Duchesses do on Gilbraja II?"
My back was against the wall near my door, and he remained extremely close, which I found not unpleasant.
"I didn't think anyone would notice my leaving."
"I noticed," Dylan said softly. He stroked my hair and then silk fabric at my shoulder.
Then he looked abashed. He blinked and backed up a step. Dylan cleared his throat nervously and then stared at his boots for a moment. I believe the man was genuinely embarrassed.
He motioned awkwardly at my clothing. "I'm sorry. I forgot about getting you something else to wear."
"Oh." Brilliant response. I couldn't think, didn't want to. I just stared at him in fascination. Dylan Hunt in three dimensions, real, warm, solid, breathing. No longer on a flat screen in Technicolor.
The memory of his tender lips on the back of my hand made me shiver. Too late, I realized I was staring at his mouth, which was apparently all the invitation he needed. Slowly, Dylan leaned down and gently pressed his lips on mine, sweet, succulent, and over much too soon.
He backed away and shook his head as if to clear it. "That was a mistake. I. I didn't mean for that to happen. If you'll forgive me, Duchess. uh, rest well." He turned to go.
"Dylan, wait." I grabbed his arm. "Please."
He stopped, but didn't turn around. I could feel the tension through his sleeve.
I wasn't sure what to do. I only knew I didn't want to let him go.
"I think I'm remembering something," I stalled.
He swiftly turned, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me like I was the first woman he'd seen after a 300-year sabbatical. My knees nearly buckled beneath me, my head began to spin with pure delight, and I have never, ever been so thoroughly kissed.
There was something vaguely familiar about this corridor. The large door at the end of the hall strangely resembled a main entry airlock I'd seen in science fiction fantasies. What was this place?
I knew I'd seen these white oval lights and octagonal walls someplace before. As I rounded the corner, a wall of windows opened out into the darkness of deep, star-sprinkled space.
"The observation deck" I whispered to myself, "of the Andromeda Ascendant!" What was happening to me? I squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath.
When I opened my eyes I noticed an IV needle taped to my right hand with a long plastic tube leading up to a bag of clear fluid suspended at eye level and dangling from a pole. I was pushing it, wheels slightly squeaking, down a long hallway. Hospital smells.
A young male nurse dressed in pale green scrubs supported me by the elbow. His twinkling eyes were friendly and I wondered when his spiky blond hair had last seen a comb.
I tried to smile back, but my mouth didn't work quite right anymore. A swell of dizziness washed over me with an onslaught of painful memories. I gripped my wheeled pole. The plane crash. Screaming engines. Impenetrable smoke.
"Hey, hey! Easy there, noodle knees." The nurse caught me just before I crumpled to the floor. "Back up you go."
He guided me to a sea green chair in the visitor's lounge, lifted my wrist, and began taking my pulse, eyeing me suspiciously.
"You just sit back and relax, you're not walking those doggies any more today. It's time to ride, Clyde, in other words, off your feet, no jogging, no dancing, no iron man -- or shall we say woman -- marathons."
He chattered on without taking a breath. "You are hereby and hitherto banned from standing up on your own two feet. Got that? Clear as mud?"
I wondered if he was a bit over-caffeinated. Mud. My brain felt clogged with it. This guy remind me of somebody.
My nurse glanced around the room, apparently looking for something, then stepped out into the empty hallway. "Where's a wheelychair when you need one?" his voice echoed down the corridor.
He returned quickly and began to east me up off the chair. "I think your medication's wearing off, Babe, let's get you down to med deck."
I choked in mid stance, "Did you just say med deck?" then my world went black.
The fog lifted slowly from my throbbing head and I lay in quasi- consciousness between sleep and wakefulness. Recollections of waking in a hospital bed, bandaged, bruised, and heavily sedated, rolled over and over in my mind. How many days had passed since the crash? My mind was a confusion of flashbacks of the plane crash, hospital incidents, and scenes from a science fiction series.
There was a light beyond the thin membranes of my closed eyelids. It grew brighter, but the effort to even open my eyes seemed to much to ask. My body felt heavy, tired, and I sank deeply into the cushion on which I lay flat my back. It felt like a waterbed.
"How is she?"
Suddenly I was energized, yet paralyzed with alarm. That pleasant baritone voice sounded exactly like Dylan Hunt. I peeked timidly between my eyelashes, afraid that what I might see would prove me totally bonkers.
I cautiously squinted up at the guy with 'the voice' and saw that I was on a raised examining table. He leaned over as if to study me more closely, but the light above him prevented me from seeing his face. I tried to relax and hoped he didn't notice my checking him out.
"She'll be fine," said a sweet voice behind me. "She's in shock, but I can take care of that easily enough." Small fingers began gently massaging my temples and a warm, enjoyable sensation washed over me.
"Otherwise" she continued, "there are a few contusions to the head. Nothing serious, though."
"When do you think she'll regain consciousness?"
Oh, geez, he really did sound just like that hunk on the TV show. Was this my new doctor? I tried to peek with just one eye.
"Actually she's conscious now," replied the young woman. "I think she's just frightened."
I stiffened. I heard the man chuckle and then felt a warm hand on my arm.
"Don't worry, you're safe here on the Andromeda Ascendant."
I bolted upright, eyes wide open. The golden girl gasped. I gasped. It really was Dylan and Trance and they were staring at me! I really must be totally off my rocker.
Dylan grasped my shoulders and gently pressed me back down onto the table. He was so close I could see the golden flecks in his blue eyes. His touch felt so real. Can you smell cologne in your dreams?
He straightened up and continued watching me for a moment. I took a deep breath trying, but not succeeding, to relax.
"Your Highness," he touched my arm reassuringly, "I'm Captain Dylan Hunt and this is my, medical officer, Trance Gemini. Can you tell us what happened to you?"
Your Highness? That was so rich I almost laughed. In fact, I did kind of snort. "Um," I stammered, wondering where this dream was going, "am I Princess Leia?"
Dylan's jaw dropped slightly and his gaze moved from my face to Trance.
"I told you she's in shock. Let me try again."
Trance placed her fingertips on my forehead again, gliding down to my temples and back up again. The waves of warmth vibrated in my head. The sensation was so extraordinary that I was finding it hard to believe all this was only some chemically-induced hallucination.
"Do you remember anything?" Dylan's sincerity flattered me. He seemed genuinely concerned, complete with a deep furrow in his brow. I took it as a sign that, one, there were no magog in the immediate vicinity to worry about and, two, his attentiveness would certainly be very good for my convalescence.
"The crash," my voice cracked, "then I blacked out, and I woke up here."
Dylan patted my hand and told Trance to do whatever she thought would help. He flashed a rather hapless smile at me, then turned to go.
I watched him stride out the door, appreciating the fit of his clothing over solid muscle. Then I studied a wall of the med deck, half expecting the little purple flashing lights to turn back into lukewarm hospital décor.
Trance waved something like a beeping palm pilot over me from head to toe. Hmm, nice sandals, I noticed on my own feet, and painted toenails. I don't usually bother. How did I get into these silk pants and short leather tunic?
Anyway, Trance declared me fit, and led me to my 'quarters', a short walk down the octagon hall. She was very cordial and fortunately didn't ask me any questions more probing than how was I feeling. I assured her that I just needed rest, so she opened my door for me and left me alone.
My rooms were small but pleasant, decorated in soothing lavenders and greens with fluffy air plants here and there. I dropped into an overstuffed chair which seemed to wrap itself around me. I was pleasantly surprised when it began to softly hum. I tucked up my legs and settled in for a nap.
A gentle, persistent tapping at my door woke me from a deep, dreamless sleep. Reluctantly, I uncurled from my humming chair. My joints were no longer stiff and sore as they had been since the crash and my headache was completely gone. I was shocked, however, at the sight of my own reflection in the mirrored door.
The face staring back at me was not like myself. This woman had pale green eyes and a cloud of dark, long, curly hair, and wore a tear-drop diamond in her forehead. I touched it and she did likewise. The stone felt smooth and warm from my own body heat.
I chuckled, staring at my new self in the mirror. I was positively giddy. I have to find out what kind of drugs their giving me in this hospital. I giggled and twirled and I stumbled against the door, accidentally pressing a large yellow button.
Immediately the mirrored door turned into what was apparently a one-way window and I could see Dylan standing outside. He glanced at his wrist and then rang the doorbell, and I realized this wasn't the first time I'd heard it. How long had he been there?
Fortunately, he didn't seem aware of my hysterics and I was grateful for the soundproofing. I took a deep breath and quickly regained my composure, smoothing down my hair and clothing. The tapping began again, more insistently.
Frustrated by the assortment of buttons and switches near the door, I pressed and flipped until it finally slid open, and closed, and opened again. So much for a graceful greeting.
"Hi! Sorry, about that. Doors are simpler where I come from." And where exactly was I prepared to say I came from?
Dylan smiled. "Good evening, Duchess."
Duchess. I loved it. Almost as much as I loved being this close to Dylan Hunt and knowing I looked like a million bucks. I certainly hoped he thought so, too.
"You look well rested." His eyes scanned me, and I felt a blush rise. "Is there anything you need to make you more comfortable?"
"A hot bubble bath would do nicely."
He frowned as I realized regretfully that there might be no such things in this day and age. To restore my royal dignity, and change the subject, I quickly thrust out my hand for him to kiss.
He grinned and then pressed his soft, warm lips against my skin. Okay, this could be fun.
"My crew is anxious to talk with you and I don't think I can hold them off much longer. I'd be pleased if you'd join us for dinner.
"Well, I. " uh oh, think fast. "I am feeling better, Captain, but I don't remember much to tell." At the thought of food, I realized I was starving and my stomach growled loudly.
Dylan smiled self-assuredly and extended his arm. There was no way I could get out of this.
"I'll try to keep them from grilling you too badly. And please, call me Dylan."
Charmed but nervous, I acquiesced, half expecting my delusion to suddenly disappear. Instead I found Dylan real and solid and more than pleasant to hold onto. He entertained me all the way to the officer's mess.
Two hours later we were well into our cups. Well, some of us. Throughout dinner and several bottles of Tantenias brandy, I was able to maintain my ruse of having amnesia, which actually wasn't difficult since I knew nothing about the world "Duchess Daveren of Bengili" supposedly came from.
Apparently, the glyphs on my crashed transport pod had revealed my identity, though some of the lettering had been bent, burned, and nearly indecipherable.
Rommie showed us a short hologram documentary of my planet, Gilbraja II, however, no one could quite figure out what I was doing in a support module this far from my home. Trance deduced that I was kidnapped by slaver raiders who were known to plunder the area, but somehow I had escaped. That was good enough for me and nobody else could think of anything more plausible.
Having been blessed with a fairly high tolerance for alcohol, I was able to keep my wits about me while others lost theirs. Except for Tyr. Once he was convinced that I represented no threat, he had one glass, but then excused himself to do his evening workout.
Dylan looked relaxed, very relaxed, and I caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn't looking. Rommie appeared to be glad she wasn't subject to human indulgences. Beka was a riot, telling embarrassing stories about the crew. Trance was quiet, occasionally erupting into giggles, and Harper entertained us with Irish songs and flirted until he passed out, literally under the table.
I excused myself to the bathroom and, while there, decided to sneak back to my quarters, expecting my absence wouldn't be noticed. I was almost to my door, having gotten lost a couple of times before finally finding it, when I heard footsteps rapidly approaching from behind. I turned around to find Dylan smiling down at me.
"Let me do that." He reached around my shoulder, completely invading my personal space, which I rather enjoyed, and placed his hand flat against the recognition portal screen on my door. "I don't think Harper has programmed it for you yet." The door slid open with a whooshing sound.
"Well, it's a good thing you followed me, then, isn't it?" I smiled. How coy was that?
He was close enough for me to enjoy a whiff of his cologne and a hint of Tantenias, bringing to mind moonlit nights and unrequited love.
"Weren't you going to say goodnight?" His eyes twinkled, "Or is that what Duchesses do on Gilbraja II?"
My back was against the wall near my door, and he remained extremely close, which I found not unpleasant.
"I didn't think anyone would notice my leaving."
"I noticed," Dylan said softly. He stroked my hair and then silk fabric at my shoulder.
Then he looked abashed. He blinked and backed up a step. Dylan cleared his throat nervously and then stared at his boots for a moment. I believe the man was genuinely embarrassed.
He motioned awkwardly at my clothing. "I'm sorry. I forgot about getting you something else to wear."
"Oh." Brilliant response. I couldn't think, didn't want to. I just stared at him in fascination. Dylan Hunt in three dimensions, real, warm, solid, breathing. No longer on a flat screen in Technicolor.
The memory of his tender lips on the back of my hand made me shiver. Too late, I realized I was staring at his mouth, which was apparently all the invitation he needed. Slowly, Dylan leaned down and gently pressed his lips on mine, sweet, succulent, and over much too soon.
He backed away and shook his head as if to clear it. "That was a mistake. I. I didn't mean for that to happen. If you'll forgive me, Duchess. uh, rest well." He turned to go.
"Dylan, wait." I grabbed his arm. "Please."
He stopped, but didn't turn around. I could feel the tension through his sleeve.
I wasn't sure what to do. I only knew I didn't want to let him go.
"I think I'm remembering something," I stalled.
He swiftly turned, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me like I was the first woman he'd seen after a 300-year sabbatical. My knees nearly buckled beneath me, my head began to spin with pure delight, and I have never, ever been so thoroughly kissed.