Chapter 4

"Come what may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day."
- Shakespeare, Macbeth I, III


To a normal being, outer space was a vast wasteland of nothingness. It was to be flown in and dumped in, it was a place to blow other ships apart or, like her predecessor Vex, to die in. To Trance, space was ethereal and beautiful. While others saw emptiness, she saw life. Stars blossoming and then fading far beyond what the physical eyes could see, planets rich with growing life forms. There were nebulas containing indescribable colors, unexplored slipstream paths waiting to be used, and galaxies that human eyes would never look upon.

She found solace in space. Just staring out into it and feeling all the life around her. Trance had been gazing at it for some time now, her thoughts a mixed fusion of images. She had tried to find a remedy, a perfect future where Harper was whole again. But what she saw… what she saw she had not yet been able to fully understand.

She could find no solution, only more questions. Harper's path ahead was filled with so much uncertainty. It was as if he was being pulled into a dark tunnel, all the while struggling to keep his hold on the lip of it but always sinking lower. The insanity was pulling him deeper and no matter how much he fought against it, it seemed to be winning. Trance knew this much: if they did not find a way to pull him back from the darkness he would be lost in it. Forever.


The deck plating was cold beneath her but Beka didn't have the energy nor the motivation to attempt to stand. No, she was content sitting here alone, back firmly planted against the bulkhead a few feet from the Med Deck doors. A dozen or so of the new crew had passed her, either giving her sympathetic glances or just staring at the frazzled woman plopped down on the deck. Not that she cared what a couple of High Guard flunkies thought of her. If she wanted to sit here alone in the corridors, her ass cold and getting numb… it was her Devineforsaken right to!

Beka sighed and pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them. "Damn," she muttered, "damn damn damn."

This wasn't right. She should be able to stand up and go back in there, ready to face whatever she might see… but she didn't think she could. Not for a while anyway. She'd been sitting with Harper for several hours, watching, waiting, not able to do a single thing for him as he screamed about things coming after him. There had been moments of clarity, instances where she had seen the real Harper surface just long enough to shakily smile up at her and then disappear back into the madness.

He was a good kid. He didn't deserve this. 'No,' Beka reprimanded herself, 'Harper was not a kid.' He had not been a kid for a very, very long time. He'd never had a childhood like hers, even as debauched as her own had been. He hadn't had regular birthday or Christmas gifts. On her eighth birthday, Beka had gotten her own VR dollhouse set that she'd played with for about a week. Harper had spent his eighth birthday hiding from a Magog raid that had killed his aunt and nearly taken his father from him.

Beka loved that little mudfoot more than she had ever loved anyone else, save for possibly her father, brother, and Uncle Sid (before of course he became the bastard that he was now). He had brought something back to her life when she'd kicked Bobby out. After him she'd thought her life was over.

Oh, she went on living, but some wouldn't call that life. Doing jobs across the galaxy with no more emotion than a Vedran slug. If Harper hadn't been there… Beka couldn't imagine herself even being alive. It took her at least two weeks to really pay attention to the little blonde creature roaming her ship. It was only when she did that things began to change. She had started laughing once more, and smiling. She was genuinely pleased to wake up in the mornings again, if only to marvel at Harper's freakishly strange addiction to coffee as she sat down to breakfast.

Over the years Harper had become her base. There had come others she loved and cared about. Trance, Rev, Dylan, Andromeda, Tyr… but Seamus was her center. Now it felt as if that foundation was cracking. What would she do when he was finally lost to her?

Approaching footfalls pulled her from her contemplation and she watched through her bent knees a large pair of boots come to a stop before her. They weren't spit shined like most High Guard issued footwear, which meant it wasn't a flukie or Dylan. They were clean, though well worn over the years.

Beka spoke, but did not look up. "What do you want, Tyr?"

Tyr, standing high above the pilot, crossed his arms. "Dylan wanted you to know that we'll be arriving within the hour."

"What? Andromeda couldn't have told me that?" Beka asked, finally raising her head. "Why'd Dylan send you? Were you bored or something?"

Tyr stared down at her a moment before replying evenly, "I volunteered so I could see how the Little Professor was doing."

Beka felt like a massive heel. "Oh. Well, um," she looked down at her knees, "he-- he isn't doing so well to tell you the truth. I don't know what I can do anymore. It's like he's going crazy one tiny bit at a time. "

The Nietzschean settled himself down next to Beka and stared off into the empty corridor. After a moment he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I believe that an Earth author once theorized that true, unadulterated madness could not be achieved without significant intelligence. I suppose in Harper's case… he was right."

To anyone observing, the speaker would have been taken as terribly uncouth or heartless about the situation. But Beka knew Harper. She knew and understood that the occasionally cocky engineer would have said the same thing in a split second had he been able.

Suddenly Beka was laughing. And as she laughed, the giggles soon turned into hiccupped breathes and then, finally, silent tears that she couldn't control anymore.

Initially Beka was too caught in her grief to feel Tyr's arm around her, but as he wordlessly comforted her, she finally leaned into him and mourned for her friend.


too late. it was too late. the nietzschean was coming for him again. the same one who had tried earlier. there had been others, but he could distinguish this one simply by the way the corpse smirked.

he didn't understand why his friends didn't help him. the things would taunt him and touch him and he would plead for trance to just step over and stop it. but like always the alien did nothing. she stood with her back to him ignoring it all. beka had been here earlier too, sitting next to him, oblivious to the spirit's jeers she tried to talk to him. he couldn't understand what she'd been saying. every time he tried to explain what was happening she would look away.

why didn't they believe him? wasn't it clear what was going on? the nietzscheans wanted him. they were dead and needed his body to walk amongst the living. he couldn't let them win. the niets could never win as long as he lived and tried. lived and fought. lived and died only for their defeat. his father had taught him that, so long ago he could barely remember how old he was when he learned that lesson.

"harper…"

he began to breath so quickly his lungs ached. too late. it was back. too late. Oh god… somebody help…


The Andromeda Ascendant dropped out of slipstream before the Perseid inhabited world of Sinti Four and waited for confirmation of its landing request. Dylan had contacted the Sinti Council of Directors a day ago in the hope that their Medical Science Department might have some insights into Harper's condition. He didn't expect the Perseids to have a cure for this illness, but it was possible the academically astute race and done research into it and might be willing to help.

The Command Deck doors opened and Tyr and Beka entered together. His second in command looked better than she had a few hours ago and Dylan wondered what the Nietzschean had said to her to cause such a change.

"Have they responded?" Valentine asked, wasting no time in making her way upfront.

Dylan stepped off of the pilot's dais and shook his head. "Give them a moment, we just arrived in the system. I'm sure they-"

"Captain," Andromeda interrupted, appearing on the view screen. "The Sinti Council of Directors has sent us verification to dock the Maru in port 62A. Technical Director Rekeeb will meet you there."

"Thank you, Andromeda," Dylan said. "Com Trance and tell her to get Harper ready for transport."

"Aye," the ship answered and disappeared.

Dylan turned back towards Beka. "Is the Maru ready?"

"As she'll ever be," Beka said, looking resolute though letting a quick smile slip.

Hunt raised an eyebrow. Tyr was good.


An hour and a half later the Maru was docked at one of Sinti's many ports. As promised, Director Rekeeb met the ship as it landed. The jittery Perseid boarded, eager to help in any way possible.

"After Doctor Hohne's passing, the Sinti Council promoted me to Technical Director." He looked down at the floor, appearing to examine his boots carefully. "The last time we met I did not conduct myself with proper decency. After Hohne's death I was… irrational. I assure--"

"Director," Dylan interrupted, "you apologized enough the first time. You were in shock and confused. We were all troubled by Hohne's death. Let's not dwell in what happened in the past and dig up old demons."

"Yes, of course," Rekeeb said, finally raising his gray head. "May I see Mr. Harper?"

Dylan nodded, but added, "Don't expect much. He's heavily sedated right now."

Hunt led the Technical Director to the Maru's crew quarters where Harper had been placed for the journey to Sinti. The Perseid swallowed hard as he entered the room. He took a step towards the bed and paused, glancing at Beka who was sitting on the opposite bunk, and then back at the ill human.

"Hohne spoke nothing but praise for Mr. Harper," Rekeeb said. "It was not until sometime after his death that I finally realized Hohne would have wanted that day to stay the way it went. He believed Mr. Harper's intellect to be more… unique… than his own." He smiled, showing a row of grayish flat teeth. "Not that he would have told anyone else of course."

"Harper felt the same about Hohne," Beka said quietly. "And he would appreciate that you came."

"Yes, thank you," Rekeeb answered, turning his full attention to Hunt once more. "I have no expertise in medical science as you know, but I have many friends within the department. I thought it would be helpful for you to have a sort of… guide while on Sinti."

"We're grateful," Dylan said. "We were told there would be a transport for Harper arriving shortly upon landing."

"Oh yes, yes," Rekeeb confirmed. "They should be here briefly. Let me contact Doctor Keenan. He will be the specialist you speak with while you are here."

While Rekeeb went to reach the Medical Director, Dylan stayed behind to speak with Beka. He looked a moment at the pale engineer lying across from them and sighed. "You realize he will have to institutionalized while the doctors work," he said.

"Yes."

Dylan nodded. "It's what's best. We all know he can't stay aboard the Andromeda. It's not equipped for a situation like this. It will be better for him here."

Beka didn't look up, but the tension in her voice was enough to tell him what she was feeling. "I know."

Dylan put a hand on her shoulder. "They'll find something."

Beka didn't answer.


they were moving him. where were they taking him? the Nietzscheans were gathering around him sneering. his friends were taking him to them! 'they wouldn't!' harper frantically thought.

'dylan… please! i know i'm a pain but don't do this! please! trance, you can do something. i've seen you do amazing things!'

but there was no other explanation. they were handing him over to them. he was being placed in what looked like a glass tube and someone was wrapping a blanket around him and pulling straps around his waist.

'beka! don't you see them? beka just look okay, for me. we have to stop them, you can't let them have me! why won't you listen to me?'

another strap went across his chest. 'no no no no no no! stop! leave me alone!' something pricked his arm and he fell back gasping for air.

someone took his hand and he leaned towards the figure. his vision blurted even more but he gripped the hand to his and squeezed tightly.

'please no, don't leave me for them!'

his sight cleared in time to see dead eyes staring down at him and he realized he was grasping cold, clammy fingers.

he screamed until blessed darkness finally washed over him.


Doctor Keenan, the lead researcher of the Sinti Medical Department, had received Seamus Harper's medical information an hour prior to his shipmates' arrival. Though an expert in his respected field of pharmaceutical science, Keenan knew what the human was battling may be beyond his own extensive knowledge.

The Andromeda's captain, his first officer, and ship's medic (a species of golden alien Keenan had never heard of before) sat before him. The other human was currently sedated in the medical care wing awaiting a transport to the psychiatric ward.

Doctor Keenan drew his hands together and set them on his desk. "As your ship has already informed you, schizophrenia in Perseids is rare. It is principally a human malady. The most famous paranoid schizophrenic case of our kind was Wayfinder Hasturi. I believe you refer to him as 'The Mad Perseid.'"

"We definitely know of him," Valentine said. "Kept a diary, yadda yadda."

Keenan nodded, showing every bit of his people's legendary humor. "Yes, the story is quite famous." He picked up a nearby flexi. "This is all the analyzed information we have on the disease you friend is suffering from. Several years ago a group of scientists in our very department were doing a study of different mental ailments. We made significant progress in several Perseid sicknesses, however, schizophrenia was not fully explored, due simply to the fact that it was not a common problem."

Hunt's second in command seemed to slump father into her seat. "So there's no hope," she said.

"Not necessarily," Doctor Keenan replied, shaking his head. "Though we do not have a cure, we believe we may be able to manufacture an antipsychotic medication which could help relieve the hallucinations and delusions he is suffering from. It may also better regulate his dopamine levels and correct the imbalance."

"It's that easy?" Hunt asked.

Keenan smiled. Obviously the captain and his crew cared greatly for the boy. "Nothing is certain. However, we will try our best. Even if the drug does succeed, there will be side effects, though hopefully less problematic as the disease itself. It would also be in his best interest to attend psychotherapy. We have many doctors here who would be willing to assist in the process."

"So what comes next?" Valentine asked impatiently.

"We will get Mr. Harper settled into the ward for the time being," Keenan answered. "Then we will need to give the researchers time. How long I cannot say. Everyone will have to take this one day at a time."

As he finished speaking, Valentine stood up and walked to Keenan's window. She stared off into one of the many gardens planted in the hospital's yard. Patients from all over the galaxy were roaming outside, getting just a touch of fresh air before they were once again whisked back into the their rooms. In his condition, Harper wouldn't even be able to enjoy the small luxury of walking outside on real grass for quite a long awhile

"Just time." The pilot sighed bitterly and closed her eyes. "Just…. time."