Disclaimer: I don't own Andromeda or its characters and I am making no money from this story. Wish I was but I'm not.

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Chapter 6

As Harper briefed Paris on finer points of Earth survival, the engineer noticed his companion was having trouble staying awake. "I know you're tired but try staying awake."

Paris stifled a yawn as he stretched his arms above his head. "I am a little tired, but I'll try to stay awake. Do you mind if I ask why we're supposed to stay awake?"

Harper pulled a can of Sparky Cola from a pocket in his cargo pants before answering, "There's a lot of bad people around here who wouldn't think twice about killing us in our sleep."

"That makes sense. I just wish things weren't so rough down here. Not so much for me, but for all the other people here," Paris replied, thinking of the Sinclair family.

Harper gazed into Paris' eyes with a fierce look upon seeing the pity in the lieutenant's face. "The Sinclairs and the rest of us don't want your or anybody else's pity. We just want a fair shake. No more, no less."

"Yeah, they deserve to keep their dignity," Paris agreed. "The Sinclairs said they had heard of you. I gather you were in some kind of resistance organization while you lived here."

Harper finished off his can of Sparky before responding, "Yeah, I was a member of a lot of groups. The resistance movement was okay, but I realized they didn't stand a snowball's chance in you know where of succeeding. It also didn't pay squat. I left them and pretty much joined any group that would take me in and feed me. I wasn't too picky." The engineer was surprised he had opened up so much to the man sitting next to him.

"I can't say as I wouldn't have done the same thing in your place," Paris replied.

The vivid memories that came flooding back into Harper's mind caused him to stand up. . "Yeah well, it's not exactly something I'm proud of, but I didn't want to die on this stinking rock."

Paris leaned back against the cold hard wall behind him. "I'm sorry Harper. I can tell it's not easy for you being back here on Earth. I appreciate what you're doing. If you don't mind my asking, how did you get here so fast?

"Q sent me here to help you out. His son is the one who sent you here and me to Voyager. Q said the kid might send me back at any time and I won't know when."

"I had my suspicions that Q's son was behind all of this," Paris remarked.

Harper produced another can of Sparky and handed it off to Paris, hoping the cola would help keep the helmsman awake. "Yeah, the kid definitely has issues. Drink the Sparky. It'll help you stay awake."

Paris tentatively took a sip of the cola, scrunching up his face at the taste. The Sparky was too sweet and had a strange aftertaste. "Are you sure you don't have some kind of substitute?'

"A can of Sparky is the best thing out there, so long as you don't navigate the slipstream or operate heavy machinery," Harper answered with a smile.

Paris chuckled at the warning. Sparky didn't actually taste that dangerous, but it was definitely giving him a buzz. "Harper, do you mind talking some more? It'll help me stay awake."

Harper stifled a yawn and shrugged. "No problem. What do you want to talk about?"

Paris thought for a moment before answering, "How about our jobs? What made you decide to be an engineer?"

"I don't remember every deciding to be an engineer. I've always been good at fixing thing and when Beka came along she hired me as the Maru's engineer," Harper answered as he produced another can of Sparky.

Paris's face registered his mild surprise at what Harper had left out. "Didn't you have any formal training to become an engineer?"

Harper shifted uncomfortably at the question. "Nah, the Ubers didn't see any need for us Kludges getting an education. We're just slave fodder to them."

Paris immediately felt a twinge of guilt for having asked the question, as innocent as the question seemed. "Oh, hey I'm sorry. I didn't mean to open up old wounds like that."

"It's okay, I'm good," Harper replied. He wasn't going to wallow in self- pity right now. "Now let's not start a pity party here. How about I ask you a question?"

"Fair enough. Ask away," Paris replied.

Harper was ready with the question. It wasn't original though. "Okay, did you always want to be a Starfleet officer?"

Paris wasn't sure of the answer. He really couldn't remember for sure if the idea to join Starfleet was solely his own or his father's. "I don't really know how to answer that Harper. You see, my father is a well- respected Starfleet admiral, so I guess he always planned for me to go to Starfleet Academy and follow in his footsteps. I don't remember hating the idea, at least not until I actually got into Starfleet and realized everybody expected me to be like my father. They expected a lot from me."

"So why did you stay? Wouldn't your father have understood?" Harper asked, intrigued by Tom Paris' personal story.

"You have to know my father. He's no nonsense. If I quit he would have seen it a sign of weakness; like I was quitting because things got too tough. He wouldn't have understood that I just wanted to get out from under his shadow," Paris explained through a yawn.

Harper contemplated the helmsman's relationship his father for a few moments. "I guess certain things remain the same in all of the parallel universes."

Paris realized he sounded like he had been complaining about his past. "I didn't mean to sound like a whiner. I know I didn't have it tough. I must sound like a spoiled brat."

Harper smiled and dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "Hey, I didn't take it like you were complaining Paris. Is your father still alive?"

"Yeah, he's back on Earth waiting for me to get home," Paris answered. The helmsman preferred not to talk too much about his father. Their relationship had healed somewhat but was still strained. "So, are you folks still alive Harper?"

Harper flinched at the question, looking as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Paris could see the anger in Harper's blue eyes and prepared to get a punch in the jaw. The punch or any other violent action never came from the engineer. Harper recovered and put on his façade once again. The façade that Paris' innocent question had just pulled down, ever so briefly.

"I'm sorry Harper. I didn't mean to open up a sensitive topic. I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth," Paris apologized.

"Don't sweat it," Harper replied nonchalantly. "To answer your question; my folks and pretty much all of my relatives are dead, either by the Nietzscheans or the Magog."

Paris wondered why Harper sounded so cold and distant just now in speaking of his family. It couldn't have been from lack of caring. Paris knew Harper cared must have cared deeply about his family. It must be the façade again. Harper wouldn't let anybody see him in pain. It must have been how the blond engineer survived around the superior Nietzscheans. Showing any tears or remorse would be considered a sign of weakness by the Nietzscheans who disposed of anybody they perceived as weak.

Paris decided to change the subject. "Aren't we a pair of idiots? Why are we here talking about depressing stuff? I have some wild stories to tell about my time in Starfleet and I'm sure you've have your share of stories to tell."

"Oh now don't tell me you did something like steal a rival mascot or something?" Harper groaned with mock annoyance.

Paris chuckled. He was glad the tactic worked. "Oh no, that was for those cadets lacking in imagination."

The conversation was cut short by the sound of explosions above ground. Harper immediately stood up and tried to determine the origin of the explosions. Soon Paris could hear the familiar sound of gunfire.

"What's going on Harper?" Paris asked as stood up next to Harper.

"Nietzscheans. Let's go!" Harper ordered as he headed down the tunnel.