Disclaimer: I own this quote. I strongly recommend you don't try nicking it, because I get...offended...by that sort of behaviour. Violent by nature I may not be, but hell, I grew up in Staines. All I need is a minute to have the same effect on a guilty party that bromide in tea is reputed to take several weeks to achieve.

I also own the Gravian star system.

Author's Notes: If you decide you like this fic or hate it or have suggestions/ideas etc., please please PLEASE click that little purple button at the bottom and say anything you like (well, other than blast away with flamethrowers if you know what I mean!) It's not that I'll stop writing this without reviews, it's just I'm getting a tad worried 'cos my A-level results are coming up and I'm stressed out to the max here. Once again my fingernails have been reduced to splintered kindling.

CHAPTER THREE

CHANGES

"What are we to the world? Our lives are but specks of dust to the time of the world, to the universe. It is hard to see how each of us can make a difference with our short lives.

"But it happens. By taking an action, or saying something at the right time to the right person, or not being somewhere, the world can change. It is often imperceptible, yet such a change can happen."

—Anonymous, circa Earth Year 2004

Specific Time: Three days after the completion of the Machen Alpha mission

"Dammit!" Beka snapped, sucking at her hand.

"Need a hand, boss?"

She jumped as Harper materialised as a hologram beside her. "Geez, you scared a year's growth outta me shorty."

He grinned lopsidedly, spreading his 'hands' wide in apology. "Sorry. Can't knock on a bulkhead or anything. What's the trouble?"

"Mmm—damned nanowelder, slipped and cut myself with it," she nodded toward the offending implement in question, still trying to clean the cut as best she could.

"Ouch. You want I should get Trance?"

She grinned, twitching an eyebrow. "Now you've got no problems with getting Trance to look at a little scrape."

He flinched at this, and she regretted her choice of words. "Look, I-I didn't mean it like that Harper..."

"...yeah. I know Bek," he whispered. "It's...y'know what, it's nothing, it's okay. I mean, hell, I'm never, never getting sick again, yeah? That's gotta be a plus."

She smiled at him, fighting the urge to put a hand on his shoulder and gently squeeze it to reassure him. "Thanks Harper. You go get Trance, I really think that'd be a good idea."

He forced a grin as he dematerialised. "Be back soon."

Although being dead had many downsides, this was something Harper knew —indeed, hoped—he would never grow too accustomed to or blasé about. He felt a surge of exhilaration as he soared through Andromeda's datastreams, heading for the point where he could materialise in Medical.

Something caught the edge of his attention, and he focussed upon it.

Most odd.

He tested it, and grew curious when it did not yield.

This was weird.

"Hey, Rommie?" he asked, forming an image of himself inside her matrix, all the easier to hold a conversation with. "Why can't I see inside machine shop seventeen? It's not on the list."

One of the conditions that Andromeda and Dylan had laid down when giving Harper the ability to manifest himself as a hologram or on screens was to limit where he could and could not do so. It was a short list to be sure, consisting purely of private quarters and even then he could 'enter' if requested to do so or invited. He had grinned a holographic grin upon being told this, as he remembered the old legends and fiction from Earth concerning the mythical creatures known as 'vampyrs', unable to enter a home without the invitation of the owner.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, appearing 'beside' him.

"Oh c'mon Rommie, don't play coy. I was just passing and what do I see but a block keeping me out of machine shop seventeen. What's with that, huh?"

"Ah, well, you see Beka's in there and has engaged privacy mode," she stammered.

Harper grinned, choking down a laugh. "Oh, puh-lease! You're forgetting, babe, you're talking to someone who really knows their way around the insides of a computer matrix and not an amateur. 'Sides, I already checked and that sure's hell ain't privacy mode. And last of all, I just came from Beka—she's in a conduit close to the slipstream core!

"Rommie," he sighed, growing serious, "please don't lie to me, okay? You might be able to depopulate a planet like Machen Alpha or somewhere like that in less than two minutes but lying just isn't your strong suit. What's this about?"

"I think you'll have to ask Dylan," she finally ventured. "I'm sorry Harper, but it...it's something of a secret for now."

He nodded, knowing full well that even if Andromeda was unskilled in deceiving him, she would never willingly surrender a secret. "I'll get around to it," he promised. "By the way, Trance is in Medical, right? Beka cut herself, and I left her about a quarter of a second ago to find Trance, thought I'd get her to take a look at it before it gets infected."

"She is," Andromeda smiled.

"See ya around," he winked, disappearing back into the glittering datastreams.

This was, Harper mused, a most convenient state of existence for contacting people swiftly and simultaneously. For even as he appeared on a screen in Medical and told Trance about Beka's accident, he was also materialising as a hologram on Command a dozen decks up, all within a full second of leaving Beka. Technology was bliss, especially when you resided within it.

He was also faintly amused when Dylan looked up, startled to see a hologram other than Andromeda's materialising right next to him. And that was something else Harper welcomed. Way back after when Beka had only just got him off of Earth, it had taken him literally years to get used to being in close proximity with other people. On Earth, when that happened usually someone was either attacking you or...

He shuddered inwardly, pushing the memory away. Now he had no need to fear things like that. Even though he knew that Beka and Dylan would never allow something like that to happen to him, he felt very secure in the knowledge that as a hologram, he would truly never again have to worry about being physically assaulted or abused.

"Mr. Harper," Dylan began, recovering from his little start, "what can I do for you?"

"Well, I just spotted something odd and Rommie said to ask you about it: what's with machine shop seventeen?"

Dylan sighed, as though he had been anticipating this question for some time and had hoped it would never be asked. "That's, ah—"

"Before you say 'it's a secret' or something like that, I already got that from Andromeda," Harper avoided that particular answer being repeated. "Come on boss bug, ever since we replaced it that shop's been the most advanced of them all. I should know, I helped refit the place!" he began 'pacing' in front of Dylan's console.

"What's going on in there? I know that the Nova bombs are being constructed in shop five, so it's not that, and it's not a standard privacy mode that's been engaged—I checked that barrier real careful-like, and Andromeda isn't blocked, just me."

"Mr. Harper, I promise you you will be told about that when the time is right, but it's not something I'm prepared to go into just right now," Dylan gently smiled, disliking keeping secrets from his engineer but knowing it to be for the best. "I'm sorry, but things...aren't quite ready. Is there anything else?"

"Well, I was going to save this for later, but Beka's filed a list of parts the Maru needs getting on the next supply run, and Tyr and Rommie are compiling a database of parts and equipment for Andromeda—last time I saw them this morning they were arguing over Tyr's request for a dozen gauss rifles..."

Even as he began giving Dylan a semi-complete, informal update on Andromeda's engineering status, Harper's mind was also just as intently focused on the conversation he was holding with Trance in Medical.

"...so anyway, that's all I've managed to get out of Andromeda and Dylan—whadda ya think?"

Trance shrugged, a curious expression gracing her fair features. "All I can say is that it's not something anyone's told me about, that this is the first I've heard of it."

"Yeah but what do you think it might be about?" Had he still retained his organic body, Harper would have by now been bouncing up and down in impatience and anticipation. As things were, such activity was nigh impossible on a screen.

She cocked her head to one side, giving him an odd look. "Dylan said he'd tell you later, right? So, being a machine shop I'd guess that they're building something... something that maybe they're not sure if it will work. Something they don't want to get your hopes up over and then...well, dash them to pieces? Harper, you'll find out anyway—why rush things?"

"'Cause..." Harper paused, uncertain. What was really bothering him?

Ah. That was it. Of course it was.

"Hell, 'cause I'm excited about it already!" he grinned lopsidedly at her.

"I thought so," she winked.

"C'mon Trance," he begged. "Please help me out here? Help out this poor little, unbelievably good-looking dead genius engineer?"

She smiled mischievously, a twinkle in her eye. "Andromeda, engage privacy mode please? Leave Harper's link open."

"Privacy mode engaged. Authorisation: acting-armsmaster Trance Gemini."

"Now," she said, springing up on to an empty bed, resting in a crouch, easily poised on the tips of her toes, "what are you thinking of?"

He materialised his hologram before her and left the screen, his report to Dylan done. "Thought you'd never ask," he said. "I was thinking, if you can get to my old shop and find my toolbelt, there's some stuff in there you'll need, we could—"

"Battle stations!" Andromeda called. "Code Red. Repeat, we have Code Red. All crew, man your battle stations."

"Ah, crap," Harper groaned.

Space split and ruptured as a tear was ripped in it, disgorging a pair of ships before closing once more.

"They're charging weapons!" Andromeda shouted. "I'm reading two Drago-Kazov destroyers—"

She was cut off as they were hit. "We've sustained multiple missile impacts, minor hull breaches on decks nineteen through twenty seven."

"Return fire, all weapons!" Dylan shouted to make himself heard over the explosions.

"We have no offensive missiles or combat drones. AP guns and PDLs will be completely ineffective against their armour and our mid-range missiles are almost completely exhausted," Andromeda's hologram pointed out. "We still haven't rearmed since destroying the Basilisk."

"Remind me to put that on a shopping list and just hit them with whatever you've got. We don't need to destroy them, just make them back off long. Beka, plot a course, get us the hell out of here."

"They're launching assault transports!" Andromeda looked confused. "They have to be insane: why are they risking my defensive weaponry?"

"Why indeed," Dylan muttered.

"Insanity?" Beka offered, fingers dancing across the piloting controls.

"Just let's get out of here," Dylan said.

"Hey guys; Tyr's on his way," Harper announced as he appeared on one of the viewscreens. "Might want to go easy on him; I think his larvae are acting up again." His image winced in involuntary sympathy, and Dylan nodded in acknowledgement. They'd been too late to truly save Harper's life, and troublesome though the Nietzschean sometimes was he hoped they would save him.

The deck shook again, and Andromeda appeared next to Harper. "I'm trying Dylan, but splitting my fire effectively between the destroyers and the transports is growing rapidly more difficult."

"Concentrate on the transports for now, I don't want a single shock trooper setting foot on your decks. How many troop ships are we talking about anyway?"

"There were sixty launched, but only forty-seven remain headed for us. The others are shrapnel or returning to the destroyers with damage...there's too many of them. I'm sorry Dylan, but I won't be able to stop all of them."

"Boss, I could take over operations for some slipfighters, thin 'em out a bit," Harper offered.

"Go for it. Andromeda, transfer flight control for a squadron to Mr. Harper."

Harper grinned to himself as he swam through the data flow and his consciousness entered the slipfighters. A signal from Andromeda indicated that she was opening the hangar bay doors and he swiftly sent her his thanks as he propelled them out into the star-speckled inky blackness.

Splitting his attention between the dozen fighters was something he now found he could perform with considerable ease, a feat that in the days when he'd been alive would have mentally crippled him to the point of a near lobotomy.

He used up almost half a second—an eternity to him—pondering over Andromeda's magnificence in being capable of such focus, how she simultaneously operated thousands of systems under combat conditions and could yet fly every one of the attack craft that nestled within her hangar bays.

He was, Harper decided as he wove the fighters nimbly through the oh-so-slow defensive fire from the troop ships, only too glad to relieve her of some, if only a little, of her weighty burden. He felt a grim sense of exhilaration as he decorated space with a multitude of explosions, his squadron planting precise and neatly accurate shots in amongst the ranks of the troop ships.

What are they doing? he wondered to himself. Although the Dragans were far from geniuses, he also knew from twenty painful unpleasant years' experience on Earth that they weren't that stupid.

There! He espied another, a stray, craftily dodging Andromeda's defensive fire and far out of range of his fighters. He turned the closest wing-pair toward it, hoping that they could stop it. The pilot, whoever they were, was almost at Beka's level of skill—almost, he reaffirmed mentally, and it was not just out of his loyalty for her that her believed that—and Andromeda surely could not stop it, vectoring though she was.

Even as the fighters closed in, he knew he was too late.

The assault transport had latched onto Andromeda's hull.

A bulkhead disintegrated into rubble as a shaped charge was detonated, and half-a-dozen Drago-Kazov troops spilled out of the transport. Though the vessel had the capacity for thrice that number, such a platoon was not required.

Energy blasts and gauss rounds impacted all about them, pitching three of them to the deck even as they rushed onwards. The survivors ignored them, focusing on their mission at hand. Steps had been taken to ensure their genes would survive.

Reaching a conduit, one of the Nietzscheans clambered in, tearing a panel from the wall and opening a pouch on his belt even as his comrades returned fire in vain against the internal defences. Another soldier fell, a great hole gouged in his torso from concentrated fire. His blood and other internal fluids spilled in a great wave upon the deck plates.

The squad's leader worked fast, attaching cables to certain components. He opened another pouch, and inserted the logic chips he found within. The last soldier collapsed, skull shattered, splinters of blood-soaked bone flying everywhere, the damp gristle of his grey matter slopping like spilled soup as he fell heavily to the deck.

Even as the first dozen effectors chewed into his limbs and torso, the squad leader smiled in victory as lights activated on each of the logic chips.

They had succeeded.

The Andromeda would die.

"That's the last of the assault ships, and the boarding party has been eliminated," Andromeda said with not a little satisfaction evident in her tone. "Harper's bringing his squadron back in."

"We'll be clear for slipstream in just twenty seconds!" Beka shouted over the constant pounding of weapons fire.

"Good work people," Dylan congratulated them.

"Slipfighters are aboard, hangar five has been secured for slipstream."

"Thanks Rommie. Slipstream in five...four...three...two...one!"

With that, Beka nudged them forward, and the silver chains of the slipstream grabbed Andromeda and pulled them in.

Among Andromeda's lower decks, a bank of logic chips paused in their flashing of lights. When they began blinking once more, they did so at twice their previous speed.

"Welcome to Gravia, back-alleyway of the universe," Beka grinned as with a minute twitch of her piloting controls they exited the slipstream. "Widely-renowned for having asteroids, gas giants, bits of rock, debris, and oh yeah! Big rocks to hide behind."

"Are you sure we'll be safe here?" Dylan dubiously asked.

"We hid the Maru from some Kalderan raiders in here once. Usually if you see another ship you never admit to having seen them and they never speak of seeing you. One of this place's good points."

"And besides, there's plenty of cover and asteroids galore for li'l Rommie to gobble up and turn into some nice shiny new missiles and drones," Harper grinned as he materialised in hologram form. "What more could you want?"

"A nice High Guard dry-dock," Andromeda sighed wistfully as she materialised her own hologram beside his. "Somewhere I could gossip with the other warships about the latest targeting packages and manoeuvring thruster breakthroughs and get a few tips on how to get my plasma transducers to operate a little more comfortably. Mine keep...well, you could call it tickl—" She broke off, suddenly alert and looking worried.

"Rommie?" Dylan asked. "What is it?"

Her hologram flickered, as did the lights and screens in Command. "Sabotaaaage!" she slurred almost drunkenly. "Systems—systems disrup..."

With that, she vanished.

"R-Rommie?" Harper whispered.

"Just great," Dylan commented, unpleasant memories of Hephaestus surfacing.

"I'm going after her," Harper said, rubbing his 'hands' together. "It won't be long before we start losing life support and stuff like that."

"Harper!" Beka yelled, vaulting the piloting console. "You—just be careful. Watch your ass for viruses and crap, and make sure none of 'em get in your module."

"I will Boss," he grinned as he dematerialised. "Count on it."

Instead of the usually pristine coding 'architecture' that was Andromeda's mind, Harper was mortified to find the place was in chaos.

Severed datastreams flapped loosely, whilst others ripped through the matrix faster than should have been feasible for them. Viral cells were everywhere, clawing and blasting, corrupting data structures and leaving binary ruin in their wake.

One of the cells 'noticed' Harper's presence and sped toward him. He grinned tightly, a feral grin indeed as he focused his mind—

The cell exploded into digital oblivion.

Harper took off, rushing through the matrix, destroying viral cells as they charged him. He knew where he was going.

There it was. That was the place.

Andromeda was doing her considerable best, smashing wave after wave of cells like raindrops against a wall. Harper shouted, trying to alert her to his presence and aid without distracting her focus from her battle. She blinked, a sure sign that she had acknowledged him. In a VR matrix, actions such as blinking were completely unnecessary and without purpose except for as signals.

"Good to have some reinforcements," she grunted, as another dozen cells erupted.

"Hang on a sec," he shouted, diving toward another that was approaching from 'behind' her. "Let's see if this works."

He tackled the cell, inserting his 'hands' through its outer layers of defensive and offensive coding. He focused his mind as best he could—

"Rommie! I need some help here!"

"I tried reprogramming them already, they're too strong for me!"

"Join with me! Team effort, together we can take it!"

A smile bloomed upon her lips. "As we said in my Argosy Special Operations days, Una Salus Victus!"

Harper shook his 'head' as she joined him, infiltrating the cell's coding. "Tell me later."

Together they probed inwards, together they were beset on all sides by the viral cells and their captive's own inner defensive programming.

A light shone forth, gaping through the tear in the captured cell's membranes...

The light, so blinding and pure, flooded the battered matrix...

On Andromeda's Command Centre, all the screens glowed with the light.

He looked about himself, seeing nothing but light—

And Andromeda.

She lay there, so still and lifeless.

Most, particularly Nietzscheans, regarded A.I.'s as little more than dead, cold machines. He'd heard Rommie's stories about Machen Alpha, and he was very glad he'd never left the Maru on that mission.

He did not share this view. To Harper, A.I.'s were alive. The Pax and Balance had most certainly fitted the bill, as the poor Pax had been driven mad by love, the Balance through loss of purpose and eventual hatred.

And Andromeda...

"Rommie?" he asked, crossing to her. The light was disappearing now, gradually becoming replaced with the familiar datastreams of Andromeda's mind. "Rommie, wake up. You've got to be okay, we destroyed the virus."

Still she lay there, much as a corpse might.

He shook his head, banishing that thought that so revolted him. The thought that he feared.

He shook her, hugging her to him. She was cold, but in virtual reality that meant nothing. He was cold, if it came to that, and it didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Rommie, please..." he cried out, his call echoing throughout the matrix, "Rommie, you have to be alive. You have to."

Had he been able to, he would have wept.

He tenderly brushed black bangs from her face as he gently, carefully lay her back down. He wished he could cry so very much, if only so that he might express his grief.

Cradling her head, he slowly leaned down and kissed her lips as lightly as a breeze fresh from the sea.

He bowed his head in defeat.

Light...

Life...

LOVE...

She could feel them all...

She swam towards them, the one who cried out for her...

She surfaced.

She could feel her matrix was back to normal, and she sighed contentedly.

"Rommie!" Upon Harper's cry, her eyes snapped open. "ROMMIE! You—you're alive! You made it!"

She found herself being swept up in his virtual arms, could feel the warmth of his joy.

His love.

She smiled back at his overjoyed expression as she floated from his grasp down to the datastreams once again and wrapped him in a hug. "I am. Thanks to you, I might add."

He grinned at this. "Well, if it weren't for you I wouldn'ta lasted five nanoseconds back there."

She grinned, relaxing slightly.

What a conundrum he was, this engineer of hers! A most pleasant puzzle indeed. One who had given all he could whenever he could for her. One who loved her.

She relaxed further, both into the hug and toward this thought. He truly did love her, she realised. Despite his old regular playfully lewd advances, she knew that these were but a mask for the truth of his love.

And now, he existed in much a similar manner as she.

As he laughed in relief and radiated happiness, she knew, too, that she loved him.

"Harper?" she said, pulling back slightly.

"What is it?"

"This," she smiled warmly, as their lips met.

Author's Note: ARRRRGH! Trying to lose the momentum from my fingers here, they're about ready for orbit...! Ah, that's better. Hell, this is going a lot faster than I thought, but don't worry, I've got plenty of material left. Remember, Tyr's still got eggs and I haven't ref'd 'Into The Labyrinth' or 'Ouroboros' yet. See you soon! And many thanks to the Silver Spider for getting me into this, I've really enjoyed writing this a lot more than I thought I would and I came in with optimistic expectations! Adios from the sunny south of England, Land of Hope and Glory! Buh-bye!

Author's Note 2: Sorry people – I've lost all momentum with my 'Drom fics, so I'm afraid this is the end of the road. Many, many thanks for your interest and support. But I'm afraid real life is in the way of any future fanfic endeavours. hands out Rommie and Harper plushies You've all been great, you really have. Be seeing you, and all the best of luck to you all!