Andromeda's pov:

After Harper sent the signal from inside the slipfighter, I opened my docking bay doors. Let Trance believe he influenced me. That I am manipulatable. All important individuals involved know the truth of the plan.

I send my hologram to find Tyr as Dylan is still unfit to command.

I find Tyr leaning over my avatar's still form when I coalesce. He seems to be evaluating the damage caused to her systems by Trance's secret weapon; some sort of energy pulse that overloaded Rommie's circuits. I am not certain. Scanners could not identify it and what my cameras registered is not in my databank records of the whole of Commonwealth history.

He does not look up at my arrival. He wipes at the dried blood on my avatar's chin with more tenderness than I would have ever attributed to him.

After an appropriate pause, I clear my throat in a gesture humans use to attract attention.

He looks up quickly, brown eyes momentarily soft with emotion. He masks it quickly with Nietzschean bravado. "Report?" he barks, rubbing the flakes of blood on his fingertips off onto his pants like so much dirt.

"I have allowed them to escape, as planned. Though, there is a slight snag."

When I paused, as I am programmed to do for optimal human interaction, he turned to glare at me. "Now," he snapped, standing quickly.

Nietzscheans have no patience for pauses. "Trance has found and disabled the transmitter."

He squeezed his eyes shut, body sagging like a deflating balloon. "We lost them?"

I cock my head. How very biologic of him to think I would fail so easily. "Of course not. The virus is leaving my systems. I have the slipfighter on long range scan. I do recommend we follow them before they enter a slip-point."

He breaks into a smile, a real shining teeth, wide-eyed smile. I hate to strip it away.

"He didn't do it."

"What are you blathering about?" The smile melts away as caution fills his dark eyes.

"Tara' Han. He never entered the co-ordinates to the Gorgonyte homeworld. We'll have to follow them and we're running out of time. In addition, the slipfighter is heading toward the Vielston Darkness. The void. No stars. No communications. No life. They may jump before they reach it. They may jump after. I have no way to predict with certainty."

"Surely they aren't insane enough to cross a navigational void to reach the homeworld?"

I shrug, purse my lips. "That's debatable."

He glares at me.

"The void is narrow. Scarcely one parsec across. But it's dangerous nonetheless."

"And we could easily lose them."

"Yes."

He sighs heavily, eyes darting around the corridor as he thinks over the possibilities. "Is there more?" he asks, and I can tell his strength will be buoyed by more good news. We can use his strength at the moment since he is the closest thing to a captain I have...until Beka recovers more.

"Beka's sight is returning. She is rapidly approaching half-functionality. She administered the antidote to Dylan, though his condition is still guarded. He hasn't shown improvement yet, but his condition has stopped deteriorating. I expect he will recover enough to--recover enough to walk around within twenty-four hours."

"And you?"

"I am now at three-quarters capacity thanks to Harper and..." Must I admit it? "The Gorgonyte."

"Good." He turns and starts to jog toward the Command Deck.

"Tyr?" I call after him. He turns, jogging backward, not slowing. "My avatar?"

"The little man will have to fix her. I have no skill with toys."

I stand there gazing down at her for a long time. My mainframe will assist Tyr. Beka will nursemaid Dylan. We will follow them through the void, if they choose that path.

I squat down beside my avatar. Her eyes are open, staring. It is a disconcerting feeling to see the image of oneself dead. My emotional capacity is extremely limited. I know my mainframe would say I am being irrationally sentimental. But I miss Rommie. She is vivid and exciting, in a way, as are biologics themselves.

Her chest cavity is torn, exploded outward as if an unbearable bubble burst from within. Laying my hand lightly on her outer shell, I perform a diagnostic. Her damage is not irrepairable.

"Leave it to Harper," I mutter in disgust. "He won't be back for a long time."

If you want something done, sometimes you just have to do it yourself. I summon a mariabot to be my hands and begin repairing myself.

A few moments later, I feel the drive kick in and we begin our pursuit.

TBC.