Chapter 7

"He came in on tiptoe,

He came on the sly,

Sweat on his forehead,

And on his lips – a lie."

From The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy by Tim Burton

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'Boy, what the hell are you doing here?' Tyr snapped irritably, watching Harper with a kind of weary annoyance. Dylan watched Harper's lips tighten at the word "boy", and by the time Tyr had finished speaking his eyes had dropped down from his back and hung casually close to his weapons, not clenched but looking as though they would very much like to be clenched. He seemed to take a deep, quiet breath, and Dylan was willing to bet that he was counting to ten in his head. Then the smile returned and his gaze turned on Dylan.

'My, my, Dylan. What an outstandingly well-disciplined crew you have, from what I have seen so far. One of them running amok and landing on strange ships, the other showing such an open acceptance and warmth towards strangers. And I notice you at least are wearing a uniform of some kind. Pity the others haven't seemed to follow your example. Doesn't really make it a uniform, does it, if only one person wears it?'

'Reb!' Yuna hissed in his ear, stepping forward and placing a slim hand on his shoulder in an attempt to soothe him.

'Don't try to be funny with me, foolish child,' Tyr carried on, ignoring Dylan's warning look. 'You think you can pull this inexplicably pointless stunt just because you jammed a dictionary into your dat... a… por…' Tyr's voice trailed away as his eyes clamped down on the spot on Harper's neck just below his hair where there should have been a little round metal disk there was just clean, smooth pale skin, the blonde hair clipped back carefully and many shades lighter than that of the Harper that he knew. Harper gave a knowing smile.

'Right, that's it!' Dylan snarled, losing his temper. 'You are going to tell me just exactly who you think you are to talk to me like that, what you are doing, where your dataport is, and who these freaks are!' The strange crew bristled and muttered among themselves, but Harper's lip simply curled slightly.

'Very well, to answer your questions… My name is Captain Reb Anderson, as I told you before, I'm not sure what you mean by dataport but I assure you that I don't own one, and these 'freaks' are my crew. They are also my friends, so if you insult them you insult me. As for what I'm doing…' he paused. 'That would take a long time to tell.'

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Dylan, Beka, Tyr and the crew of the Deepwater were gathered on obs deck. Beka had tried to explain who the strangers were, and stopped when she realised how little she knew. Yet the crew were unwilling to divulge too much. They told Dylan about the Pandora virus, the mission to repopulate the Earth and save mankind, Reb had even told Dylan a little about the machinery of the Deepwater, of its engines, its layout and – with some pleasure – the weapons they had onboard. Yet there was an aura of deceptiveness, something they were keeping back. But Dylan was not interested in this; he was slightly preoccupied by the fact that his Chief Engineer's doppelganger was sitting in front of him wearing a strange uniform, claiming command of his own ship and crew. But unlike the Andromeda, Dylan had noticed that Reb seemed to be captain only by default, that they were all equals, that they each played a part, every single member as important as the next. At one point Andromeda had appeared on the nearest screen, and Zak's eyes had lit up with interest, but Dylan dismissed her with a wave of his hand, waiting for an opening in which he could ask the questions that he really wanted to know. Finally it came.

'This is all fascinating,' the High Guard Captain said suddenly. 'But you see, what I really want to know is why Harper seems to have developed an identical twin without his knowledge.'

Reb tried to restrain himself from rolling his eyes impatiently. 'I hardly think it's too complicated,' he sighed, with a trace of exasperation. 'Obviously we come from two different universes. Is it really so hard to believe that in each reflection of similar realities, there might also occur a reflection of the entities inhabiting them. Looking the same, but different people, echoing the nature of the metaphysical against that of intelligent organics.'

Dylan shook his head, not only in amazement at Harper – and he still thought of him as Harper despite himself – talking like a philosopher, but also at his lack of emotion. 'But wouldn't it be just incredible for you to stand face to face with yourself?'

Again, that small, ironic curve appeared at the corners of Reb's mouth, like he was enjoying a private joke. 'I imagine so,' he said softly. 'But then again…'

'Reb!' Gret said suddenly, warningly, from over his left shoulder. She was gripping the back of a chair so hard that her knuckles had turned white, like the bone was about to burst out of her skin, and she was trembling, a frightened look on her face. Dylan noted her reaction with curiosity, but didn't comment, yet. He sighed, and made a steeple with his forefingers, resting his chin on it and watching Reb thoughtfully. He only knew one person on board who would possibly be able to explain this properly.

'Trance!' he called, knowing that she would hear him, but Reb frowned and looked over his shoulder, as if expecting to see whom Dylan was talking to. A moment of silence, then…

'Yes, Dylan?' Trance replied over the com line.

'Where are you?'

'Hydroponics,' she replied promptly. 'As always.'

'Well can you make your way to my obs deck, please. I have something I need your help on.'

'Wha… yes, Captain,' she said, unable to disguise the curiosity in her voice. Dylan looked back at Reb, who had the strangest smile on his face, and his head cocked to one side as if trying to see things with a whole new perspective.

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Harper sat in machine shop 12, trying to concentrate over the sound of his own uncontrolled muttered curses. He knew something important was going on; Tyr had opened a com line to him briefly, stating only that there was a diplomatic meeting going on that Dylan would prefer the 'little professor' to keep out of.

'Little professor my ass,' Harper spat bitterly. 'He just wants me to keep out of things that I might actually enjoy doing. I ought to go stand up to him. I'm sick of this, "yes Dylan, no Dylan, three bags full, Dylan" stuff. I'm Seamus Harper, Diplomacy is my middle name!'

'I thought it was Zelazny,' Andromeda said, materialising next to him. Harper looked up at her, then snorted and went back to his flexi with disinterest.

'Oh, so the queen of politics graces the little mudfoot with her celestial presence, does she?' he mumbled sulkily. 'Well suppose I have two middle names? What if my name's Seamus Zelazny Diplomacy Harper? Or Seamus Diplomacy Zelazny Harper… though I gotta say that Seamus Zelazny Diplomacy Harper has a little more of a ring to it…' his voice trailed away as he noticed Andromeda's eyebrows touch her holographic hairline. 'Did you want something?'

'Harper, stay out of this,' she told him sternly. 'Dylan's orders.'

'Well what if I decide I don't want to?' he sneered rebelliously, jutting his chin out at her.

'I'll lock you in.'

Harper's jaw dropped. 'You wouldn't!'

'Would you like a demonstration?' she threatened, but her voice was gentler. 'Trust me, Harper, this is for your own good.' And with that she dematerialised, leaving Harper gaping at empty space.

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'Well, your theory of 'alternate universes' is all very pretty, Reb…' Dylan said slowly.

'Captain Anderson!' Reb snapped, his pale cheeks flushing a little. Dylan frowned, but carried on

'Captain Anderson, though you've told me a lot about yourself and your crew, I can't shake the feeling that there's something you're holding back,' Dylan persisted. 'You've told me that this Pandora virus occurred centuries ago, that steps were taken when the humans of Earth started dying out, but how did you come to be here now? If the virus spread, if humans were killed off, then how are you here now? Are you 400 years old? I suppose it might work if you were cryogenically frozen, but for so long… how did you do it? I've a feeling you didn't accidentally stumble into a black hole like I did.'

Reb hesitated, then shared a meaningful glance with the rest of his crew. Lise worried her lower lip, Zak stared furiously at the deck, Gret ran a trembling hand through her hair, and Bren's face appeared set in stone, but Yuna, just for a second, seemed to shake her head, so gently and briefly it could have just been a shiver. Reb saw it, and understood. He looked back at Dylan, opened his mouth, but was saved by the sound of the hatch sliding open. Dylan looked over and smiled.

'Ah, Trance!' he said. 'I'd like you to meet some guests. This is…' he stopped at the expression on Reb's face, on the faces of the whole crew, but mostly on Reb's. His eyes were wide, staring at the beautiful golden girl with a jumble of emotions dancing across his features. Trepidation, recognition, shock and - could it be – love?

Beka was also watching him. 'Reb,' she said gently, leaning forward. 'What's the matter.'

For a moment… silence, then Reb breathed a name, not taking his eyes off of Trance.

'Aurora.'

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Hehehe... cliffie? Me? Are you insane? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, I'm afraid. Tumteetum...

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