Disclaimer: I do not own any of Andromeda's characters; if I did, would I be writing fanfiction? I think not. It all belongs to Tribune…or some sort of tv company thing. Anyway, it's not mine. This is written purely for entertainment. Enjoy.
Filial Piety
Part 2
Dylan looked down at the words on the paper in his hand and frowned. Beside him walked Rhade, matching his long strides with ease.
"It could be a lucrative deal…if he doesn't try to kill us, that is." The Nietzschean said with a small smile. Dylan glanced up briefly and murmured in agreement. His attention wandered as they walked on the outskirts of the main town of Seefra 1. They were headed for the bar and looked forward to a drink after their long and dusty journey.
Just as they were passing the edge of a small forest something caught Dylan's eye. He paused, unsure of what he was looking at and Rhade stopped to wait for him.
"What is it?"
"I don't know," Dylan replied in answer. He squinted into the trees; there, a form had moved. It was a human. He put out a cautionary hand as Rhade peered forward. The figure came towards them. The men stiffened with wariness, but then Rhade suddenly relaxed with a quiet laugh.
"It's just a boy." The figure came to an open area close to them and stopped. Dylan saw that Rhade had been right; it was just a boy, a teenager, or close to that age. The way he carried himself made Dylan think he was older than he looked. His clothing was strange too. A heavy cloak, shirt, tunic, breeches, and boots made of fine material but worn by travel. His hair was dark and cropped short, the back ending at the nape of the boy's neck, the curls framing his pale angular face. It was his eyes that caught Dylan's eye and held it. They were a bright electric blue.
"You don't look like you're from around here," Rhade called out in his usual welcoming demeanor. Dylan frowned at his companion slightly and said quickly,
"Are you alone? This isn't a great place to become lost in." He tried to sound friendly but the boy stared at him solemnly.
"If I were lost I would not tell you so." This caught Dylan by surprise, and Rhade as well. Barking a laugh, Rhade took a step forward, his arms crossed in amusement.
"If you're not lost, then what are you doing out here?" The boy eyed the Nietzschean with a calm gaze.
"Perhaps the same thing as you."
"I doubt that," Dylan raised his eyebrows at the boy's words, and yet he felt drawn to the stranger.
"I am looking for someone. A man." Clearly he did not mean to elaborate more, and Dylan exchanged curious looks with Rhade.
"Are you sure you're looking in the right place?"
"Or on the right planet?" Rhade muttered under his breath. For barely a moment a flicker of doubt crossed the boy's face, and then once more he looked at them steadily.
"I am sure."
"Then you should come with us; we're headed for the city, the bar actually, and you're more likely to find whoever you're looking for there than out here."
The boy seemed to consider Dylan's words carefully, and after a minute he nodded.
"I thank you for your help." Again Dylan raised his eyebrows. The words were said with a magnanimity that made him certain the boy was not from anywhere near Seefra. Rhade was no less suspicious, for as the boy descended towards them he moved quickly to try and trip him. In one smooth motion, faster than the blink of an eye, the boy turned his fall into a roll and arose facing them; a gleaming dagger in each hand. Rhade smiled while Dylan stared in amazement.
"I would gladly buy you a drink in exchange for learning where and how you were taught such things," Rhade proclaimed. The boy slowly lowered his daggers and tucked them away, once again hidden beneath the dark cloak. He gave a slight bow, his eyes still on Rhade.
"I would be most grateful." In truth he had neither eaten nor drank for days, wary of the strange food he'd seen, and timid of talking to the alien people he'd encountered since he'd begun his journey.
The three walked in an uncomfortable silence the rest of the way. Dylan longed to ask the boy questions but had a feeling they would not be answered. He did notice, however, as they entered the bustling, dusty city, that the boy looked about him with wide eyes that keenly observed everything around him. Obviously he had not been to Seefra 1 before. So where, Dylan mused silently, had he come from?
The cool shade of the bar was a welcome relief from the hot sun. It was crowded this time of day, but near the counter Rhade and Dylan saw Trance and Doyle standing on either side of Beka, who was playing a game of cards, as usual. The two women –or rather, Trance and the android- watched Beka with a mixture of interest and boredom, the latter the most obvious.
"Hey Captain…and Rhade…welcome back." Standing up from behind the bar Harper lifted a crate of bottles onto the counter, grinning at the two newcomers, who returned his greeting with varied enthusiasm. Hearing him, the three women also looked up and smiled or, in Trance's case, waved a hello.
"I hope you've been winning Beka, I could sure use a drink." Dylan groaned with exhaustion and pulled up a chair next to her.
"I pity you, Dylan, if you have to rely on Beka's winnings for a drink." Rhade said with a smirk. Leaning against the counter he added over his shoulder,
"A glass of your finest Harper."
"Coming right up…though you'd better be able to pay this time Rhade, I'm running out of paper to write out your tab." Harper replied wryly.
"What's with the kid?" While the others had laughed over Harper and Rhade's exchange, Doyle had watched the boy who'd followed behind Dylan, and her curiosity grew as his gaze locked on Harper. Something about him made her uneasy, and she shifted to she could reach her gun with greater ease.
"Friend of yours?" Beka asked doubtfully, also eyeing the strange young person. He didn't seem to hear their words, or if he did, he ignored them, and slowly approached the counter. Harper, unperturbed by the boy's strange gaze, tossed a towel over his shoulder and grinned.
"Sorry kid, I don't serve minors." Harper joked. The boy didn't answer. Quietly Dylan explained to the others how he and Rhade had come upon him in the woods, and the others turned to look at him with interest.
"Are you, by any chance, Seamus Harper?" The boy's voice was odd, and though the words were perfectly polite, they seemed hard to speak. As one, Dylan and the others turned to stare at him in disbelief. The only thing any of them could think of to explain the unknown boy's strange words was that somehow he had met Harper during the three years when their engineer had been alone in the Seefra System.
"Yeah, that's me." Their theory was quickly dispelled by Harpers slow and obviously surprised tone.
"Seamus Zelazny Harper?" The boy's breath caught in his throat.
"Yes, why do you ask?" Blatant suspicion and curiosity was easily seen on Harper's face.
"I just wanted to make sure I killed the right person." No sooner had these words left his mouth than the boy jumped over the counter. The others hadn't made out his whisper and merely stared in amusement. Their mirth at seeing Harper attacked by a child quickly died; the boy was fast, almost too fast for their eyes to watch, and as he'd sprung over the counter daggers had flashed, with a strange black tint dimming light instead of reflecting it, into each of his hands.
Beka stood up uncertainly and wondering if she should be alarmed or if this wasn't as serious as it looked.
Harper had stumbled to the side as the boy had jumped, tripping over his feet and ducking as the daggers swung towards him.
"You probably don't recognize me," In spite of his speed the boy was not breathing hard and he spoke easily without slowing down. Harper could barely pay attention to them since he was concentrating on the daggers that were flying at him from all sides.
"But perhaps my name might mean something to you. Mother said it would." He kicked out and Harper didn't move fast enough; it sent him crashing into the wall on his back, staring up at the boy, who was at least four inches shorter than he -and who was currently moving in front of him.
"My name is Keary. Hello Father." None of this made any sense to Harper.
"Who the hell are you?" He looked for any of his friends, and saw only Doyle and Beka with raised guns, trying to get an aim that wouldn't hit Harper as well as the boy but both seeming reluctant to shoot until they knew how serious this fight was. It was hard to believe that some child would come out of nowhere just to hurt Harper.
"Strange though," Keary commented as he stood over Harper, staring down at him. "You don't look at all like Mother described," He shrugged one shoulder, as if shaking off his doubts. Harper's concern grew and he scrambled to his feet; he'd gotten out of close scrapes before, but he was rusty at it, and he wasn't used to assailants with hand weapons. Quick though he was at jumping to his feet and leaping forward to dive and roll, the boy was faster.
The sound and feel of it was different from how Keary had imagined. The squishing noise nauseated him, though he struggled not to show it. He'd had only to take one lightning quick step to be in front of the man as he'd jumped up and sped forward; unfortunately for him, right onto Keary's left dagger. Somewhere behind him somebody gasped; all else was the silent sound of disbelief. The blonde haired man slowly looked down at the dagger piercing him in the stomach. And then slowly he looked up to stare at Keary in confusion and pain.
He looked down at his hand and felt dizzy with dismay. The golden-haired man in front of him was staring at him with wide eyes; eyes that, if he had looked closely, were his own. With a sharp jerk he pulled his arm back and the man slowly sank to his knees. He had done It; he had completed his mission. Smiling grimly he twisted to give the last few strikes when the sound of gunfire startled him. His daggers were blown from his grasp and he frowned.
"Get the hell away from him!" A woman hissed. He turned and, to his surprise, saw four weapons pointed at him. Something was wrong. His father was supposed to be unprotected but for his own power. Something was very wrong.
The two men who had found him rushed forward, as did a woman in pink clothing and the blonde woman who'd shouted at him. He stepped back, suddenly unsure. But no; the man had said he was Seamus Zelazny Harper, and that was the name of his father, whom he was supposed to kill.
While he stood back, looking on in confusion, Doyle and Trance knelt on either side of Harper, who was struggling for breath.
"Will he live?" Beka asked with a pained expression. Trance gave her a worried look.
"We need to get him back to the Andromeda fast," was all she'd say. No one pointed out that Andromeda's med deck had no fresh supplies nor did anyone voice their doubts about Trance's ability to heal. While Rhade helped Doyle lift Harper and carry him out of the bar, Beka and Dylan stood in front of the boy with raised weapons.
"Who are you?" Dylan asked in an ominous voice. Keary stared back, keeping himself from shaking or looking nervous. His mother had told him that his father would be alone and friendless, and he had to believe that she had been right.
"What do you care?" He turned as if to leave but suddenly the woman stormed forward and shoved the point of the gun into his chest. Her face was livid.
"I care you little-"
"Beka!" Dylan said sharply; they wouldn't learn anything if she killed him. But Beka didn't want to hear it. Keeping the gun point at the boy's chest she turned back to Dylan.
"Excuse me, Captain, but in case you didn't notice he tried to kill Harper, one of our crewmates; not to mention our friend! And he damn well nearly succeeded."
"Nearly?" Keary blinked. The woman was shaking and he had no doubt that she would kill him if she wished to, but her concern puzzled him.
"I'm afraid you don't understand," Keary made sure to hold his gaze, as his hands slowly lowered.
"I'm his son."
That seemed to take them by surprise; while they stared at him with disbelief he loosed his sword and swung it at the woman in front of him. She cursed and jumped back, narrowly missing being sliced. He dived towards the counter, not sure of where he was planning on going but knowing he had to get away, for now.
"Oh no you don't," Dylan had raced towards the door the moment Keary had moved and just managed to tackle him before the boy got away. It was all he could do to restrain the smaller figure and he was very nearly skewered. Beka came up behind him and pulled the sword away, helping to hold him down. The rest of the patrons in the bar had either left or were watching in dull amusement, but offered neither help nor hindrance.
There was a soft whir and then Beka had her gun pressed to the boy's temple, ready to fire.
"I would stay very, very still, if I were you," She hissed under her breath. Slowly she began to rise and Keary, making sure to move no faster than she did, rose with her.
"Who are you people?" Keary asked again.
"We're friends of the man you almost killed," Beka said with a hard voice.
"But that's not possible! My father has no friends!" Dylan and Beka were surprised at the bitterness in his voice and looked at one another over his head.
"Well, Harper has no son, so you must have gotten the wrong person." Dylan finally replied. Keary gave a small shake of his head but remained silent.
"Alright, let's take him to Andromeda," Dylan ordered with a shrug. Anger burning in her eyes, Beka nudged the boy forward, with Dylan walking beside him in case he tried to run.
Of the three Keary was perhaps the most confused. His mother had told him that his father was powerful; a dark and evil man who was hated by all. Instead he'd come face to face with a man hardly taller than himself, with a quick laugh and friendly smile. He could look over all that; no doubt it had been some sort of disguise, but these people claimed to be his friends. The only answer he could come up with was that they were servants of the man he'd killed and most likely their life was bound to his, which would explain why they had fought to protect him.
He felt comforted after working all this out in his mind. It made sense, and although things had not gone quite the way he had imagined in his mind for the past five years, he had completed his mission nonetheless. He had no fear of injury; his mother would come to fetch him soon, and then they would leave that wretched planet in search of somewhere more suitable.
Dylan and Beka noticed how calm the boy grew but made no mention of it. They held their thoughts and questions for a better time and place.
"How is he Trance?" Dylan paused on the threshold of the Med Deck; a sudden rush of déjà vu having come over him as he'd said the words. Trance took no notice of his hesitation; Doyle was standing over the bed on which Harper's prone form lay.
"I don't know Dylan, but it doesn't look good. There's something else that was wrong, he's suffering from something more than just a knife wound." Trance looked worried; her eyes flitted from one side of the room to the other as though searching for the answer or tool to her questions.
"He's still unconscious," Doyle said softly as Dylan came to stand beside her. Seeing his friend Dylan felt a sharp pang of guilt and worry. Harper looked devastatingly unwell; his skin was pale but yellowish and the rim around his eyes was also a sickly yellow. Although he was unaware of his surroundings, Harper muttered unintelligible words and his fingers and legs occasionally made jerking motions. The wound in his stomach was still pouring blood despite Trance's attempts to stem the flow.
Looking around the dusty room Dylan's heart sank. They had neither the medicine nor the equipment to deal with this. If that were not bad enough, this new Trance seemed even more uncertain of herself than her Purple form had been. The fact that she barely remembered Harper didn't help. And he had serious doubts about the likelihood of finding reliable medical assistance in the Seefra System.
Not that he was about to give up.
"I think it's time we asked our guest a few questions," he stated grimly.
"Did you capture him?" Doyle looked up sharply at Dylan.
"He's in the brig; Rhade and Beka are keeping an eye on him."
"Then let's go," Doyle didn't wait to see if Dylan followed.
"Let me know if he gets worse," Trance nodded at Dylan's words, a pained expression on her face.
Dylan returned to the brig to find Doyle, Rhade, and Beka all glaring fiercely through the bars of the cell at the boy sitting on the bench inside. Joining them Dylan found the boy leaning against the wall, knees brought up to his chest and eyes closed as though he was meditating.
"Has he said anything?"
"Not yet," Doyle replied, the hardness in her voice making Dylan glance at her.
"We're not going to torture him for information," He said softly under his breath. Doyle said nothing.
"What do you plan on doing then?" Rhade inquired with a tilt of his head.
"I plan on asking him politely," Dylan said, thinking the answer was obvious. Ignoring his crewmates he stepped forward and talked a little louder.
"So, do you have a name?" No answer.
"Did someone send you here?" He tried again. No answer.
"Say something you bastard! Why the hell did you try to kill Harper?" Beka suddenly burst out, slamming her gun against the bar and sending a resounding crack throughout the room. The boy looked up sharply at the word 'bastard' and turned his blank gaze to the blonde woman. Something in his eyes darkened, and for the first time since he'd been taken by them, he spoke.
"I didn't 'try' to kill my father. I did kill him."
"That's what you think! He's still alive!" Beka countered. Dylan put a warning hand on her shoulder, drawing her away from the cell door.
"Not for long." The boy said softly.
"How do you know?" Rhade asked sharply.
"Because Mother poisoned the blades. I didn't know…not that it makes a difference -there is no cure here; he will die within the hour." So saying, the anger left the boy's eyes and he leaned against the wall once more, closing his eyes. The four people standing in front of the cell, staring at the young killer, were speechless.
A/N: Thanks once again to Chica for her help and encouragement and I'm sorry it took so long to post this; hopefully it was worth the wait. I'd like to promise that the next part will come soon, but I honestly don't know. To help tide you over, here's a preview (or rather a small section of) Part 3:
Rhade and Dylan escorted the boy into one of the rooms by the Med Deck, a firm grip on each of his arms despite the heavy binding on his hands. Trance was waiting in the room, next to a table of various medical instruments and when he saw her the boy turned pale. He was tied to a chair beside the table and the two men stood behind him, guns drawn; this was more of an attempt to scare the boy into talking or revealing information rather than for actual safety. Seeing them and the effect they were having the boy, Trance frowned.
"Thank you Dylan, Rhade; I'll be fine by myself."
"Are you sure Trance?" Dylan wasn't too keen on leaving the boy alone with anyone, especially kind-hearted and innocent Trance, but she remained firm.
"Please, you're only going to make this more difficult." Her unusually assertive expression convinced Dylan she knew what she was doing, so he nodded and signaled for Rhade to follow him as they left.
"You can torture me all that you want, but I have nothing to tell any of you that I haven't already." The boy said once they had gone. His voice didn't waver but his eyes were staring at Trance with an obvious effort to not look frightened. She smiled softly at him.
"Is that what you think this is about? You're wrong; Dylan would never let anyone torture a person, especially a child."
"I am not a child," The boy said through gritted teeth. The smile on Trance's face was replaced by a sad grimace.
"Perhaps you're right. Can you tell me your name then?" For a few long moments the boy stared at her, but at last he said reluctantly,
"My name is Keary."
"Hello Keary, I'm Trance."
"If you're not going to torture me then what are you doing?" he asked as she picked up a needle and fiddled with one of the machines.
"We just need to know if you're telling the truth about being Harper's son; a simple blood test, that's all. At least," She added under her breath, "I hope it's simple."
"What will you do with me when the test proves I'm telling the truth?" Trance turned around to look at Keary before giving an answer.
"I guess that'll depend,"
"Depend on what?"
"On if Harper dies."
