Chapter 3
"Insanity in individuals is something rare-
but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Consciousness had always seemed like an odd concept to Harper. How could something that was so easy to lose be so quick to regain? Now was the perfect example. He was trying desperately to open his eyes and shake the weary feeling of sleep away, but something was holding him back. There was this… net… between him and the land of the conscious. He pushed and pushed at it but it never yielded.
Amongst the fight for awareness something abruptly changed and Harper realized he was looking up at one of Andromeda'ssupport beams. The support beams on Med Deck to be more precise. He's been there often enough to familiarize himself with the specifics of the room-- most noticeably the ceiling since as he was often horizontal, laid out by some illness or work related accident.
The first time he really remembered studying the ceiling so intently was probably when Tyr had knocked him unconscious. He'd made the deadly mistake of accidentally walking up behind the preoccupied Kodiak a couple of years ago. Tyr had swung around faster than the human could duck and smacked the engineer so hard in the face with his new Gauss riffle that Harper had seen stars for nearly a week.
Seamus sensed his alertness level rise a bit more and felt up to turning his head to the left. He wasn't surprised to see Beka standing a few feet away. There hadn't been many times he couldn't remember her being near whenever he'd awoken after being ill. This time, however, she was too engrossed in playing with a bag of blue antibiotic treatment fluid to realize he was staring at her. Holding the thin plastic in the middle, Beka let the liquid slouch to the front and then let it fall to the other end.
Harper cleared his throat and Valentine swiftly turned, finally noticing he was awake and aware. She carefully set the bag down on a nearby equipment table and pulled a chair towards Harper's bed.
"Hello," she greeted simply.
Harper blinked up at her. "Hello."
"What happened?" Beka asked.
The engineer wrinkled his forehead slightly. What had happened? His eyes found hers again. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
Beka looked unsure of his intent but answered truthfully. "Uh… no."
"Neither do I," Harper continued, "which means there has to be a logical explanation."
"For what exactly?"
"When we were in the Limvris chamber, I felt something brush by me. And I've heard voices," he explained. "And now I keep seeing the dead Nietzscheans from the massacre."
"Seeing them where?" Beka asked. He could tell she was trying to hide her skepticism.
He leaned closer. "Well, last night they were in my closet. There was a hole and all I could see out of it was open space."
Beka raised an eyebrow. "In… your closet?"
"Yes!" Harper exclaimed. "I don't think they're dead!"
"Who? The stiffs in the Dorran morgue?"
"The nine Nietzscheans, Beka. Andromeda translated a phrase on the datapad that meant 'to enter by infiltration.' I think that's what they're doing!"
"Entering by infiltration?"
"Yes!"
Beka barely restrained a laugh. "Through your closet?"
"Stop patronizing me, would ya?" Harper snapped. "Look, H'toh said the Limvris were being hunted by other Nietzschean prides, right? Now what if they used some sort of technology to transform their bodies into… I don't know, energy… or something."
This time Beka full out snickered. "Energy?"
"Or something. Look, I don't know exactly how, Rommie and I can figure that part out later. The point is, they're here. They've entered by infiltration and now they want to use my body as… as some kind of host. A physical body to inhabit again."
"All nine of them?"
Harper pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and made a mental note to ask Trance about his headache. "That sounds crazy, huh?"
"Um… yeah," Beka answered candidly. "You've got to admit there's some holes in your theory."
"It's a theory, not a proof."
Beka realized he was getting defensive with her and frowned. "Okay, then why are you the only one who can see them? Why didn't they come through Dylan's closet? It's way cleaner than yours."
"I don't know, Boss" the engineer replied. "The only other theory I can come up with is that I'm having some sort of nervous breakdown."
"Or something…"
"Or something," Harper echoed.
Beka sat watching her sleeping engineer and wondered how many times she'd done this before. How many times she'd sat by his side while recovering from… whatever. Taking a bad spill on the Maru, shocking himself silly after crossing the wrong wires, or even getting a bad case of food poisoning from that shoddy cantina on Dromous. Once she'd tried keeping tally of how many times she held vigil over him but always ended up losing count.
It wasn't just injuries though that brought her to his bedside. Years after joining up with the Maru Harper frequently had nightmares about Earth and things she never wanted to even think about. Beka had never liked calling them nightmares though. No, these were night terrors plan and simple. In the beginning they had occurred regularly. As the year progressed and he became more comfortable with his surroundings, the episodes slowed farther.
Years later aboard the Andromeda, Rommie had once asked he why every night, without fail, he would put his quarters into privacy mode before he fell asleep. Harper had laughed and made a bad sexual joke about wanting a little "privacy" and Rommie had let it go with a roll of her eyes. Beka knew the real reason of course.
Though the night terrors where rare now, they still occurred. While he never talked about them she could see it in his face the next morning. Sometimes he was up to talking, other times not. When he wasn't she simply stayed near in the hopes of consoling him with her presence. Sometimes it was the only thing she could do.
Valentine sighed and ran a hand through her tangled hair. She knew her thoughts were getting a tad on the melodramatic side. Harper didn't want anyone to feel story for him. He didn't want looks of sympathy or encouraging pats on the back.
Harper didn't intentionally dwell in his past. He just suffered though the dreams and went on the next morning. But every time she saw him do it, she wondered what his breaking point would be. How much could a skinny little mudfoot take before the terrors he'd tried so hard to push back became too big to vanquish?
Today it didn't matter though. Harper was going to be fine like he always was. In no time he'd be up and about annoying them and Beka wouldn't have to worry about him. At least for a blessed while anyway.
The Med Deck's doors opened with its usual metallic hiss and Beka turned to see Trance make her way in, followed closely by Rommie.
Beka stood and put a finger to her mouth. "He's sleeping again," she whispered. "I was going to let him get a little more shut eye before he heads out of here. We all know he'll probably refuse to take it easy once he's back in his quarters."
"We need to talk, Beka," Trance said softly, motioning her outside.
Beka narrowed her eyebrows. "What's wrong?"
"Lets go outside, Beka," Rommie prodded.
"All right," the captain replied softly. She spared one last look at her sleeping friend and followed the pair outside. When the doors finally shut and they were alone in the corridor Beka put her hands on her hips. "Now, what the hell's going on?"
Trance and Rommie shared a quick glance and Beka felt her stomach drop.
"We have a theory about Harper's mysterious illness," Trance said. "We've called Dylan and Tyr to meet us in the conference room. You need to be there."
"I'm not going to enjoy this, am I?" Beka asked warily.
The silence she received from the others was the only answer she needed.
"No. Nonononono, and oh yeah… NO!"
"Beka," Rommie pleaded calmly, "you have to accept the possibly that Trance could be right."
Beka stood up violently, nearly knocking her chair backwards. "It all sounds fairly theoretical to me and I refuse to just accept it. Doesn't anybody think it could possibly be stress? Huh? He's been working like a Bandomeerian racing dog trying get those new upgrades installed on Andromeda for the past week and a half."
Trance shook her head sadly. "As much as I'd like to think that's all it is, the evidence just doesn't point that way. Harper has been having paranoid delusions, as well as auditory and visual hallucinations."
"Beka, please," Dylan said as he stood up next to her. He put a hand on her arm intending to comfort, but it only caused the veteran pilot to glare at him instead. "Just sit down and we will all figure out our next course of action."
Beka sat but refused to uncross her arms. "I know our next course of action. I take Harper on a long, soothing holiday away from here."
Trance sighed, wishing for once she wasn't the ship's resident physician. "Did you know he's been coming to me for headaches that last two months?"
"A lot of people get headaches, Trance. What's your point?"
"Migraines are often one of the first signs of this… illness."
Beka smirked, clearly sill unwilling to believe what she was hearing. "That's right, this so-call sickness."
"Harper has experienced what I believe to be a first break psychotic episode, Beka."
The blonde pilot rolled her eyes and Trance's calm broke.
"An episode that could quite possibly lead to a manifestation of full-blown hebephrenic-schizophrenia!" It was now the usually calm and collected alien that stood up, slamming her golden palms on the table harshly. "Do you think I want to be saying this, Beka? Do you think I take pleasure in giving this diagnosis? I damn well don't!"
The room fell silent as Trance gazed down at her friend. Beka felt her heart pounding furiously against her ribcage. The hush was silenced as Trance seemed to realize what she'd done and slipped back into her chair, feverishly wiping away a single tear.
"I- I'm-…" Beka swallowed. "I'm sorry, Trance. I want so much for you to be wrong and I refused to even admit that anything you were saying could have truth to it. It's- it's Harper we're talking about here."
Trance nodded. "I know."
Rommie stood up to speak, taking the burden from Trance.
"Harper's dopamine levels have rapidly increased in the left hemisphere of his brain," the android explained. "The headaches, the increase of dopamine, and the hallucinations are all symptoms of textflexi schizophrenia."
Tyr, who had been silent though the earlier exchange, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I don't understand. How this could happen without us noticing signs before now?" he asked. "Besides that… is there not a cure? Surely with all that we have available to us…"
Rommie shrugged. "No one knows the precise cause of schizophrenia. Even with our advanced medical technology, most mental illnesses in the human brain still remain a mystery. No matter how much machinery we construct or scanners we use, the brain remains an advanced machine all its own."
The robot passed an information flexi across to Tyr. "Schizophrenia is typically only found in humans, or species with brains akin to theirs. Nietzscheans and Perseids can also be ravaged by this disease as well. However, with the genetic engineering in Nietzscheans, cases of schizophrenia are relatively rare. Most mentally ill Nietzscheans are either locked away when the first signs begin to show, or go on to become famous figures in the culture's lore," she said, trying to smile gently at the last remark.
"In some human cases the disease is genetic," Rommie went on, "but we really have no way of getting a history of Harper's family to see if that's where the root of the problem is. When it's not genetic, it's environmental and… Harper's time on Earth could also have played a major factor, even years later."
"What are our options if this is the case?" Tyr asked.
Rommie's optical sensors seemed to show her that Tyr hadn't been affected by the news. However, the ship's sensors monitoring his physical body spiked just a touch, revealing his apprehension.
"For now we're going to medicate him and let him rest in one of my guest quarters," the robot answered. "But if his symptoms persist or he becomes a threat to himself or anyone else…" She turned to Dylan. "We'll have no other choice but to commit him to a mental health facility. The Andromeda is not equipped for such a case and will not be able to provide the best possible treatment."
"I understand," Dylan said. He looked carefully at the motley crew surrounding him. All of them, in their own ways, cared for their resident engineer. If Harper did indeed have this illness, the earthling would need all of them to support him.
"This is a challenge being brought before us all. It is not something only Harper will have to deal with," Dylan said. He laced his fingers and rested his elbows on the table. "We all need Harper. Andromeda needs Harper. But most importantly, Harper needs us. We as a crew have yet to be overcome in battle. We have been scarred and worn, but never conquered. This illness, like all the other enemies we have defeated, will not find victory aboard this ship."
The VIP quarters aboard the Andromeda Ascendant couldn't be described as anything less than unadulterated heaven. The bed was nearly three times as large as Harper's own and was covered in multihued pillows. There was a bar filled with an assortment of fine liquors (that he regrettably wasn't allowed to touch) and a vidscreen larger than the one aboard the Maru. He hadn't checked the bathroom facilities yet, but Harper would be almost willing to bet his supply of Sparkys that the sink was made of gold.
"Hmm."
Harper turned his attention back to the game of GO set up on the table beside him. Across from him Beka sat starring hard at the layered board. The blonde pilot scratched her cheek in thought before suddenly perking up and, with a grin Harper could only describe as wicked, moved her small blue playing piece two squares over. She was nearing a win.
Harper glanced down in shock and muttered, "Oh."
Beka smiled brightly. "What? Didn't see that coming?"
"Actually I was thinking about something else," Harper said. Using his index finger to slide his own piece a square over, he efficiently blocked Beka from moving into a victory position. "GO. I should have done that two moves ago, I don't know what I was thinking."
Beka stared down in shock. The little bugger had beaten her. He always beat her. Damn. She sighed and began clearing the pieces. "Yeah, well, you're a little off."
"I don't feel off. I feel… I feel fine. No headaches, no tension, no dead friends coming for a visit," he answered.
"That's because it was just stress," Beka said as she placed all the GO pieces away in a tiny cloth bag. "And I have a very calming effect on stressed out people." She grinned again. "How about a game of Seck?"
"Eh, I'm not very good at Seck."
"Good!" Beka exclaimed eagerly. "Get the cards."
Harper sighed and stood up, ambling towards the room's oversized bureau. As he stretched out his hand to grasp the handle of the door, a sudden noise caught his attention. It was the same soft whistling sound he'd heard earlier in his quarters-- the distinct pop-hiss of a seal breaking. Harper's hand wavered as he realized it was coming from within the cabinet.
Seamus turned his head back towards Beka but found the space pilot nonchalantly putting away their previous game. His eyes drifted back towards the bureau and he took a step forward. His hand now rested on the handle. It wasn't real, it couldn't be real. Beka would have heard something…
But no matter how hard he tried to justify that the noise couldn't exist, his brain insisted that he was hearing something. Taking a deep breath and gripping the second handle with his other hand, Harper jerked the doors open.
There was no darkness, only the backing of the bureau. Extra blankets and other amenities lined the shelves but no stars twinkled in the background. Over the extra bedding on a higher shelf, however, was a silver box filled with card and dice games from all over the galaxy. Harper took hold of the container with one hand and pulled the doors shut on the cabinet. Swallowing his previous fear, he returned to his seat.
Beka took the offered box and found the Seck cards. Shuffling them like one of the pros Harper watched on the Seck Championship vids, the captain began to deal. Harper took his cards and mentally took inventory. A pair of grims, a kin and bos. Mediocre, but not necessarily losing cards. As Seamus put his kin card face down he looked up at Beka… and gasped.
A greenish parasite was slowly inching its way across the table and towards his unaware friend. The slime left behind by the creature steamed an instant on the table's surface before corroding it completely through. After their first dealings with the disastrous slugs from Virgil 4, Harper could identify one anywhere. How the hell had one managed stay aboard all this time? It had been months since they'd destroyed the rest of them.
"Um…. Boss…"
Beka looked up. "Yeah?" The blonde captain still seemed oblivious to the creature, even as it began to crawl across her exposed forearm. Harper nearly choked on the smell of burning flesh and bone.
"Boss… how… um… are you feeling okay?"
This time his friend smiled as the creature ascended her arm. "I'm good. Really good actually."
Harper couldn't take it any longer. He lunged for the creature, desperate to get it off of her. The instant he was up and jumping nearly across the table, Beka's instincts kicked in and she pushed away from table, barely managing to escape his tackle.
"Harper?" she asked carefully.
The engineered dove for her again but Beka was quicker. She managed to get both arms out in time to shove Harper backwards and away from her.
"Harper?! What the hell are you doing?!"
"It's on you! I have to get it off!" Harper screamed frantically. He made another leap but Beka caught his arms, struggling with him.
"There's nothing on me damnit! Harper!" She shook him as he tried to wriggle free. "Snap out of it!"
Her yell seemed to do the trick and Harper suddenly stopped fighting. He took a step backwards and his eyes searched the room before matching Beka's gaze. "It… it was hurting you, I couldn't let it hurt you… I'm sorry"
Harper's panicked eyes widened and he dropped to his knees. His mouth opened as if to say something else, but before he could utter another word his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.
