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Chapter 8
"I'm sick of being ignored and today I am going to play God."
From Education for Leisure by Carol Ann Duffy
'You're lying to me, Rommie,' Dylan said flatly, looking at her accusingly. The android hesitated. She had told Dylan that there it had been a malfunction that had nearly killed Gerentex, not wanting to relate to him what she had seen
(who she had seen)
in her vast network of control panels, conduits, backups etc. Unfortunately, she was not built for telling falsehoods and Dylan could see right away that she was hiding something from him. He was about to press her for the truth when they were interrupted by the arrival of Tyr, who was deliberately treading heavily to let them know he was there.
'Have either of you seen Beka?' he snapped, looking at both of them but directing the question at Rommie, who would be able to locate Miss Valentine wherever she was.
'Nice to see you too,' Dylan muttered. Tyr ignored him, once again expressing his disdain at having someone on the ship superior to him.
'She's currently in her quarters, resting,' the android replied after a second's pause.
'Well get her out of there,' Tyr said harshly. 'She's been resting for days now, and it's not damn good enough. We've all been affected by… by what happened.' Dylan was relieved that Tyr had had the discretion not to say it out loud; he didn't think he was ready to deal with that yet. 'But you don't see me moping about, and I don't see you moping about, and if she carries on like this then…'
'I'll turn into a complete loser, even more than I am already?' Beka asked softly from the doorway where she had been listening. 'Are you afraid I'm going crazy, is that it? Maybe I am. It would make all the sense in the world. After all, Harper, my best friend, is dead. I have had the psychological equivalent of a blitz, and I'm entitled to a little insanity.'
Tyr glared at Rommie, who didn't respond. It seemed she wasn't as bad at lying as she thought she was. He turned to look at Beka fearlessly.
'This ship is falling apart. The repairs that we should have made on our last planetfall were delayed, not through the fault of anyone here, but they were still delayed. Now we don't have an engineer. We have several hull breaches, the slipstream drive is unstable and our arms are almost entirely depleted of anything that could prove useful if it comes to a firefight. We can pull through if we all pull our weight, but as far as I can tell I'm the only who seems to have noticed the state that the ship is in.' He finished his speech and glared at each crewmember in turn, his breathing fast and heavy. Dylan looked away guiltily, Rommie just stared at him blankly, but Beka scowl at him defiantly, her lip curling into a sneer.
'Then you obviously don't have the measure of me, Tyr. I know the Andromeda's in a state, I know that I haven't been helping, and I'm sorry. I've… I've been going through some things in my head, and I've realised that you can't change the past. But…'
She was interrupted by the almost-deafening wailing of a klaxon and suddenly red lights were flashing everywhere. Then the Andromeda bucked violently, throwing them all crashing to the floor. Beka was unfortunate to land facedown and her lip was split open. She lifted her head and felt a warm trail of blood trickling from her left nostril and dribbling down her chin. 'What the hell was that?' she screamed over the wailing alarm bells.
Rommie, who was already on her feet located the problem and gasped: 'it's the power generators. One of the valves has slipped and now all the power's being diverted into one of the engines instead of being spread out. If it doesn't stop soon the engines could overload and explode!'
'What? Is it… is it what was happening before? Is it that… uh… malfunction again?' Dylan shot at her, lifting one eyebrow accusingly. Rommie barely registered it, because the same thought had just struck her as well. The image of Harper, crouching down and trying to stifle his laughter came back to her. Was it Harper doing this, or his ghost? Was this some kind of revenge for letting him die? She opened her mouth and was about to tell Dylan the truth when the ship convulsed again, sending her sprawling to the floor. Tyr crashed into a guard rail and flipped over it, landing heavily on his back.
'Sh…'
'…it,' Harper yelled, looking around him wildly. Red lights were flashing everywhere, and the Andromeda was shaking itself to bits. He instinctively reached out to grab Beka's bedpost and of course his hand just passed right through it. He had remained there after she had left, needing time to think, but now it seemed that thinking time was over.
He walked through the door and out into the corridor, wondering how the hell he was going to find out what was going on, and what he could do about it.
Please please please don't make me have to stand back anymore let me help them I've got to stop this I've got to be good for something!
As if in response to his silent prayers, Harper's surroundings whirled and grew less distinct. The corridor lost its form and solidity. He closed his eyes in terror, and when he opened them he was back in the conduit where he had jacked in to the Andromeda. He only needed to hesitate for a split second. He didn't know how he had wound up here, or what he was meant to do, or even if he would be able to do it, but he knew where he had to start.
His ghostly hand shot out and he touched the fingertip to the port. Blue sparks flashed around his hand and spread to the rest of his body until he was outlined in electric charge. Instead of jacking in, a strange sensation spread through him, a sensation that he hadn't felt since… since…
(Ow! That really hurt!)
the feeling of pain. It was both strange and repulsive to him. It shot through his entire ectoplasmic form, making him spasm and jerk, his fingertip still firmly attached to the port as if he had nano-welded it there. For a moment he was tossed about like a rag doll, then the awful voice filled his head.
Don't you dare! You can't help them if this is their time, stay out of it! Haven't you done enough?
'It's not their time!' he screamed, not wanting to believe it. He didn't know how he knew this, but he knew that there was nothing he wouldn't do to save them. If it meant him going to hell and spending the rest of his life in fiery agony, having pitchforks stuck in his butt then so be it.
You think you have a choice in this? You think you can beat me? I stopped you last time, boy, and I could do it again! Just give it up!
'You bastard!' he whispered hatefully. So that was why he had jacked out when Rommie saw him. He was suddenly furious. 'I do have a choice in this. I'm going to get in there and you can't stop me, not if I really want it!' At least he hoped so.
You don't want this, really. Why do you want to save them? They didn't save you; they just let you die. They sat back and they were laughing inside, I could hear them, boy, I could hear them!
'LIAR!' he screamed, twisting and turning violently to try and shake the voice out of his head, most of all because he was worried that he did believe what he was hearing. It had been inside him all along; that tiny whisper at the back of his mind that was asking why. Why Tyr had overpowered his captors and pulled Harper away from the chopping block, why Beka hadn't pleaded with Gerentex to spare her friend, and why Trance had saved Gerentex's life all those years ago, when she must have seen Harper's imminent death.
Because they all wanted this. They wanted you to die and rot in hell like you're going to when all this is over. I'm going to let you watch them die and you will enjoy it, boy!
Harper screamed in agony and shook his head. Then he suddenly heard Beka screaming from a long way away, and he was transported back to the night of his death, to her screams back then. She sure as hell hadn't been laughing. Who was he going to believe: his best friend or this nasty, vindictive, patronising voice in his head that was telling him to stand back and do nothing. His face set in fury, and he wrenched his hand free.
'My name is Harper,' he hissed, then slammed his fist into the panel.
