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Both Dylan and Harper are thrust into a Precarious situation.
Ch. 7
Predicament
Well, this is going well, Dylan cynically mused. As he led the small party of Dragans down the corridors, glancing over his shoulder to speak out points of interest for them to notice, all he saw by way of expressions were the same they had worn since coming aboard.
Dylan was glad for Rommie and Trance's presence. Rev Bem would have accompanied them had the male soldiers not given him dangerous looks. Dylan thought it better to tell the Magog Wayist to go and preserve his health rather than risk it. No one had bided Trance to go, so she stayed by choice, and Rommie by necessity. Beka and Tyr had departed on their own accord, but Dylan decided not to hold it against them. He had enough to deal with at the moment.
Harper had yet to appear, which Dylan had finally come to terms with. It was probably better for the young engineer not to be in shooting range of the Dragans. Anayla's interest in the boy had set off a number of warnings in Dylan's head, and had brought about an early onset of weariness; and the Dragans had yet to actually do anything.
When they came by hydroponics, Trance perked, beaming brighter than a sun, and began chatting quickly about the various plants she had collected over the years. It was cut short, however, when the Nietzscheans turned away in utter disinterest and left. Trance was taken back, but not offended. She shrugged and followed after, talking about the beauty of the ship's design.
The Nietzscheans did come slightly to life when Dylan showed them the two massive machines meant for land-based combat, but Dylan cut that part of the tour short himself. No need for them to get an eye full for too long, just enough to know what Andromeda was capable of.
They finished the tour by Dylan showing the small party their quarters, with Anayla receiving the better of the rooms of course. She seemed mildly pleased with them as she looked them over, even the colorful plants Trance had placed inside to "brighten the place up", as she had put it.
With the tour now complete, the next step was to get down to the business at hand. Anayla left her entourage at their quarters, say for the platinum headed male who looked to be near the same age as Anayla. Dylan dismissed Rommie and Trance, then led the two Dragans to the conference room.
Anayla told the male whose name was Seth to wait outside the door. She then took a seat opposite Dylan, her long-fingered hands folded lightly on the tabletop.
" Very impressive, Captain Hunt," Anayla said. " I never thought such an ancient ship could remain so… advanced."
Dylan was startled beyond words. Praise from a Nietzschean. For a brief, comical moment, he thought the universe would collapse around him at any moment.
" Uh… thank you, Lady Anayla."
Anayla turned her mouth up in a temporary smile. " No, thank you, Captain Hunt. You have received us well and I am glad for that."
And you've been courteous about it the whole time, Dylan wanted to say, but quickly thought better of it. His animosity against the Dragans may not have been as strong as the one Harper held against them, but neither was it subdued. Earth had been like a home away from home during the Common Wealth years. However, it was the Dragans treatment of their human slaves that boiled Dylan's blood the most. He had been witness to it here and there on the drifts they stopped at or the multi-species worlds they visited. But the truest testament of their cruelty came from Harper himself, and not always in words. Harper never talked about it outright unless angry, frightened, or in a state of melancholia. When he did, he kept it short, to the point, but in a hesitant sort of way as old emotions resurfaced to try and overwhelm him. They were terrible stories, short as they were, and Dylan's heart broke for the little man every time he heard them. They also helped to reinforce his patience whenever the cocky engineer did something to try that patience.
Besides stories, there was Harper himself. Short, forever scrawny, flesh marred by scars that embarrassed him if accidentally noticed, and with an immune system that Dylan would not wish on his worst enemy. It was beyond a miracle that the young man was still alive, a miracle that kept occurring every day now that the kid had Magog in him.
" Captain Hunt," Anayla said. " My superiors are in a state of flux on what to do about these recent Magog attacks. They are nothing we cannot handle, but they are draining our defenses, leaving us vulnerable to attacks by rival prides. We would not have come to you…" she let the words hang in the air for a moment to drive home the bitterness that still lay like a blaster between them. " But I fear we have no choice. We need help."
Dylan sat back in his chair, thoughtfully searching the Lady's face, seeking for that twitch of anger at having to ask for assistance, and from an enemy at that. He saw nothing of the sort. The woman might have been an android the way she held herself in such perfect check. This bothered Dylan to no end. It meant something, but now was not the time to ponder it.
" I understand. However, what I don't understand is why you came to me. I'm the ally to one of those rival prides you mentioned. I aided them in the attack against your fleet. One of my crewmembers helped to start that little rebellion that has, obviously, led to this situation. So excuse me if I can't see the reasoning behind your coming to me for help. In all truth, I have every reason to deny it, and you have every reason not to be here."
Anayla smiled. " You're right, captain. If I had my way, I would not be here at all. Yes, you have every reason not to help us, say one. The kludges."
Knowing well enough what the term "kludge" meant, Dylan mocked ignorance all the same.
" Excuse me, Kludge?"
Anayla's smile never wavered. " Humans. You care about your race, don't you captain? If we suffer, they suffer, and I don't think you want that."
Dylan inclined his head in a nod. " You know me well, Lady."
" Call me Anayla, and it is my superiors who know you, at least in the respects that you care for our slaves far more than you do us. You even have one of them among you, is that not so?"
Discomfort squirmed in Dylan. He had been loathing this moment.
" Yes."
Anayla nodded a few times, but said nothing more on the matter. This struck Dylan as unusual. He thought for certain that she would have launched into a game of double-meaning questions meant to reveal the details of Harper's influence in the rebellion. Instead she fell silent as she fell back into her brief state of reverie. She then blinked, pulling herself from it with another smile.
" If you want to help the humans, then you must help us."
" How?" Dylan asked.
" I don't know. Perhaps, for a start, if there were some way you could keep the Sabra-Jaguar pride off our backs for a time. Just a suggestion. Or you could lend us some weaponry, or yourself and your ship to fend off the attacking Magog. Really it's up to you. Help directly, help indirectly, it does not matter. In return, besides being able to help your fellow… humans, you would receive further compensation."
" Such as what?"
" A truce for one. You leave us alone, and we leave you alone."
Dylan arched both his eyebrows skeptically. Yeah, right, leave alone just until the Magog have been fended off, then shoot me in the back, Dylan thought.
" An alliance, maybe?" Anayla went on. " Think about it, having the most powerful Nietzschean pride at your call."
" I already have a Nietzschean pride, thanks," Dylan replied. Anayla laughed softly.
" What, the Sabra-Jaguar alliance? Combine prides all you wish, they are still insects compared to the power of the Drago-Kasov."
And there it was; the famous Nietzschean arrogance. Dylan had been waiting for it the moment he received the call that a Dragan diplomat was being sent to speak with him.
" How about," Dylan said, shifting to a more comfortable position in his seat, " you give me earth and all its humans, and I give you my full back-up. Hll, maybe I'll even bring in the Sabra-Jaguars to help out. Not that they would, but I could at least try."
Anayla was still all grins. It was almost like a battle between them to see which one would frown first and stomp away furiously.
" I like your wit, Captain. You have quite the way with humor."
Dylan lifted his hands. " What can I say, it's a gift. I enjoy making people laugh. Stick around, I might have you keeling over in hysterics before long."
Anayla did laugh, but softly. " I plan on 'sticking around' as you put it, just until you come to a decision. We may not have much time, but please take all the time you need. I know this must be a very delicate situation for you."
Dylan sighed. " Lady, you have no idea."
Anayla chuckled again. " Please don't take my meaning to be a sign of consideration."
" Oh, I didn't," Dylan replied.
" Do you mind if I change the subject?" She asked.
" Please do."
" Your engineer, what was his name again?"
Here it comes again, Dylan thought darkly. " Seamus Harper."
Again, the look of reverie. She nodded. " Of course. Is there any possible way I could meet with him?"
" For his autograph or his head?"
Anayla's brow furrowed in confusion. " His… What?"
" His autograph or head. But I'm guessing head since that's probably what your superiors want. So I don't know if it would be such a good idea for you two to meet."
Anayla's confusion deepened. She shook her head. " Why would my superiors want the head of some useless escapee?"
Dylan thought she was feigning ignorance. However, there was a certain falsehood, expression-wise, to those faking innocence or misunderstanding. Dylan had seen it often enough to know it, and could identify it a mile coming. He did not even see a hint of falsehood in Anayla's visage. She was genuinely perplexed.
Dylan could barely contain his surprise. She didn't know. She had no idea that Harper was the one who had started the rebellions.
Anayla's brow smoothed, and Dylan knew then that she finally realized.
" Wait, he wasn't the one who you sent to earth, was he?"
Dylan did not reply. He did not know how to. All he could do was mentally kick himself.
" He is, isn't he," she said with widening eyes. She then sat back and became thoughtful. " Hm, interesting. I thought it had been the woman. She looked the type. Oh well." She continued her mental considerations. " So very interesting."
Dylan wanted to ask why it was so interesting, but he felt he had said enough for one day.
" Are we done, then, Captain?" she asked, and without waiting for a reply stood and strode quickly from the room with Seth following at her side.
Dylan was confused. Something was going on that he knew nothing about, and he hated nothing more than not knowing what was happening on his own ship. Harper had vanished upon Anayla's arrival, and Anayla was interested in Harper other than as an instigator in an uprising. Now more than ever did he need to have that talk with Harper.
" Andromeda?" he called. Holo-Rommie appeared by his chair.
" Yes captain?"
" Locate Mr. Harper for me."
" He is in his quarters."
Dylan stood up quickly from his chair. " Good."
" But he has engaged privacy mode with specific instructions not to be disturbed."
Dylan abruptly turned to face the hologram. " What?"
" He does not wish to speak with anyone."
Dylan let out a sharp breath and began messaging the bridge of his nose. " Well, as Captain, I'm afraid I'm going to have to override it."
He turned, moving around the table to leave the conference room. The moment he did, Holo-Rommie appeared before him, blocking his path though he could have easily walked through her.
" Harper knew you would say this, and he has asked me to relay a message."
Dylan placed his hands on his hips and tensed with impatience.
" What is it?"
" Please," Rommie stated simply.
" Please?"
" Please wait. Please give me a moment. I'll come out when I'm ready. I just need a moment."
" How did he sound when he said this?" Dylan asked next.
" Subdued. Nervous. Uncertain. His heart rate had been elevated at the time."
This day just kept getting stranger and stranger. Dylan was still impatient to speak with Harper, but Harper's words, though spoken in the flat tone of Holo-Rommie, had sounded uncharacteristic of him. Normally when requesting privacy his messages usually involved words such as " leave me alone" or " get the hll away from my door." None of which Dylan ever listened to.
He listened this time, though. If something were going on with Harper on an emotional level then it would be better to wait. But only for so long.
" I'll give him two hours," Dylan said. " If he comes out before then, tell him I want to see him. If he stays over that time, override the mode."
" Yes Captain," Rommie replied, and blinked out. Dylan continued up the corridor at a slower pace, thinking of things that he could do to pass the time and still maintain his composure. He boded no anger or irritation toward Harper, only concern.
AAAAAAAAAAAA
The quiet darkness of the room wrapped itself like a blanket around Harper. He sat in the farthest corner of his room with his back against the cool wall of the ship. He could feel the ships life as a miniscule vibration through the wall, and concentrated on it until it grew to cause the bones of his back to vibrate as well. The ships soft hum was like a presence that kept away feelings of loneliness. It recalled to Harper those days in his childhood when he wished for privacy but not to be alone. He would hide under a blanket so as not to be seen, or be able to see anyone in return. But he could still hear the voices of his parents in the next room, or his mother's soft humming, so that he was never truly alone. It was the way he had liked it, and had now rediscovered a means for it on the Andromeda.
He held his shriller in his hands; the one Brenden had retrieved for him from his parents' grave. It had been dull and rusty, but he had polished it to a mirror shine since then. The metal that had felt cool a moment ago had now warmed up in his grip.
His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and he could see the faint outline of the thin whistled in his hands. It was all he had in connection with his parents since it had rested with their bodies for a time. Cassie had both hated and loved the whistle. She loved it because it had come about through the ingenuity of her clever son, and hated it because it had given him a false sense of invincibility. She would probably love it even more if she knew what it meant to Harper.
Besides being a piece of memory, it was a piece of safety as well. He felt safe in the dark, huddled in a corner wrapped in shadows, and holding the only weapon that could bring an uber to his knees. Even on Andromeda, this was the only way he could feel safe.
One half of his brain continued to shout in denial that the diplomat uber was the one, and the other half could not deny it at all. No other uber face or voice had ever struck him such a blow. There had been faces that bore slight similarities, yet not enough to make Harper so much as flinch. There could be no denying it, no matter how much he argued with himself.
But what tortured him the most beyond having the woman merely present was the fact that he could do nothing about it. Would she even remember him when she saw him? There was no saying until it happened. Whatever the case, he could not take his revenge. He could not so much as wound her without hurting Dylan in return. She was a diplomat coming under terms of a truce. To rend that truce would be like cutting a very delicate string pulled too taut already. There would follow serious repercussions, and they would all be heaped on Dylan's head.
Seamus could not do that to him. No matter the fury he felt he could not let it consume him. He would have to avoid the uber female as best he could until she left. It tore Harper up inside, having to do this. He tightened his grip on the shriller until his hands shook. Magog Larvae in his gut, and the killer of his parents strutting around the ship, looking over everything in distaste. It was all too much for Harper, and he could not stop the tears that fell from his eyes.
" Why are you doing this to me?" he whispered, weeping. He lowered his forehead onto his knees and let his emotions run free. He did not know, nor did he care, how long he remained like this. When his head throbbed and chest ached from sadness, he lifted his head and wiped his eyes dry with the back of his hand. All that was left in him now was anger. Yes, he would have to avoid the woman. He needed to talk to Dylan. Dylan would help him. Dylan would understand. He always did.
Harper was about to set the shriller aside, but found that he could not let it go. He was afraid to. So he continued to hold to it as he shut down the privacy mode, taking a deep breath and leaving his room.
