XIV.
Command doors hiss and slide.
"Ah – going down fighting, I see. Good for you."
Dylan grins and walks over carefully.
"Thanks for the encouragement, Tyr. How are our new friends on the Council?"
"Politely amicable, so far. The Vizier relayed a message an hour ago, thanking us for our hospitality and expressing his intentions to convey our interest in expressing our intentions to the Council Proper."
"I imagine that may take a while."
"You imagine correctly. If you believe the 'Fon's ritualised meetings with strangers are involved, you should see them with their local political peers."
"I shudder to think. How long before we can expect a reply?"
Anywhere from…twenty-four to seventy-two hours."
"Damn."
"Yes. You're thinking about…"
"Three days can be a long time."
"…And you may not be in a fit state to receive a second delegation… Is Mister Harper making no progress at all?"
"He's working on it…" Dylan blinks and staggers as things go a little blurry around the edges. "Whoah…"
Tyr rounds the command station in under a second.
" – Here, hold the bar…now sit down slowly…"
"…thanks…"
"Museveni's ghost, man – may I ask what you're doing, wandering the ship in this condition?"
"…it's okay, it's…just the painkillers…"
"Here, lift your arm…"
"What –"
"I'm taking you back to med-deck before your ship's avatar flays the skin from my bones."
"Heh – y'know, I've got something that could do that much quicker for you –"
"Very amusing. Come on…and lift –"
" – ungh…"
"Now turn…"
"Tyr – not medical. Just…my quarters will be fine."
"Your quarters, then. But if Andromeda –" The viewscreen flares to life. Tyr grimaces. "…Speak of the devil…"
"Tyr, have you seen –" The hologram scowls and crosses her arms. "There you are."
Dylan flaps a hand.
"Uh, hi. It's okay, really. Tyr was just helping me get back to –"
"To med-deck – immediately. When Trance came back and found you gone she almost had an apoplectic fit. Tyr –"
"I'll get him there. Kicking and screaming, if necessary."
"Good. And you –" Her five-times-life-size face frowns at Dylan ominously. "- no more escape-and-evade routines, or I'll relieve you of duty."
"Uh, yes ma'am."
"Say it like you mean it."
Tyr interrupts.
"Andromeda?"
"Yes?"
"Er…" His look at Dylan brims with uncertainty. "He's, uh…he's not contagious, is he?"
Rommie rolls her eyes and winks out.
XV.
Med-deck again.
The lights are dimmed in deference to human sleep requirements. There's the rub – sleeping. He was, but he's not now.
Monitors blip and cast a blue glow. His side is itching and throbbing at the same time – if he thinks about it, he imagines that he can feel a million microscopic teeth gnawing there. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about anything at all.
Cool fingers brush his hair – his eyes blink open again.
"…hey."
"Oh, hey – you're awake."
Beka – make-upless, with sleepy face and a dark-coloured robe. Her fingers dart back shyly.
"I didn't mean to –"
"Nah, you didn't. I've been lying here trying not to think about my guts turning to mulch."
"Oh…sorry about that."
"Forget it. You never know, Beka – could've been a flash of prescience…"
Her eyes narrow.
"Sorry – I've never had the gift. Anyway, Trance and Harper can work miracles together. I've seen it happen."
"Yeah, but right now these nanobots are kicking their ass…" He sighs, trying to remember that he's an optimist. "Anyway. So, what, are you one of my 'moral support' crew?"
She regards him archly, fine-boned and tired in the quiet light.
"At 0300? No, I'm just one of your regular crew – y'know, the ones hoping you'll get better…"
He snorts and looks away, abashed. He deserved that.
"Sorry."
"Don't be. It's okay. You're sick." She grins. "Sick people say stupid things all the time."
"Thanks."
"No problem. So…when are we going?"
He's confused.
"We're going somewhere?"
Now she's confused.
"Well, yeah…I mean, I thought, you know – Thebbia?"
"Ah – that somewhere."
"Dylan, if we go back to Thebbia, we might have a better chance of figuring out –"
"Beka, I'm in the middle of parley discussions. I can't just pull stumps and leave right now. We screwed up the first time 'round – this could be our last chance with the 'Fon Council."
"Look, I appreciate your commitment to the cause and everything, but I think maybe you're missing some of the finer details – like, you can't parley if you're dead."
He grins.
"I thought we were relying on Trance and Harper to avoid the whole 'worst case scenario' thing."
She's not going to be drawn in.
"I'm serious, Dylan. You hardly seem up to another round of bowing and political bargaining. Think about it."
Pause for thought – he frowns. He's surprised, but he shouldn't be.
"You're worried."
"We're all worried…" Smoothing the lapel of her robe. "Let's just say that I don't feel quite ready for the responsibilities of command – not yet, anyway."
"Relax, Beka. I've decided…I've decided to give the 'Fon thirty-six hours – then…I don't know, send my apologies, I guess…"
Her slow nod is her seal of approval.
"Okay. Good. It's nice to know that you're open to reason."
"Hah."
"And if the Dynamic Duo haven't figured out a way to stop your body parts from dropping off by that stage, then I'm sure you'll be even more keen on the idea."
Leper jokes…he rolls his eyes.
"I'm sure."
"Good. Well, I guess…I should let you go back to sleep…d'you wanna go back to sleep?"
He sighs and shifts uncomfortably.
"Yeah…well, no. Maybe. In a little while."
"So…you want some company?"
"Sure."
She settles on the stool near the bed.
"What do you want to hear?"
"Anything."
She smiles and thinks for a second.
"Okay… Well, a long time ago, when I had purple hair –"
"You had purple hair?"
"Yes. That's another story. Don't interrupt. A long time ago, when I had purple hair…"
She tells stories until he stops laughing at the good bits, and his eyelids droop, and his body softens. Then she sits for a while, watching him, and when she's sure that he's asleep she curls her fingers through his hair one more time before going back to bed.