Chapter Twelve: Trial

Harper came to with that singed smell still in his nostrils. He opened his eyes and looked around. No more machines, he was back in Pitch's flat, lying on the sofa. The light in the room was blueish and faint, it must be early morning or late evening. How long had he been unconscious?

"Welcome back to the living."

Harper jumped and looked around. He hadn't seen Pitch sitting in the chair on the other side of the table, it was dark in that corner.

"Oh thanks, it's great to be back. What happened?"

"The security protection on one of the channellers got you. Electric shock. Luckilly, it's not set to kill, only to stun you until the guards come around and nick you. Didn't feel like waiting for them."

"You brought me down here?"

"Of course I did. Had the nurse check you out as well, she says you'll be fine."

"And the machine? Is it still working? Have you got the tracker?"

"Listen, you should be happy you're still working, never mind the machine. Which is bolloxed by the way. You'll have to think of something else."

Harper dropped his head back onto the pillow and sighed. Why could nothing ever be easy? Why could there not just be a...

...knock at the door. Pitch got up and opened it, letting a streak of warm electric light in from the hallway outside. Harper didn't even bother turning around to see who it was. Then he heard a very familiar, very determined voice saying:

"Hi. Don't get any ideas, this is the only place it makes any sense for me to wait for my shipmates."

"Beka!"

Harper tried bouncing off the sofa, but found that his body was not yet fully cooperative. At least he managed to sit up. Beka's face lit up with a smile. She walked over and sat down beside him.

"Harper, I knew I'd find you here sooner or later. How did they let you in?"

"I met this guy... um... I'll tell you some other time, okay? I've looked at the machines upstairs, if we can just manage to get access to them again, it should be a piece of cake to get back. Now all we have to do is find Tyr..."
"I thought he was with you?"

"Well, he was... but I... I took off on my own. He just annoyed me so much with his sulky attitude! There's only so much you can take you know!"

Beka looked disappointed. And tired. Well, that wasn't his fault. Not really. If Tyr hadn't been such a...

...knock at the door. Pitch got up again, this time with a cautious frown on his face. Clearly, he wasn't expecting any more company. Beka and Harper both stared over at the door as it was opened a few centimetres. He heard a low voice from outside talking to Pitch:

"Hi."

"Milon. Since when did you bother to knock?"

"I dunno. Just seemed like the thing to do. You remember Tyr, don't you?"

Pitch didn't answer the question, just turned around and walked back into the room, switching on the lights on his way. The sudden brightness stung Harper's eyes, but the relief of having both Beka and Tyr back in the same room made up for any discomfort he was feeling. Milon stepped in and looked at the two crewmembers sitting in the sofa. He looked a little different, Harper thought, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Hi. Isn't this great, you're here!"

He walked over and shook their hands. Yes, there was definitely something... wrong with him. Then Pitch spoke up:

"Well, you look like shit. What the hell have you been up to Miles?"

Milon turned around and gave his friend what could only be described as a guilty look. Tyr was standing by the door, arms crossed, not even saying hello to them. What had been going on here?

"I just... I had to get away for a while..." Milon mumbled.

Pitch just kept staring him out, not saying anything. Harper knew that feeling. It was the same silent threat that Tyr kept giving him when he did something wrong. Well, rather you than me mate, Harper though. Suddenly, Pitch grabbed a rough hold on Milon's chin and tilted his head up to the light.

"What the fuck? What are you on?"

Milon pulled back, staring at the floor. He mumbled something too quietly for them to hear. Then Tyr stepped forwards:

"Leave the boy alone! We have more important matters at hand."

"And like I told you before," Pitch answered, "mind your own fucking business!"

Pitch and Tyr stared at each other with the same ice cold intensity. Neither of them was going to back down, look away or show any other signs of resignation. Stubborn bastards. They might very well be here for the day.

"Look, don't you two start! I'm so sick of it!"

Milon stepped in between them. He was either very brave or very stupid, Harper thought. And he was probably the only one in the world who'd get away with doing it. He put his hands out to hold them apart, and Harper could see that his hands were trembling. Not from fear. Pitch grabbed his wrist and pulled him over harshly.

"What are you doing? Shakes, and eyes like that? What the hell are you on Miles?"

"Look, it doesn't matter okay… we can talk about it later. Right now we need to…"

"Right now you need to answer my question!" Pitch interrupted.

The atmosphere in the room had become so tense that Harper felt like running away. It was like the feeling of an electrical charge in the air just before lightning hit. The sensible thing would be to get out of there. He glanced at Beka who had the same look on her face. Tyr just stood there, watching Milon squirm under Pitch's hard gaze. Then suddenly, he put his hand on Milon's shoulder and said:

"Go on. Tell him."

Milon shook his head, his eyes still firmly fixed on the ground. Then he seemed to take a deep breath and look up at his friend.

"Okay… it's 'The Life'…"

"Android juice? Are you fucking insane Milon? Do you know what that will do to your veins? And your brain? What the fuck…"

He was shouting, but it wasn't just pure anger in his voice, there was a definite tone of despertaion there. Obviously he actually cared beneath that cold surface.

"Pitch! Please, hear me out! I wouldn't use it if I didn't have to… I really didn't want to tell you this but… I'm… I've got…"

Milon hid his face in his hands. Was he crying? What was this?

"What?" Pitch said.

He almost sounded scared. The answer came so quietly that Harper could hardly hear what he said. But it sounded like he said 'trial'. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Pitch closed his eyes. It looked like he was grinding his teeth. Harper couldn't stand this tension any more, he had to ask:

"What's trial?"

Nobody answered him. He was just about to ask again, when Pitch suddenly said:

"So, how did you manage that? In the streams? Spent some time with Viper?"

His voice was like ice. Milon looked up at him with a shocked expression.

"I… I don't know… where I got it…"

"You had to let someone jack you in, didn't you? Couldn't stay away no matter how many times I told you. Why, was it to take your mind off your tragic little life? Well, you got what you wanted, you've managed to end it. Good job. Just don't expect me to feel sorry for you."

Milon stared at him. If he hadn't been crying before, he was now. Harper could see silent tears rolling down his face. How could Pitch be so cold and say those things to him? Obviously, whatever it was Milon had, it had to be something bad.

"Pitch… I didn't…" Milon whispered, but Pitch just made a disgusted face and turned away from him.

Milon looked completely devastated. He made no attempt at trying to hide his tears, just turned around and walked out into the kitchen. Harper could hear a door opening and closing.

"What's…" Harper started, but was silenced by the darkest look he had ever seen Tyr give.

Pitch spun around and looked at Harper, who suddenly regretted ever opening his mouth.

"What was that about? Is that what you were going to ask me?" Pitch said sharply.

"Um… no. I was just wondering what this "trial" thing was… never mind."

"It's a disease," Tyr said.

"Yeah, it's a disease you never have to catch unless you're reckless and stupid. It's a disease you get from the Streams. Where he had no fucking business being in the first place!"

"What's the streams?" Harper asked.

Pitch didn't answer him this time just moved back and forth as if he didn't know what to do. They could hear him swearing under his breath, then out loud and eventually he just roared, punching the wall and storming off out into the kitchen.

"Was it something I said?" Harper quipped halfheartedly, trying to lighten up the mood.

Tyr walked over to the sofa and looked down on him. He didn't look angry as Harper had half expected, but there was something very dark in his face.

"So, do you know how we get back to the Andromeda?" he said.

"Yeah. We have to go upstairs. They have this room with those channeller machines. Although, I kinda set off the security alert once today, so I don't know when we'll be able to… Is Milon really sick?"

"Yes. He is dying."

"From using his bio-port?"

"I do not know how he contracted the virus. But I know that he has around two weeks to live. And that it will be a most painful death."

The room went quiet as neither of them seemed to know what to say. Then it came to Harper, the most obvious thing in the world:

"Can't we bring him back to the Andromeda? If it's at all curable, I know Trance will find a way?"

"He says there is no cure."

"Yeah, well, in our dimension, there might be. It's worth a try, right? It's not like he's got anything to lose…"

"Yeah, it can't hurt," Beka agreed.

For some reason, Tyr just frowned and stayed silent.