Part 4

"Can you at least let go of me?" Harper asked wearily. For the past hour one of the guards had kept a tough hold on his shoulder and it was beginning to ache. He was stood in one of the many caverns of Marika's hide out, an area assigned to the creatures he had helped to home grow forming Marika's army of disfigured attempts at creating a new Vedran age.

Coming from Earth, Harper usually found it hard to be squeamish about appearances, he had seen some horrors from starvation, Magog attacks and Uber ill treatment, but he truly could not stomach what these creations looked like under their heavily wrapped layers. It even felt creepy to him just being around them like this. These 'things' would never ever be a part of anything he would associate himself with in later years, Harper decided, if he ever got to his later years. These beings were never a part of his plans to make his ma and pa proud.

Naturally there was no answer, and Harper wasn't expecting one knowing the guards didn't have the intellect to speak; they could only listen and follow orders. They understood language to some extent, but had no ability to express their thoughts verbally. He had made them that way to prevent them answering back and giving Marika more reasons to get mad at him, only when these beings started to actually resemble the finish product was he considering giving them a voice.

"Look, at least tell me why I'm here, what's going on?" Harper then asked with some confusion, and found a couple of the monsters turn to him. Already things were odd, these creatures only ever acted on Marika's or, to some extent, his orders, so when they turned up like they had he took it for granted that they were there because Marika had summoned him. Never before had they brought him to their area, and for no obvious reason, and slight chills of doubt began to rise within Harper.

Then to Harper's amazement one of his creations began gesturing to the door, and then crossed his arms repeatedly. Harper watched the action a couple of times, before realising the guard was trying to communicate.

"When did you guys start to sign language?" Harper asked with genuine confusion, and more to himself. "Ok, let's see if I'm understanding this," Harper began. "Out there," Harper repeated the gestured towards the door. "No go?" he checked as he copied the crossing of arms motion.

The guard nodded his head and Harper could only show surprise, these things were communicating with him. "I can't go out there?" Harper checked and again the guard nodded. "Why not?" Harper asked.

Three of the guards now exchanged looks, and Harper wasn't sure if they were communicating is some crude way or just looking for reassurance. One of the guards then approached Harper and grabbed his upper arms.

"Hey," Harper protested, feeling the tight grip. The guard let go, and then hit his own chest before grabbing Harper again, this repeated a couple of times before Harper ordered him to stop. "Me, you want me?" Harper wasn't sure what they were meaning by this action and the guard shaking his head confirmed this. The guard grabbed his arms again. "Me?" Harper asked and the guard nodded his head eagerly before then hitting his own chest. "You?" Harper figured, before being grabbed again. "You need me?" Harper frowned unsure, but was surprised to find all the guards now actively nodding their heads. "You need me and that's why I can't go out there?" Harper asked, feeling a moment of joy at the crude form of communication.

Harper smiled for a moment before turning back to the guard showing the obvious skill for mime. "So what do you need?" he asked, and immediately felt the tight grip on his arms again. "Ok, so you need me, I get that, but why?"

Before Harper could stop him, the guard pushed Harper back against the rocky wall and held him there, a few of the other guards surrounded him effectively blocking his escape and Harper noticed through the gaps a couple of other guards move to the door. Normally, this could have seriously freaked Harper out but he felt no threat, and he realised the actions were not supposed to contain him.

"You need me safe?" Harper spoke up. "You're protecting me?"

The guards all turned and nodded their heads and Harper tried not to laugh, the situation was getting quite surreal.

"Who are you protecting me against?" Harper had to ask. "Marika?" he checked, realising a mime of that woman could become anything.

The guards all nodded their heads. "So I'm here because you want to protect me from Marika?" Harper confirmed, and felt a little bit of pride in his creations until the guard approached him again. A covered hand prodded Harper's chest, and then returned to its owner's chest. "I, you?" Harper began.

The guard then unwrapped the bindings around his neck and pulled the rotten rags that formed his uniform aside to reveal a mishmash of disfigured skin that the guard than ran his finger down.

"You've lost me," Harper admitted, trying not to look at the scarred skin.

The guard showed a moment of frustration and Harper found his chest being prodded again.

"I?" Harper checked finding he was right.

Without warning the guard then grabbed Harper's shirt and ripped it. "Hey!" Harper protested angrily, and moved away. "What the hell are you doing?"

Unable to answer, the guards instead grabbed Harper and held him in place. Harper was suddenly weary of his situation, tensing up he stared wide eyed at the creatures around him. The guard approached again and this time prodded Harper's now bare chest roughly with a rag covered hand, and he kept prodding until Harper reluctantly spoke.

"I," Harper stated, clearly not so willing to play along now.

The guard finally removed his hand from Harper's chest and touched his own, and once again waited for Harper to speak. With petulance, Harper sneered his reply.

"You."

Harper watched as his creation ran the clothed hand down the ugly and disfigured chest, before flinching slightly as the hand returned to his own chest and ran along the flawless skin in comparison. The being then looked at Harper, keeping his hand on Harper's chest.

"I don't know what you're saying," Harper admitted, not even wanting to guess.

The guard grabbed Harper's hand under protest and placed it against his disfigured skin. Closing his eyes, Harper felt the nasty scarred tissue and tried to move his hand away, but the guard kept it in place. Harper felt uncomfortable now, and wanted to get away feeling powerless in their hold. The guards were not supposed to be capable of communication and this situation was just steering a little too past weirdness for his liking.

Harper still had his eyes closed when he felt a sudden movement and then the shock of a clothed hand catch him hard across the cheek, sending him to the ground in pain. With his hands now free, Harper clutched his cheek and tried to recover his breath before he was pulled up once more, and held firmly by the guards, despite his attempts to free himself.

"Ow!" Harper finally stressed angrily towards the guard who had struck him. "Look, I don't get what you're saying, ok?" he snapped with frustration. "Maybe I got lucky the first time!"

The guard simply prodded Harper again and waited, and with a heavy sigh Harper wearily responded.

"I," he shrugged.

This time the guard put a hand on Harper's exposed chest and stroked it before putting his other hand on his own chest and doing likewise. A cold fear began to rise inside of Harper as he began to see what the guard might be saying.

"Like me?" Harper checked and there was a flash of understanding, and a nod of a head from the guard. "You want me," Harper slowly began and all around him heads began to nod. "To make you, like me?" he checked and when the guards all around him began to wildly agree, Harper felt as though he had been kicked in the gut.

"I can't do that," Harper then spoke with fear, and the room immediately fell silent.

The guards suddenly all seemed to rush forward, marching Harper back and he soon found himself pressed up against the rocky wall, the stone immediately aggravating his sore back and he flinched as the lead guard leaned far too close for comfort.

A wrapped finger once against prodded Harper's chest, more abruptly this time. Harper controlled his fear and looked at the being. "There's nothing I can do, believe me I've tried," Harper insisted.

Two heavy hands pushed against Harper's chest with force, causing Harper to involuntarily cry out as his back once again made contact with the rough stone.

"I'm sorry," Harper stressed, through gritted teeth, and for the moment it seemed as though he had said enough to make them stop. The guards moved away, leaving Harper to gain a short distance from the wall.

"Did you bring me here to make me help you?" Harper then tentatively asked. "Or because you feared Marika handing me over to the police?"

The guards turned back to him, and the lead one gestured to Harper before patting his own chest.

"I made you," Harper concluded from their actions and the guards nodded. Harper sighed, and in some ways he wished there was something he could do but he was lost as to what.

A sudden nearby explosion caught all of their attentions and then they heard voices, and Harper recognised them both. "Doyle?" he questioned having also heard Marika, but before he could call out he felt his whole body being practically lifted and then he was falling, before crashing to a stop in a painful heap. Above him a trap door was shut, and all the light was gone.

"Crap," Harper stressed, he felt numbness around his shoulders but he didn't want to be left amongst these monsters he had created. "DOYLE!" Harper screamed. "MARIKA!" he yelled as loudly as he could, and repeatedly until finally the hatch above opened but instead of Doyle and Marika, two of the guards jumped down.

Immediately the first one to land covered Harper's mouth with his rags around his hand. Harper struggled but a sharp pain in his shoulder gave him little manoeuvrability, and then the second guard grabbed Harper's kicking legs and he was finally contained.

Harper could hear movement above now but was powerless to make his presence known. He should have waited, he chided himself, at least until Marika and Doyle had arrived before shouting. Now he was practically being suffocated by one of the guards, and the other made sure he could hardly move a muscle.

With resignation, Harper relaxed and tried to control his breathing. The stench of the rags across his nose and mouth was making him feel sick, being pressed into the ground reminded him of his sore back and he had no idea what he had done to his shoulder when he had landed, after being thrown into this pit, but it hurt like hell now.

Another explosion was heard, and dust and small debris fell around them. Moments later there were loud noises, shouting and the hatch opened again, more of the guards fell into the pit landing on the two holding Harper down. There was something different, Harper noticed as bodies fell around and on top of him; the guards falling in were no longer alive.

"Hey!" Sembler yelled above the noise, as he got up onto the bar top to get everyone's attention. "Listen up, we're hearing news!"

As the noise quickly settled to a low hum Dylan, Rhade, Beka and Trance turned to face Sembler from their table in the corner, as he continued.

"The tech police have not completely disbanded, despite their surrender," Sembler began. "A small group have taken revenge, we're hearing of a bloody battle, and Marika is dead!"

A huge cheer went up around the bar and many glasses were clinked together in celebration of the news.

"Her base has been gutted, all those creatures and her work has been destroyed," Sembler's tone quickly hushed the bar. "We are hearing of no survivors."

Dylan glanced around the bar, and then to his crew. Immediately he knew they were thinking the same as he was.

"Some of us here had family or friends who were slaves to that woman, and some of us here refuse to believe that anyone could be a slave to that woman," Sembler glanced at the table where Beka was sat. "But no one worked for her willingly and I fear we have now lost them in this war, they are all casualties of our freedom and we will never forget them!"

A huge cheer of approval sounded, and then random names began to be cried out to remember those who were now feared lost. No words were said between Dylan, Rhade, Trance and Beka, until Sembler raised his glass.

"Seamus Harper and Doyle," Sembler offered, and Beka immediately got to her feet and left the bar.

Once outside Beka covered her mouth desperate to keep her emotions in check, she took some deep breaths and looked upwards.

"Beka," Dylan calmly spoke, as he cautiously approached. "There's no evidence or fact supporting Sembler's claims."

"I started this for Harper, ok?" Beka returned abruptly, her voice etched with distress. "It wasn't a need to break the tedium, and it wasn't just something to do. I wanted to disband the tech police for Harper!"

"I know," Dylan admitted, having suspected as much. "Your protests that it had nothing to do with Harper made it obvious that it was."

"And you still helped?" Beka checked.

"You were fighting for freedom, and the tech police would have provided us with too many problems ourselves later down the line," Dylan considered. "Plus, if the tech police were in any way hindering Harper's ability to live as a free man, I wouldn't wish that upon him."

"What if he's dead now because of what we did?" Beka asked.

"Ask yourself if you really believe he is," Dylan stated. "Do you actually believe Seamus Harper is dead?"

"No," Beka reluctantly agreed. "He survived worse than a renegade attack."

"Harper is a survivor and if Marika's base came under attack then I know Harper found a way out, or a good place to hide," Dylan offered a brief smile.

"You better hope he's alive because you're getting my hopes up here, and you don't want to see me if that hope is taken away again," Beka stressed. "I've been telling myself now for days that I hate him, yet first mention that he could be dead and I lose it," Beka then sniffed and wiped her eyes, composing herself quickly.

"You're incapable of hating Harper," Dylan embraced Beka now. "You have only felt the way you have these past few days because he let you down, but you never hated him, you love him, you told me that yourself, he's your soul mate."

"My soul mate," Beka grinned.

"Nothing has changed," Dylan assured her. "Next time you see him, talk to him, and tell him how you feel."

"What do you mean?" Beka pulled away unsure. "Confess to him that I love him? He'll laugh in my face," Beka stressed.

"I said talk to him, not propose to him," Dylan returned with amusement, and then frowned. "Unless?" he prompted.

"No!" Beka snapped quickly. "I just misunderstood what you were telling me," Beka explained. "I need to talk to him, properly, talk to him, you're right," she then readily agreed, but seemed at odds.

"If he is still alive," Dylan offered and Beka sharply turned round to face him.

"He is, I know it, now I'm thinking straight I just know he's not dead," Beka grinned confidently.

"I needed to hear that," Dylan gestured to Beka to join him, and they both returned to the bar.

TBC