Hi! Thank you for reading. Enjoy the ride!
Chapter 5
Sophie began to sing, faintly, a lilting bouncy song. It started slow and sped up until it reached a frantic crescendo. He stared, unable to move. When the song was done the echoes of her voice lingered like ghostly images around the room. Harper started to breathe again as soon as her image winked out.
He smiled in satisfaction. He'd done it. He'd found her. In a sense, now she was his. The feeling of possession thrilled him. He could program the Extrapolator for continuous play and use her entire repertoire to serenade him all night. Hell, he could rig up a remote transmitter and earphones, and listen to her twenty-four hours a day. Joy rose in him like a tidal wave, washing away the last vestiges of loneliness and despair. He couldn't remember the last time he was so happy. The apathy he'd begun to feel toward his crewmates and the mission vanished. He started another song.
As she began to sing another ballad, he yawned widely, abruptly exhausted. Her image wavered before his tired eyes. He stood; staggered to a small closet and pulled out the thin sleeping pad he kept for the times he couldn't leave his work. He tossed it onto the floor in front of her and crossed to the Extrapolator. Quickly, he programmed it to have her sing all night, turned the volume to low and plopped onto the futon. He was asleep before he hit the bed.
** "I think he's obsessing," came Rommie's haughty voice, echoing as if from inside a hollow tunnel. A loud steady rushing sound nearly drowned her out.
A soft giggle followed. "About who?"
"You."
"Me?" murmured Sophie's dulcet tones. "Us. I am you after all."
"In a way. You were copied from my programming. But, he has modified- "
He opened his eyes and looked at them. The two women stood over him, draping leaves forming a dark canopy above them. Sitting up, he saw a heavy downpour of rain beyond the edge of the trio of trees that sheltered them. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the deluge encircled them. Rommie extended her hand and helped him up.
He chuckled nervously. "So, you two babes talking about me?"
"No," they said in unison.
Sophie stepped forward and took his face in her hands. She kissed him deeply. He returned the kiss like a man who'd been dying in the desert finally getting his first drink. After a few long moments, they broke apart. Smiling broadly, Harper's gaze sought Rommie, and found her standing near the rain, a wistful expression on her finely sculpted features. He spread his arms open wide, vaguely aware that he was dreaming.
"Come-on, Rom-doll. Join the party."
She gazed at him, dark eyes brimming with soft tears. She attempted a grin, her trembling lips pressed together.
He cocked his head in confusion. He let his arm drop to his side.
She sniffled, and turned toward the sheeting rain.
"Hey, Rommie-" he called, taking a step after her. Sophie, arms around his waist, clutched him and held him in place.
Rommie gave him an actual smile, though devoid of joy. The sheer devastation in that smile shocked him. He found himself shivering.
"You've made your choice," she said softly, then turned and stepped into the rain. The sheeting curtains of the deluge devoured her. **
"Rommie!" He sat up on the futon, panting, dribbling sweat burning his eyes.
~~
Beka reclined against the back of the seat in the observation deck, watching the stars stream by. She tried to still her racing heart, quell her emotions and think of anything but men and dancing and expending a lot of energy. Try as she might, she couldn't get the images out of her head. With every blink of her eyes, she saw Tyr with his towel slipping precariously or Dylan in tight spandex shorts, looking very happy to see her.
She slapped the observation windows in frustration. How much more of this could she take? Did she catch something from those bird people? She couldn't concentrate. Nothing on board ship really interested her anymore, except her book. This was very strange. Born and raised on the Eureka Maru, a very small starship, she found life in space a wonderful experience. So, why did she long for the company of strangers? Maybe she just needed action, bright lights, dancing, and a little fun.
Harper's new creation was fun, but the excitement was fading fast. She sighed. As realistic as the holograms were, they still lacked the energy of the real thing. You couldn't touch them. You couldn't strike up a conversation with them, though Harper swore he was working on that feature. She'd give her eyeteeth for a chance to talk to someone new...someone that didn't whistle and tweet as they spoke. She was so intent on her speculations that she didn't hear the door to the Obs Deck swoosh open.
Dylan stood watching her silently, leaning against a support strut. Sweat dried quickly on his forehead in the cool, circulating air, though his shirt remained damp and clingy. He could tell there was a battle raging inside her by the flowing expressions on her face. Briefly, he wondered at her thoughts, wondered about her reaction to him earlier in the gym. Trance must be right, again. Beka needed a break from the routine.
"Stop being stupid," Beka snarled at her own reflection in the window glass, then pulled her damp hair back into a short ponytail. Suddenly, she stiffened. Her blues eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. Dylan's face was mirrored in the glass directly above her own. Abruptly angry, she whirled. "Spy on people much?" she snapped.
He snapped back in surprise, an embarrassed flush creeping over his cheeks. His eyebrows rose mildly as he tried to play it off. "A good captain always knows what's going on with his crew. Watch without appearing to watch, you know that, Captain Valentine."
"Like you knew what your Nietzschean buddy, what was his name, Rhade, was doing? You ever eavesdrop on him?" she snapped, even as she realized that, as a Captain, she had eavesdropped on her own crew. It was the only way to be certain you knew everything that was going on. Dylan was right; watch without letting them know you watched. Listen without letting on that you heard.
Her words stung him. He frowned, straightening. The flush vanished as his face drained of color. Strain made a muscle twitch in his cheek.
Instantly, she felt guilty. He wasn't at fault for her mood, even if he unwittingly contributed to it. "Sorry," she said more softly. "That was a low blow. You couldn't know what he was planning. Frell, he probably didn't even know what he was planning until the Nietzscheans attacked at the Horse Head Nebula. Gotta credit a Nietzschean for pouncing on an opportunity."
"Apology accepted," he said, strolling closer. He smiled down at her, his gaze dropping to the cleavage exposed by her outfit and his angle. Quickly, he cleared his throat and stared past her at the stars, a flush once again infusing his face. For a long moment, he stood silently, the passing stars mirrored in his eyes.
Finally, amused by his reaction, she turned away from him and stared too. It was better that she not look at him. He was too beautiful, too serene, and too stoic. He seemed to lack the raging emotions that stormed through her constantly. It was too painful to know that he probably could read her like a book and consciously chose not to help her. Ah, well, a Captain's first duty was to his-or-her ship, not to his hormones. She'd probably never know if he even thought she was attractive. His flush was probably just because he got a quick peek down her shirt and didn't want to. She took a few deep breaths and found her anger fading. He was still hung up on his three-century dead fiancee anyway.
"If you have a problem, you can talk to me. Confidentiality is my trademark," he said finally.
Her gaze flickered up to his reflected face in the glass. Her eyes narrowed. Her mind raced as she tried to fathom his motives. After a few long moments she frowned and turned to him uncomfortably, pulling her knees up to her chest. She shrugged and glanced away when he looked at her. "It's...I don't know exactly. This ship is growing smaller all the time. I mean, you have this big crusade, this mission in life that consumes you." She gestured broadly with her hands, showing how big his ideals were. "It leaves you little room for anything else. That's fine for you. You're happy. You're busy. But, for me, well, sure I believe in the Commonwealth dream too. But it doesn't control my life. It's your quest."
He smiled gently. "I know. And I'm thankful that you and the others are taking time out of your lives to help me. I couldn't have gotten this far without you."
"It's a nice dream, I suppose. And it would be good for the universe, I guess. But..." She glanced up at him and gave him an apologetic look. "This quest is kind of dull."
He pulled back in surprise. "Dull?"
"Yeah, face it, it's the same thing every time. One Drift after another who has to be convinced through hours of rhetoric how wonderful joining the Restored Commonwealth would be. They hedge, they whine, they give in...or not. And they all want something from us. They're like vultures. Then there's either a party or a road trip to the next Drift and it starts all over again. It all blends together. Where's the fun? Where's the excitement? I thought the High Guard was exciting, but all we do is talk."
He listened patiently as Captains were trained to do in the High Guard. For all his quietude, his mind spun considering her words and their ramifications. The crew was not happy, as Trance had said. An unhappy crew was an inefficient, perhaps even dangerous crew. He needed to try harder to find a haven for shore leave. Still, he had the feeling her problems were more personal than needing shore leave. He honestly had no idea what they were. "We've had our moments, Beka. What about our little time travel trip? Or, searching for Tarn Vedra? The Perseid who-"
She raised her hands defensively. "All right, all right. So it hasn't all been boring. But it has lately. For months at least. I'm getting' kind of tired of seeing the same old faces continuously."
"And that's all that's wrong?"
She stiffened, suddenly wary. His voice was full of genuine concern, but she hadn't noticed that he'd moved closer to her as they talked. His arm nearly brushed her shoulder. Now she was very aware, too aware. She couldn't keep it from her face. She tore her gaze from him, trying to ignore the fact that she could still see his spandex shorts in her peripheral vision. She prayed that the window glass muted her reflection enough to mask her emotions, though she knew that it didn't.
"You're sure? You look kind of flushed. Are you getting sick or..." he trailed off as he noticed her looking at him from the corner of her eye. A flush crept across his cheeks and he swallowed hard. Why was she looking there? Too late, he realized that his attire wasn't the best choice. It occurred to him what part of her problem might be. He realized she might have picked up on some of his growing emotions for her during their time working together. But a relationship couldn't be. He was the Captain, she a crewmember. His first duty, first love, must be for his ship. Dating a crewmember would undermine his authority. Trying to seem innocent, he crossed his hands in front of his spandex shorts and let his gaze roam around the room, stopping everywhere except on his Acting First Officer. He noted that Trance had been in the room, adding more and more plants. They bloomed magnificently under her care.
She rolled her eyes, abruptly angry. Why did guys always assume a woman was sick if she showed more than one emotion? Either that or they assumed she was on her period and somehow weak and inferior. The thought pissed her off. She turned away from him to stare out at the stars. She didn't want to look at him. And Dylan, he was probably in love with Andromeda just as Rommie was hopelessly smitten with him. Slowly, a brilliant orange and purple nebula crept by. Its ghostly arms spread wide in a silent dance. "That time of the month, I guess," she quipped, trying to gage by his reaction if that's what he was thinking.
He was silent, at a loss for words.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Both searched for something to say and drew a blank. Dylan's stomach growled and broke the tension.
"No. I'm not sick, just feeling weird," she admitted, softly, after deciding he was genuinely trying to be nice. "Like something's missing and I don't know what it is. I've tried a lot of different remedies, sports, reading, long showers, running the decks. Nothing works. Rev even talked me into meditating amongst Trance's plants. I don't know. Didn't work. The hole is still there."
"Spring fever."
"What?" She whirled to face him, letting her feet fall to the floor. He jumped back as though jolted by a static shock when her bare leg brushed his. She cocked her head in confusion. "There are no seasons here, in case you haven't noticed." She gave him a look that asked if he were insane.
He grinned, not meeting her piercing stare. He continued mildly, as though lecturing a student, "Spring fever is a condition where a person has been cooped up inside so long due to snow outside that they go a little crazy. They'd do anything to get outside and expend some energy."
She looked away then glanced at him uncomfortably, furrowing her brow. "Oh, well, that's it then."
"I'll see what I can do," he said with a smile, reaching out automatically to pat her shoulder. Suddenly afraid of his reaction if he touched her, he stopped himself, hand poised over her skin, then yanked it back quickly. Not waiting for her reply, he whirled and strode from the room. Once in the corridor, he released a deep breath, and strolled away, humming softly to himself. He was confident that he had solved another puzzle and his crew would soon be purring like sun baked cats. He was also very glad to avoid dealing with his burgeoning attraction for his Acting First Officer, particularly since he knew his ship's avatar liked him. What a mess that all could be...a very fatal mess. He increased his pace back to his quarters lest Beka come out behind him.
Beka watched him leave. She didn't really know what he was talking about or why he was suddenly so happy. She was glad he left. It was difficult to hide his effect on her. Shoot, she wasn't good at interpersonal games. Her emotions were probably transparent. It was too late now. With a shrug, she turned back to her contemplation of the stars. Inexplicably, she found that she also felt better. Some of the tension had faded. Strange, the way he sometimes did that to her.
~~
Harper salivated over the holo-image of Sophie singing until his eyes ached and burned. During the past four days, he had taken to eating his meals in his quarters, leaving only when absolutely necessary. He'd taken the Extrapolator into the mess hall one time and gotten ribbed over the fact that the only singer he'd play was Sophie. Oh, they agreed she was good, but Tyr pointed out his schoolboy crush and Beka danced around singing, "Harper's got a girlfriend" until he wanted to punch her. He'd left in a huff with Tyr grinning after him.
Now, he was alone in his quarters, playing the same song over and over. It was his favorite, the one that had made an indelible impression with the first notes she sang. Rubbing his eyes, he stood and crossed to her. She swayed and danced serenely to the melody she sang, gaze distant, turned inward toward some beautiful scene only she could see. Automatically, his feet took him to stand before her and sway in time with her movements. He didn't close his eyes only gazed upon her face as he danced with her. She was, perhaps, an inch shorter than he was. Their movements blended wonderfully. He matched her step for step; palms clasped behind his back lest he accidentally bump her holo-image and destroy the illusion that she was really there. Sweet agony filled his middle. He burned to hold her in his arms, to smell her hair, to feel her breath upon his neck.
It was not to be. He could see the interior of his room faintly through her. She sang and danced and never looked at him. She couldn't see him. She didn't know he existed. It was torture to him, a form of cruel and unusual punishment. He couldn't explain it, but he needed to see her every day. He ached to embrace her, to really dance with her. At the moment, she seemed like the closest thing to a real love that he would ever have. He had played her hologram so often since he discovered her that he'd memorized her face.
Then he had an epiphany. He knew what he had to do to cure his longing.
TBC in ch 6.
Chapter 5
Sophie began to sing, faintly, a lilting bouncy song. It started slow and sped up until it reached a frantic crescendo. He stared, unable to move. When the song was done the echoes of her voice lingered like ghostly images around the room. Harper started to breathe again as soon as her image winked out.
He smiled in satisfaction. He'd done it. He'd found her. In a sense, now she was his. The feeling of possession thrilled him. He could program the Extrapolator for continuous play and use her entire repertoire to serenade him all night. Hell, he could rig up a remote transmitter and earphones, and listen to her twenty-four hours a day. Joy rose in him like a tidal wave, washing away the last vestiges of loneliness and despair. He couldn't remember the last time he was so happy. The apathy he'd begun to feel toward his crewmates and the mission vanished. He started another song.
As she began to sing another ballad, he yawned widely, abruptly exhausted. Her image wavered before his tired eyes. He stood; staggered to a small closet and pulled out the thin sleeping pad he kept for the times he couldn't leave his work. He tossed it onto the floor in front of her and crossed to the Extrapolator. Quickly, he programmed it to have her sing all night, turned the volume to low and plopped onto the futon. He was asleep before he hit the bed.
** "I think he's obsessing," came Rommie's haughty voice, echoing as if from inside a hollow tunnel. A loud steady rushing sound nearly drowned her out.
A soft giggle followed. "About who?"
"You."
"Me?" murmured Sophie's dulcet tones. "Us. I am you after all."
"In a way. You were copied from my programming. But, he has modified- "
He opened his eyes and looked at them. The two women stood over him, draping leaves forming a dark canopy above them. Sitting up, he saw a heavy downpour of rain beyond the edge of the trio of trees that sheltered them. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the deluge encircled them. Rommie extended her hand and helped him up.
He chuckled nervously. "So, you two babes talking about me?"
"No," they said in unison.
Sophie stepped forward and took his face in her hands. She kissed him deeply. He returned the kiss like a man who'd been dying in the desert finally getting his first drink. After a few long moments, they broke apart. Smiling broadly, Harper's gaze sought Rommie, and found her standing near the rain, a wistful expression on her finely sculpted features. He spread his arms open wide, vaguely aware that he was dreaming.
"Come-on, Rom-doll. Join the party."
She gazed at him, dark eyes brimming with soft tears. She attempted a grin, her trembling lips pressed together.
He cocked his head in confusion. He let his arm drop to his side.
She sniffled, and turned toward the sheeting rain.
"Hey, Rommie-" he called, taking a step after her. Sophie, arms around his waist, clutched him and held him in place.
Rommie gave him an actual smile, though devoid of joy. The sheer devastation in that smile shocked him. He found himself shivering.
"You've made your choice," she said softly, then turned and stepped into the rain. The sheeting curtains of the deluge devoured her. **
"Rommie!" He sat up on the futon, panting, dribbling sweat burning his eyes.
~~
Beka reclined against the back of the seat in the observation deck, watching the stars stream by. She tried to still her racing heart, quell her emotions and think of anything but men and dancing and expending a lot of energy. Try as she might, she couldn't get the images out of her head. With every blink of her eyes, she saw Tyr with his towel slipping precariously or Dylan in tight spandex shorts, looking very happy to see her.
She slapped the observation windows in frustration. How much more of this could she take? Did she catch something from those bird people? She couldn't concentrate. Nothing on board ship really interested her anymore, except her book. This was very strange. Born and raised on the Eureka Maru, a very small starship, she found life in space a wonderful experience. So, why did she long for the company of strangers? Maybe she just needed action, bright lights, dancing, and a little fun.
Harper's new creation was fun, but the excitement was fading fast. She sighed. As realistic as the holograms were, they still lacked the energy of the real thing. You couldn't touch them. You couldn't strike up a conversation with them, though Harper swore he was working on that feature. She'd give her eyeteeth for a chance to talk to someone new...someone that didn't whistle and tweet as they spoke. She was so intent on her speculations that she didn't hear the door to the Obs Deck swoosh open.
Dylan stood watching her silently, leaning against a support strut. Sweat dried quickly on his forehead in the cool, circulating air, though his shirt remained damp and clingy. He could tell there was a battle raging inside her by the flowing expressions on her face. Briefly, he wondered at her thoughts, wondered about her reaction to him earlier in the gym. Trance must be right, again. Beka needed a break from the routine.
"Stop being stupid," Beka snarled at her own reflection in the window glass, then pulled her damp hair back into a short ponytail. Suddenly, she stiffened. Her blues eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. Dylan's face was mirrored in the glass directly above her own. Abruptly angry, she whirled. "Spy on people much?" she snapped.
He snapped back in surprise, an embarrassed flush creeping over his cheeks. His eyebrows rose mildly as he tried to play it off. "A good captain always knows what's going on with his crew. Watch without appearing to watch, you know that, Captain Valentine."
"Like you knew what your Nietzschean buddy, what was his name, Rhade, was doing? You ever eavesdrop on him?" she snapped, even as she realized that, as a Captain, she had eavesdropped on her own crew. It was the only way to be certain you knew everything that was going on. Dylan was right; watch without letting them know you watched. Listen without letting on that you heard.
Her words stung him. He frowned, straightening. The flush vanished as his face drained of color. Strain made a muscle twitch in his cheek.
Instantly, she felt guilty. He wasn't at fault for her mood, even if he unwittingly contributed to it. "Sorry," she said more softly. "That was a low blow. You couldn't know what he was planning. Frell, he probably didn't even know what he was planning until the Nietzscheans attacked at the Horse Head Nebula. Gotta credit a Nietzschean for pouncing on an opportunity."
"Apology accepted," he said, strolling closer. He smiled down at her, his gaze dropping to the cleavage exposed by her outfit and his angle. Quickly, he cleared his throat and stared past her at the stars, a flush once again infusing his face. For a long moment, he stood silently, the passing stars mirrored in his eyes.
Finally, amused by his reaction, she turned away from him and stared too. It was better that she not look at him. He was too beautiful, too serene, and too stoic. He seemed to lack the raging emotions that stormed through her constantly. It was too painful to know that he probably could read her like a book and consciously chose not to help her. Ah, well, a Captain's first duty was to his-or-her ship, not to his hormones. She'd probably never know if he even thought she was attractive. His flush was probably just because he got a quick peek down her shirt and didn't want to. She took a few deep breaths and found her anger fading. He was still hung up on his three-century dead fiancee anyway.
"If you have a problem, you can talk to me. Confidentiality is my trademark," he said finally.
Her gaze flickered up to his reflected face in the glass. Her eyes narrowed. Her mind raced as she tried to fathom his motives. After a few long moments she frowned and turned to him uncomfortably, pulling her knees up to her chest. She shrugged and glanced away when he looked at her. "It's...I don't know exactly. This ship is growing smaller all the time. I mean, you have this big crusade, this mission in life that consumes you." She gestured broadly with her hands, showing how big his ideals were. "It leaves you little room for anything else. That's fine for you. You're happy. You're busy. But, for me, well, sure I believe in the Commonwealth dream too. But it doesn't control my life. It's your quest."
He smiled gently. "I know. And I'm thankful that you and the others are taking time out of your lives to help me. I couldn't have gotten this far without you."
"It's a nice dream, I suppose. And it would be good for the universe, I guess. But..." She glanced up at him and gave him an apologetic look. "This quest is kind of dull."
He pulled back in surprise. "Dull?"
"Yeah, face it, it's the same thing every time. One Drift after another who has to be convinced through hours of rhetoric how wonderful joining the Restored Commonwealth would be. They hedge, they whine, they give in...or not. And they all want something from us. They're like vultures. Then there's either a party or a road trip to the next Drift and it starts all over again. It all blends together. Where's the fun? Where's the excitement? I thought the High Guard was exciting, but all we do is talk."
He listened patiently as Captains were trained to do in the High Guard. For all his quietude, his mind spun considering her words and their ramifications. The crew was not happy, as Trance had said. An unhappy crew was an inefficient, perhaps even dangerous crew. He needed to try harder to find a haven for shore leave. Still, he had the feeling her problems were more personal than needing shore leave. He honestly had no idea what they were. "We've had our moments, Beka. What about our little time travel trip? Or, searching for Tarn Vedra? The Perseid who-"
She raised her hands defensively. "All right, all right. So it hasn't all been boring. But it has lately. For months at least. I'm getting' kind of tired of seeing the same old faces continuously."
"And that's all that's wrong?"
She stiffened, suddenly wary. His voice was full of genuine concern, but she hadn't noticed that he'd moved closer to her as they talked. His arm nearly brushed her shoulder. Now she was very aware, too aware. She couldn't keep it from her face. She tore her gaze from him, trying to ignore the fact that she could still see his spandex shorts in her peripheral vision. She prayed that the window glass muted her reflection enough to mask her emotions, though she knew that it didn't.
"You're sure? You look kind of flushed. Are you getting sick or..." he trailed off as he noticed her looking at him from the corner of her eye. A flush crept across his cheeks and he swallowed hard. Why was she looking there? Too late, he realized that his attire wasn't the best choice. It occurred to him what part of her problem might be. He realized she might have picked up on some of his growing emotions for her during their time working together. But a relationship couldn't be. He was the Captain, she a crewmember. His first duty, first love, must be for his ship. Dating a crewmember would undermine his authority. Trying to seem innocent, he crossed his hands in front of his spandex shorts and let his gaze roam around the room, stopping everywhere except on his Acting First Officer. He noted that Trance had been in the room, adding more and more plants. They bloomed magnificently under her care.
She rolled her eyes, abruptly angry. Why did guys always assume a woman was sick if she showed more than one emotion? Either that or they assumed she was on her period and somehow weak and inferior. The thought pissed her off. She turned away from him to stare out at the stars. She didn't want to look at him. And Dylan, he was probably in love with Andromeda just as Rommie was hopelessly smitten with him. Slowly, a brilliant orange and purple nebula crept by. Its ghostly arms spread wide in a silent dance. "That time of the month, I guess," she quipped, trying to gage by his reaction if that's what he was thinking.
He was silent, at a loss for words.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Both searched for something to say and drew a blank. Dylan's stomach growled and broke the tension.
"No. I'm not sick, just feeling weird," she admitted, softly, after deciding he was genuinely trying to be nice. "Like something's missing and I don't know what it is. I've tried a lot of different remedies, sports, reading, long showers, running the decks. Nothing works. Rev even talked me into meditating amongst Trance's plants. I don't know. Didn't work. The hole is still there."
"Spring fever."
"What?" She whirled to face him, letting her feet fall to the floor. He jumped back as though jolted by a static shock when her bare leg brushed his. She cocked her head in confusion. "There are no seasons here, in case you haven't noticed." She gave him a look that asked if he were insane.
He grinned, not meeting her piercing stare. He continued mildly, as though lecturing a student, "Spring fever is a condition where a person has been cooped up inside so long due to snow outside that they go a little crazy. They'd do anything to get outside and expend some energy."
She looked away then glanced at him uncomfortably, furrowing her brow. "Oh, well, that's it then."
"I'll see what I can do," he said with a smile, reaching out automatically to pat her shoulder. Suddenly afraid of his reaction if he touched her, he stopped himself, hand poised over her skin, then yanked it back quickly. Not waiting for her reply, he whirled and strode from the room. Once in the corridor, he released a deep breath, and strolled away, humming softly to himself. He was confident that he had solved another puzzle and his crew would soon be purring like sun baked cats. He was also very glad to avoid dealing with his burgeoning attraction for his Acting First Officer, particularly since he knew his ship's avatar liked him. What a mess that all could be...a very fatal mess. He increased his pace back to his quarters lest Beka come out behind him.
Beka watched him leave. She didn't really know what he was talking about or why he was suddenly so happy. She was glad he left. It was difficult to hide his effect on her. Shoot, she wasn't good at interpersonal games. Her emotions were probably transparent. It was too late now. With a shrug, she turned back to her contemplation of the stars. Inexplicably, she found that she also felt better. Some of the tension had faded. Strange, the way he sometimes did that to her.
~~
Harper salivated over the holo-image of Sophie singing until his eyes ached and burned. During the past four days, he had taken to eating his meals in his quarters, leaving only when absolutely necessary. He'd taken the Extrapolator into the mess hall one time and gotten ribbed over the fact that the only singer he'd play was Sophie. Oh, they agreed she was good, but Tyr pointed out his schoolboy crush and Beka danced around singing, "Harper's got a girlfriend" until he wanted to punch her. He'd left in a huff with Tyr grinning after him.
Now, he was alone in his quarters, playing the same song over and over. It was his favorite, the one that had made an indelible impression with the first notes she sang. Rubbing his eyes, he stood and crossed to her. She swayed and danced serenely to the melody she sang, gaze distant, turned inward toward some beautiful scene only she could see. Automatically, his feet took him to stand before her and sway in time with her movements. He didn't close his eyes only gazed upon her face as he danced with her. She was, perhaps, an inch shorter than he was. Their movements blended wonderfully. He matched her step for step; palms clasped behind his back lest he accidentally bump her holo-image and destroy the illusion that she was really there. Sweet agony filled his middle. He burned to hold her in his arms, to smell her hair, to feel her breath upon his neck.
It was not to be. He could see the interior of his room faintly through her. She sang and danced and never looked at him. She couldn't see him. She didn't know he existed. It was torture to him, a form of cruel and unusual punishment. He couldn't explain it, but he needed to see her every day. He ached to embrace her, to really dance with her. At the moment, she seemed like the closest thing to a real love that he would ever have. He had played her hologram so often since he discovered her that he'd memorized her face.
Then he had an epiphany. He knew what he had to do to cure his longing.
TBC in ch 6.