Warning parts of this are a bit gory
Thank you for all the reviews …you guys rock!
Thanks for Eljay being my beta reader ((hugs))
"On screen," Dylan shouted as Andromeda was buffeted with another barrage torpedoes.
"Shields are down to 60," barked Rev Bem holding on to his station panel for balance.
"There are hull breaches on levels 18 and 19," Trance squeaked as she ducked the sparks from a nearby panel.
"On Screen," Andromeda stated calmly.
"Rekeeb!? What the hell is going on? " Dylan practically growled at the screen. A few hours ago they had received a communication from Beka. She and Tyr were on Harper's trail. Now someone he thought an ally was pounding his hull. It didn't take Dylan long to deduce that Rekeeb must have followed the message courier to them. The thing he couldn't figure out is why Rekeeb wanted to destroy them. "There is no response to your hail, Captain," replied Rommie curtly.
Dylan hated nothing more than being out of the loop. He slammed his hand on the monitor before him. "He may not want to talk to me but I'll make him listen. Rommie, prep full defensive missiles, tubes one through fourteen. Fire!"
The darkness, that once had been lit by only sparkling stars, was ablaze. Dylan Hunt had had enough of half-truths and betrayals. He was about to get his answers and he was willing to destroy anything that stood in his path.
Harper swayed lightly on the chains that held him aloft. The pain kept him awake but his mind had run from it. If he had ever been a boy he was no longer. All that was child-like had fled along with all hope for what his future held. He was sure that whatever was coming was going to be bad.
He was empty. He was done.
A cold draft interrupted his thoughts. He heard laughter and jeers swirl around his head but they meant nothing. Words, just words…he was past hearing them. Past feeling their sting. Pain was life. Life was pain. It was the one thing he seemed able to focus on.
A finger poked him in his chest causing him to swing. The pain in his arms flared and he became hyper aware of his surroundings. He groaned despite himself. He preferred oblivion.
"Do you know who I am, boy, or have all your senses left you? You are weaker than I thought. It's been a mere six hours."
It was Bacchus. Harper knew it without a doubt, even with his eyes closed.
The Nietzschean stopped his swinging and pulled him close. "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!?"
"Bacchus," his voice rasped with all the disdain he could muster. "Bacchus, the orphan."
Seamus' captor stepped back with a barked laugh. Then he spun wildly, back-fisting Harper across the right ear. There was a loud popping noise and Seamus screamed. He screamed for his mother, he screamed for Beka. He screamed, wanting to die.
He cracked his eyes open but he was so dizzy. His stomach churned. "Please," he whimpered, unsure of what he was asking for.
Then he realized his voice hadn't sounded quite right. He could see Bacchus. He seemed to be yelling but all he could hear was whispers. "Oh, Gawd," he moaned. "Please," he begged now without shame. "I can't hear you! I can't hear you! Please I just want to go home! I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry."
The Nietzschean stepped close and spoke directly in to Harper's left ear. "This is your home now boy, and you will be a great deal sorrier still."
"I said I was sorry." He couldn't tell if it was blood from his sore ear or tears that dripped off his chin. And if it were possible, he fell even deeper in to despair. Bacchus continued to rant but Harper heard nothing of it and his thought drifted away.
Before he could make his final escape, a metal cup pushed against his teeth. He tried to turn away but a hand on the back of his neck held him still.
"When was the last time you had liquid? You must be thirsty." Bacchus spoke loudly on his left.
Harper could care less what is it was and gulped greedily. It was milk. Cold milk. After only a few meager gulps the cup was taken away. He strained after it but found no relief.
Harper didn't even have the strength left to open his eyes.
The cup returned and once again he sucked at it eagerly. He drank most of the cup before he realized; Bacchus had added vinegar to the milk.
The milk soured in his belly instantly. His eyes sprung open instantly. He had no control. He couldn't even bend over so as not to soil what was left of his clothes.
He choked and gagged. He couldn't seem to stop. Just when he thought he was done there was more. The rooms started to grow dim as he continued to gag. Finally, some words did break through his fog of discomfort. "You will be punished."
"I will be punished," he agreed mindlessly through cracked lips.
Bile dripped down his chin as his stomach attempted yet another purging. Unfortunately, in every sense of the word he was empty and his stomach heaved helplessly. His eyes drooped to half-mast.
A sharp blow from a blunt object sent him swinging in his chains. Someone was screaming. It took Seamus a moment to realize it was his own voice that echoed through the small room. It startled him that he could barley hear it. He hung limply on one arm, the arm the arm with the skewer through it. His legs and his other arm now refused to support him.
Again he was struck. He heard bones cracking near his ear as his shoulder gave way.
His stomach heaved but this time it was blood that dripped down his chin not bile.
Someone grabbed his hair and pulled him forward.
A voice rough and full of menace whispered in his ear. "You have been punished, child. Your scars shall bear witness to you crimes and serve as a warning to others. Do not cross me again!"
His chains were unlocked and he crumpled to the floor. Despite the heat he shivered. The darkness filled his sight and as unconsciousness came he wished for nothing. No fields of golden grass or women with soft voices would enter his dreams.
Beka sat on the back steps of the Harper house watching the sunset. The golden colours were amazing. She did her best to be unimpressed. She didn't want to like this place. She wanted to get Harper and fly him the hell out of here.
Tyr sat in a rickety old chair in the doorway behind her. He would shift every so often and she could hear the chair squeak.
She started to speak as if he wasn't there. She wasn't sure if what she wanted to do was right but she needed to say it out loud. "Whether or not he wants to, I'm taking him away from this Tyr. He deserves better. His parents aren't coming back and I won't abandon him here."
Tyr said nothing in response.
"This isn't his home any more--we're his family now. He belongs on the Andromeda."
"Are you sure it's what is best for him?"
Beka sighed. "I've though about it a lot. What's best for him, I mean. And I don't think I can offer him the perfect home. God knows, my family was messed up. I grew up on a cargo hauler for Pete's sake. So maybe I can't offer him the perfect home. But I can offer him a better one."
Tyr leaned forward in his chair but Beka ignored his closeness until he spoke into her ear. "I don't think he worries about accommodations. The boy would live in a shack if you told him you would never leave him."
Beka gasped and turned to look Tyr in the eye. "I can't promise him that. We live dangerous lives…I-"
Tyr raised his hand and put it against her lips, stopping her protests midstream. "Beka Valentine, I would have never thought of you as a mother. A leader, a warrior, yes; but a mother, no. It simply did not seem to suit you. Yet, when I see you with him I see kindred spirits. Whether you would admit it or not you need him as much as he needs you. You needn't promise him the moon; for the young professor, I think it would be enough if you said that you would try."
Soft voices were the first to break through the fog. They swirled around his brain like flies…annoying but not enough to attempt to shoo them away. He felt hot, sick. His arm hurt, his ear hurt; hell, everything hurt. He should get up but he couldn't quite remember why.
Something tugged at his feet. The flies were getting stronger but there was nothing he could do about it right now. He let the darkness carry him away and at least the nightmares were familiar.
Time passed. He was sure of it, but it was an elusive thing. His eyes felt pasted closed and it took a concerted effort to open them. Yet, seemingly they were open before he was even aware of it. He felt so dazed. He wasn't even aware of what his own body was doing anymore.
Everything seemed so confusing; so jumbled.
He stayed very still. Pain and heat radiated from his body and for now he wanted to stay quiet and small. If he could have, he would have liked to disappear in to the floor. He wished the Nietzcheans had killed him. He had let everyone down, even himself. He was worthless.
Being numb was the only comfort he could find so he allowed himself to be so for quite a while.
His stomach woke him in time. It gurgled in protest. He rolled on his side but dry heaves seemed to be the order of the day. God his ribs hurt.
After a while when he was able to recover a bit, he started to take note of his surroundings. He was lying on the ground again but at least he wasn't in …in that room still.
He shuddered despite himself.
Slowly he let his crusted eyes flicker around what appeared to be some sort of holding cell. There were other people here…. Lots of them. There was dirt and cement and very little light. There was a small barrel with a fire in it. Some people seemed to huddle around it while others sat in various small groups against the walls. Everyone seemed to keep a wide berth around him though. It was probably because he was sick.
It was then he noticed there was a man sitting near him, not three feet from where he lay is head. Seamus flinched, a knee-jerk reaction he had to strangers being so close. He tried to push himself up and away but pain rippled instantly through his shoulders. It felt like his arm were being ripped from his body. What he had meant to be a stealthy escape left him moaning and flopping around like a fish.
"Shh," the man whispered and he placed an over-sized meaty hand on Harper's head. Seamus froze in terror. His heart was the only thing moving and it was running faster the Rommie in slipstream. "Just breathe," the voice commanded. Harper gasped, he hadn't even been aware that he had been holding is breath. "Calm," the man ordered.
Stars floated before his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. "I'm…" he paused to gasp for air. "Where… you…" It was useless; he had lost the ability to form complete thoughts, never mind sentences.
"Stay, calm and breathe. The others won't like it if you are excitable. It'll mean trouble."
Harper lay still for a moment fighting his panic. "I – I can hear you. Who are you?" He finally managed to ask.
"Little more then a messenger, boy. You can hear me with your left ear but your right needs repair. My name is Jacob, I'm a friend of your father's. "
Seamus gasped with surprise and struggled to a sitting position with Jacob's help. His limbs burned but he ignored it the best he could. "My father? You know my father!? Is he here? My Mom? Dad?" Harper called desperately.
"Hush, He's not here. Like I said I'm da messenger. I told your Pa I'd look in on you and see if you're breathing. I put your arm back in the socket. I wrap your head, arm and ribs and now…. I pass you da message." The man talked low, and slow. He had a bit of a strange accent as well. Seamus couldn't quite place it. It was hard to hear him at times but the man was right, if he tilted his good ear forward it was easier to hear.
Harper shook his head trying to control his wandering thoughts. "Where is he? My Father? Is he okay?"
"He's a tough one, your Pa. He's got himself in lock up for attacking the pit boss. He won't get out for 30 days. So I promised I'd check on you. He says you're to behave yourself. Listen to me and listen to da rules. He'll come for you when he can. Keep your head low."
"How did he know I was here?"
It was Jacob's turn to look surprised. "Are you nuts boy? All da Kludges know about you. You killed da Big Boss's Sire. Everyone knows, now he catches you and sticks you down here. Make you pay. But we are already paying; we all pay for what you done."
"I didn't really kill him I was just sort of there," moaned Harper. His head was starting to thump again and he was getting tired.
Jacob helped him lie down on the cool cement. "It's okay, we don't mind--we are all proud. A small pup like you can inspire great things. Your Pop is awful proud."
Harper couldn't help but give a small smile. His Dad was here and he was going to come get him. Just like before. His smile grew a bit bigger. His Dad was proud of him. It was funny how such a little thing could give him hope again.
"Sleep now, boy. For tomorrow your work in da factory will begin. Even I can't protect you from that."
"Captain, incoming hail," announced Rommie amid the noise of the battle.
"About time," Dylan grunted nearly to himself.
Rev Bem shot him a glance of concern but Dylan didn't have time for that at the moment. "On screen, Rommie."
Rekeeb's face filled the large forward monitor. "Good day Captain."
"Rekeeb, what the HELL is going on!?"
"Why I'm afraid, dear Captain, that I'm trying to kill you and destroy your pretty ship. It would be oh so helpful if you would play along." As if on cue, Dylan's station blew, sending him ducking for cover and the filling the nearby area with debris and smoke.
"Oh dear, this would have been quicker if you hadn't jumped away."
Dylan picked himself up. His face was red and his voice spoke of menace. "Before I kick your ass and send you back to Sinti in a casket I just want to know one thing."
"Dylan!" Rev Bem admonished, but once again he was ignored.
Rekeeb gave a sinister smile and nodded.
"Why, why would you do this? You killed Hohne. Half my crew is missing. My ship is in pieces. Why?" Dylan waved his arms dramatically. "Why?"
As Dylan kept Rekeeb talking he motioned at Rommie's android body with a hand behind his back.
Rommie gave him a puzzled glance, but it quickly gave way to understanding. Without even a nod off acknowledgment she quickly sidled up to one of the working panels.
Rekeeb never noticed and continued on with his lecture. "Well Dear Captain, you are putting a lot of motions in to force. As you know, physics--science--is the true god. Because I can control science, because I understand its inner-most workings, that makes me the god of the god."
"You're insane!" Dylan glared at him incredulously.
Rekeeb actually giggled. "Well, I think the term you are looking for is mad."
Dylan gave a brief flicker of his eyes back to Rommie who nodded furtively.
Dylan turned back to Rekeeb with a bark of laughter and a wave of his hand. "And, why would a self-proclaimed higher being such as your self stoop down to bother with us?"
"Because dear boy," Rekeeb cackled with glee, "You are the catalyst. Where would any good scientist be without a catalyst? I can't believe you haven't figured it out yourself! You're not nearly as smart as the pet kludge you picked up."
Dylan growled at the screen, "You're not making any sense."
"You may just be too simple to understand it. I think the boy knew. I think even the Nietzschean has a clue. It's why he took the boy," Rekeeb gloated.
"You don't know anything," Dylan spit at the screen.
"Don't I?" smiled the Persied. "You are a man out of your time Dylan Hunt. Because of that, you are setting into motion things that should not be."
Dylan heard Trance gasp behind him and he spun to see her running from the command deck. "Trance!?"
"See now even the purple girl knows what you do not."
"I'm getting awfully sick of your riddles, Rekeeb."
Rommie stood at the ready waiting for the word from her Captain.
"You maybe the catalyst, Captain Hunt, but you are also the contagion. The Commonwealth must not be restored. And the Nietzcheans cannot be allowed to become one, an indivisible force working with you. As it is, the Nietzschean, Tyr, has already reclaimed the bones. I can not allow you to be the dominating force." Rekeeb slammed his hand down to emphasize his point. "I will not allow a band of criminals and a man out of touch with his time to lead us into the future. Your ideas are archaic and dangerous. You will destroy us all."
Dylan gave a small smile. "No; only you. ROMMIE NOW!"
To be concluded.