Thank you again for your wonderful reviews! Now that I have diverged enough from the original text of this fic, things are taking a bit longer to write. I am hoping to post every two weeks on Fridays!


He heard her footsteps first, directly above, moving across the deck. He looked over as a pair of soft leather slouchy boots with sensible flat soles poked through the opening in the deck, one boot stretching down, searching for the next rung on the ladder. With the first one mastered the boots continued their careful descent revealing a pair of thin legs wrapped in dark green leggings, followed by hips draped in emerald, a grey satchel pressed against one side. Stretch, tap, move.

Slow.

Steady.

Halfway down the pace slowed to a near halt, carefulness giving way to uncertainty. Time to intervene.

He stood, disconnecting himself from the mainframe and untangling his limbs from the mess of tangled wires he had pulled from the console, leaving them behind in a colorful jumble on the deck to sort out later with Andromeda grumbling at him about rewiring her to spec. Or some other such nonsense only important to organized people.

"Lemme guess, after yesterday you're feeling invincible and decided that this is it, today is the day you conquer the ladders?" He took position just below her, looking up through the opening.

"Something like that." Her voice lacked confidence. From this angle he could not see her expression, but her knuckles were white as she held tight to the bar.

"How's that working out for you?" After yesterday's performance, it was better to let her seek help than assume she needed it.

"About as well as you'd expect. Not my most well thought out of plans," she said shakily. He assessed the situation, calculating his height against her position on the ladder in case she needed a rescue. Why hadn't the gods, in their infinite wisdom, seen fit to bless him with Dylan's height? His biceps wouldn't hurt either.

"Hold on, I think I can do this," she said after a moment. She tilted her head. He now saw the determined set of her jaw, and the deep lines of concentration on her forehead. After taking a deep breath and letting it out in a slow audible stream, she reached down to the next rung, giving it a tentative tap with her boot. Assured of its location, she let go with one hand, grabbed the next rung down, settled in, then followed with the next foot. Step by painstaking step on shaky legs and trembling arms she moved down. Making it.

Until she wasn't.

Three rungs from the bottom she landed on the side of her foot, twisting her ankle. As her foot slipped she tried to catch herself, but her arms, already overworked, weren't up to the task and she fell backwards.

Where the gods had skimped on his height, they had made up for in quick thinking and fast reflexes. He darted forward and caught her, setting her upright in front of him before she fell to the ground. They stood with their noses only a few centimeters apart, her lips parted, eyes wide, filled with confusion and surprise. He was surprised, too.

On Earth, and pretty much anywhere else in the known worlds, she would not have survived her illness Not without massive amounts of money. If she had, and against all the odds woken up, she would still be confined to her bed, unable to walk more than a few steps. But, with Andromeda's pre-Fall medical facilities, access to cutting edge treatments on the High Guard's dime—partly because of connections he'd forged in the scientific community—and a lot of hard and painful work, emphasis on hard, she had almost made it down a ladder less than a month after waking. Would have made it if she hadn't stepped wrong. Score one for Trance, still working miracles.

"Thanks for the rescue," she said after several long moments, a half smile on her lips. Harper realized that he was staring at her, mouth agape. About the same time, he also noticed his hands, which had somehow landed on the space above her hip bones of their own volition, were not touching fabric, but bare skin.

He broke eye contact to look down, surprised to find that while her dress, a simple long-sleeved affair that flared out at the hip and cut off mid thigh, had looked solid from the back, an oval cutout stretched from one hip to the other across her midriff. His eyes lingered on the red and gold that surrounded her navel before he thought to look up again.

How long before this gets awkward? He asked himself. If you have to ask, it already has. Crap. Okay, just move your hands. No big deal. Happens all the time.

His hands defied him, remaining in place, her body heat radiating through them.

"You're, um, welcome," he replied, flustered.

What the hell, Seamus?

The Maru was a small ship and Trance's clothing hadn't always been so modest. It wasn't like he hadn't touched her bare skin before. Or seen her flat stomach. Or watched her walking around with nothing but a towel wrapped around her. Or observed the curve of her hipbones, airbrushed in red and gold disappearing beneath the waistband of her pants... How far did that dusting of color go down?

Don't. Even. Go. There.

Curious Harper would get him into trouble one day. Surprising he hadn't already.

"When I said drop by anytime, I didn't mean literally," he said after a beat as she did not seem inclined to speak. Impressive, the tone of practiced nonchalance that slipped out of his mouth. Nothing to see here. "Not that I'm not happy to catch you anytime, but if you'd called down, I would've come up to you."

Her face was so close. For a second he wondered what would happen if he leaned in and kissed her. Oh boy, he needed to take a step back. But, how to do that without making the situation even more awkward? What was it with women and their beautiful curves and their soft warm skin and their smelling like sunshine and flowers? Okay, that last part was just Trance. And why did she have that thoughtful spark in her eyes? On second thought, nothing there. Just an overactive imagination on his part.

Control yourself, man.

"I know. I wanted to see if I could make it and almost did. It's wonderful," She smiled, cute little parenthesis forming around her lips. Lips he was definitely not thinking about.

She should pull away. It would saved him a lot of trouble. Instead she stayed in place, looking at him with those soul searching eyes as his hands happily remained where they were, held there by force of gravity. Had to be gravity because he had lost control.

Say something .

"That's a nice dress."

Not that.

A congratulations might have been a better option. Perhaps telling her it was wonderful she made it so far down? A note she seemed well rested and happy after fourteen hours of sleep, even. But, no. Instead, he commented on her dress. Way to call attention to the fact he was a little more appreciative of it than he ought to be.

Her eyebrows did a quick little jump, eyes twinkling beneath them. Her smile stretched even larger before she pulled her lips together, biting one corner, eyes fixed on him, glinting playfully. She found something amusing. He didn't have to guess what. Started with H, ended with R.

"I found it in a box of old things at the back of my closet. I don't think I ever wore it, but it's comfortable," she explained. Come to think of it, shehad been favoring the curve hugging softer fabrics she had worn when purple instead of the more formal outfits of the last year...

He told his brain to stop fixating on Trance's clothing. It misfired and instead flashed pictures of his favorites from her old wardrobe. Those hot pants she used to wear on the Maru could make a comeback, perhaps with that little bikini top. His eyes strayed down once more to where his hands rested and he snapped them back up again, concentrating on maintaining eye contact.

She followed his gaze and pulled her lips into a tight-lipped grin—a barrier to hold back laughter. Couldn't keep it out of her eyes though. Couldn't stop her shoulders from dancing. He swallowed. If he didn't know better, he would swear she was flirting with him without saying a word.

"What are you doing in the Communications Hub?" she asked after a few decades of silence. As she changed the subject, she pulled away, and he got the distinct impression she was letting him off the hook. Giving him a graceful way out. How thoughtful.

His hands remained suspended in the air for a moment before he let them drop to his sides, the surrounding air suddenly empty, nothing but static. Cold even. He turned and watched her sidestep the safety hazard he'd left on the deck and kneel in front of the open console, surveying his work with open curiosity. She grabbed his diagnostic flexi, looking it over for clues. When he didn't move towards her, she looked up over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised, grin still there. Okay, not completely off the hook.

He collected himself, forcing himself to change gears. He had to change gears. Start down a new track. Shake it off. Whatever one did when he considered kissing his best friend. Because, while he rarely took notice of this sort of thing, Trance was out of his league. Galaxies out, in fact. Her brother was the freaking Sun. What did a sun do if you broke his sister's heart? Friendship was good. Friendship was safe.

Now if only his hormones would listen.

"I'm trying to track down the static residue from the resistance message, but all I have here is a mess," he said and made his way over. Good. His voice didn't betray him. She looked up from the flexi, wrinkled her nose and poked at the pile. A wire sparked, and she jerked her hand back, a squeak escaping into the air.

"Mess is an accurate description," she said with a laugh. Then, tone more serious, "If there is any residue left in the static out there, the signature going to be miniscule, almost impossible to detect. It's been long enough that by now that the will have spread out pretty far. Far enough to make the search area too large to be useful."

He moved over and sat down next to her, the pile of wires between them. She pressed a few commands into the diagnostic flexi and then passed it to him. She poked the wires again, no sparks this time.

"I know, but if—and I know it's a big if—I can find it, there should be a denser trail of residue following the path of the original message. It's all I have to go on," he said. She took off her satchel, set it off to the side, and settled in cross legged next to the wires, taking a red one into one hand she traced its path through the maze with the other.

"If you manage to find the residue, it could take months to gather enough data to extrapolate a location, and it will only give us a general direction," she said. Up, around, through. Her fingers moved quickly to turn chaos into order. The red wire was already free, set neatly off to the side. "But it's a start. What do we need to do to make it happen?"

She had said 'we'. His heart jumped for some inexplicable reason. He nudged the wires with his toe. "First, we need to make sense of all this."

She looked up from her work, searching his face. "You aren't the most organized person, but this is a little beyond the usual. Pulling all the wires out of the console? Are you all right?"

Anger flared from the smouldering coals he'd been harboring in his gut since yesterday. Anger he had been trying to control. His stomach roiled from the heat of it. He clenched his jaw down tight, biting back the venomous reply that tried to slither past his lips, his inner voice reminding him in a firm tone the she asked out of care, not to have her head bitten off. Not her fault the Universe sucked. Trance's eyes widened at the change in his demeanor.

"I'm just peachy," he said after a few beats in which he wrestled unsuccessfully with his demons. He slammed his fist onto the deck beside him. Pain like lightening jolted through his wrist. "It's not like I spent an entire afternoon and night cleaning up another fucking mess created by the fucking Drago Kasov right after they tried to kill yet another person I love. Story of my life, and I am getting really freakin' tired of it."

She froze in place, holding two wires in her hands. Her her gaze bored into him. He immediately regretted losing control. This morning she had come to him in a good mood for once, and he had to ruin it. Way to go Harper. Her lips parted and then closed, turning down into a frown with deep lines around her eyes to keep it company.

"I was worried about you after yesterday, but I ended up sleeping a lot longer than I expected," she said, finally. "I wanted to come to you sooner." Her hands began to move again, teasing wires free. Another two came loose, and she laid them out next to the first. Afterwards, she set her hands on her lap, palms down.

"Don't be sorry. You needed the sleep and you shouldn't miss out on it because of me."

"You need sleep too. Did you even go to bed last night?" A fair question as it was just after 0500 and yesterday's pants looked a little worse for wear. No hope for his face. Reminded of his exhaustion, he reached for the can of Sparky Cola resting on a ledge above the console and gulped down a large mouthful, the sweet and slightly warm bubbles burning his throat.

"I slept on the Maru for like four hours," he said defensively.

"I didn't even hear you climb up there," she said with a hint of amazement.

"Yeah, you were pretty out. How're you feeling?"

She adjusted her position and stretched her back. "Better than I have at all since all this happened. Except my back kinda hurts. And I was starving when I woke up."

"Yeah, backs don't like to be in the same position for fourteen hours straight. I..." he trailed off.

...could give you a massage to help . At least he stopped himself from saying it aloud. Not hitting on Trance was turning out to be more difficult than expected. She tilted her head to the side, studying him. The twinkle returned. As if she knew what he had intended to say. A few unreadable expressions danced across her face before she settled on a mixture of calm and concern once again. And once again he felt she was letting him off the hook.

"I don't know if it helps, but they weren't trying to kill Beka," she said, returning to their earlier subject. "It was an unlucky shot. I believe they were sending a warning to her, to us, and to all other prides that would ally themselves with her. They will not accept Beka as their matriarch. But they had not meant to hurt her. In hurting her, they have put a target on themselves. Beka's DNA is irrefutable and the other prides will back her once they have tested it themselves."

A sound theory. Well grounded experience. It didn't help. Not really. But he'd never tell. "Well the others can't turn on them fast enough."

"There is more to this. Something in my gut is telling me so. Like I told Beka yesterday, something is making them brave enough to gamble with their survival. Before, I would have assumed it was the Abyss, but now, I just don't know," she said, a sharp edge to her final words. The vestiges of her good mood flaked away. They were a fine pair. Prickly balls of angst, the both of them, rolling through the highs and lows of life at breakneck speed.

Silence fell. She worked at the wires and he scanned his flexi, committing to memory the path each wire needed to follow to give this control node more power. First step in his plan to pull off a miracle. Because finding an unspecified number of human beings who didn't want to be found in three galaxies worth of stars was nothing short of miracle.

"There, that should do it," she said. The wires stretched out in rows before her. Nice and neat.

"Thanks," he replied and put down the flexi. This part of his project was pretty routine, and would result in a communications boost across the entire ship. Clearer messages. Quicker load times. Nothing to complain about that. The next step… well, he hadn't figured it out yet. But he had ideas. Lots of them. And he would say that the majority didn't involve the risk of catastrophic failure, unlike many of his brain children.

He yawned.

"Harper, I wish you would let me get you something to help you sleep."

"Are you going to take something to help you sleep?" he asked. Sure, why not sound childish and throw it back at her? He only wanted to be friends. God, she was right. He needed sleep.

"The effects of sleeping supplements are well studied in human subjects. I have no idea what they will do to me." The sharp edge again. He should have learned to think before he spoke by now.

"I don't know, Trance. Not a big fan of taking medicine to sleep."

"Not a big fan of medicine, or of sleep?" she asked, but did not press him further, falling into silence again. A hint of their shared experience. Sleep brought nightmares. Yet, a body craved it, needed it to thrive. He didn't know what he needed. A draft of forgetfulness, perhaps?

He scooted in closer so he was in front of the console. He felt her presence there, her gaze on him while he worked. How many hours had they passed this way over the years? He wrapped in mechanical zen, she in her thoughts? Just together.

This wire here. That one there. Close the circuit. Check the charge. He had control over machines—unless they were Rommie or Doyle—but that was a different story. Sometimes he wished he could become a machine himself and avoid all this complicated and unpredictable life business.

"I wanted to thank you for not arguing with me yesterday," she said after a bit. He looked up from his work to acknowledge her and turned back.

"You're the one always telling me that arguing gets you nowhere." He plugged in his dataport, wincing at the pressure in his neck. A moment later he was granted access. He keyed in on the circuits he'd already plugged in, checking the power flow. Everything was working out. He could solder it down.

She laughed. "I guess sometimes arguing does work. Andromeda told me this morning I am back on duty, per Dylan. I'm not allowed on Med Deck, but I can help you and work in hydroponics freely now. She also said you haven't finished any of the paperwork from the overhaul?"

He wrinkled his nose. "I knew I was forgetting something."

Yeah, forgetting to figure out a way out of the bureaucratic hell of requisition slips and function reports.

She laughed again. "You're hopeless."

She wasn't wrong. He tossed a lopsided smile over his shoulder.

"I try. Hey, since you are supposed to help me, can you hand…" he started to ask, but before he finished, she placed the nanowelder he needed in his open hand.

"How do you do that? I have to ask Beka for specific tools, but you always hand me exactly what I need before I ask." He looked up from the console with an eyebrow raised. She smiled and shrugged.

"I'm just observant." Traditional non-answer answer. "You hungry? I brought a snack." Followed by a change in subject. Classic. He let it slide. She reached over and grabbed her satchel.

"Yeah. I grabbed a muffin on my way off the Maru, but that was like two hours ago." He put down the nanowelder she'd just handed him, disconnected, and moved to sit next to her, back against the bulkheads, as she opened the flap of her bag and pulled out two insulated bottles. She passed one to him.

"What's in here?" he asked.

"A milkshake," she replied. He eyed the bottle, twisting it in his hands, its smooth metal brushing his palms. "A real one. Or, as close to real, at least. I programmed the autochef for the right amount of fat and sugar based on Andromeda's records. I had to use synthetic milk, though, since I don't have a clue where to get cow's milk. Maybe Rigel?" The last part she said as an apology. He stared at her, couldn't help it. Did she even realize how amazing she was? She shrunk back a little. Blinked a few times, fingers tapping her bottle.

"I've never had a real shake before. You seem to like them, and after everything that happened yesterday, I thought we might indulge a little," she explained. He hadn't meant to make her self conscious. It should be easier than this to talk to your best friend.

"This is great. Better than great." He twisted the top off his bottle to prove his point and flashed her his most appreciative expression. She relaxed.

She winked a conspiratorial wink. "It's made with coffee so it can claim to be a breakfast drink."

"You don't like coffee. You never have. And have you ever had more caffeine than was in the chocolate I gave you?"

She shrugged. "No, but it's better to try caffeine in a controlled setting then accidentally drink it without knowing its effects on me. You humans put it in everything." A small shake of of her head told him how strange she found the myriads of ways in which Humans consumed their ritual doses of mild stimulant. He chose not to enlighten her about caffeinated soap and other such wonders to be found in drift catalogs. "And, I like coffee just fine, as long as it has as much sugar as a Sparky Cola mixed in."

Fair points.

He took a drink.

Funny how single a sip could take him back to happier days. To surfing for the first time on Infinity, Beka egging him on. She didn't believe he knew how to swim, and surfing was unfathomable in her Spacer mind. Her exact words were, "Only a crazy person would submerse themselves in unfiltered water voluntarily, and don't get me started on those idiots on boards out there."

Well, he thought, he was good on a hoverboard and could swim, how different could it be? With all the bravado of an overly confident 20-year-old under the influence of alcohol he had held his hand out for her credit chip to rent a wetsuit and board.

Until the moment he stepped in the water, icy cold like the Boston harbor—but a lot cleaner—Beka had been all laughter and jabs. Real worry flashed in her eyes when she realized he was going through with it. Apparently, it had only taken two months of sharing a ship for her to to care. He didn't tell her he had never surfed before. Some things were better left unsaid. Turned out, surfing was quite different than hoverboarding. His stunt might have ended him, drowned him beneath an uncaring wave. But, the Universe had given him a pass, the first of many to come. He had been a natural.

Surfing had felt like flying. Like freedom.

Good times.

"The first time I had a shake the first time I was on Infinity Atoll with Beka at this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the Human Sector that tries to replicate 20th century American culture. I couldn't believe it. You can't… couldn't find ice cream in Boston," he said, staring at a point on the wall, unfocused. "They have a lot of old Earth culture on Infinity, probably because of the surfing."

He sighed, "It's hard to let go, you know? I keep thinking of all the things I will never see again."

"You don't have to let go, because Earth will always be a part of you. And I don't mean just memories." She touched his arm, and he blinked his eyes into focus, turning towards her again. Her eyes flickered with, what? He could not read her the way she could read him. Didn't need to though. Whatever it was, it was rooted in love. That much was clear. "You grew from the tiniest embryo sustained by the food from Earth's soil and the water from her lakes and rivers. Every cell in your body was grown on Earth and infused with her energy, just as every living thing born to her was. Energy can never be created or destroyed, only transported from place to place. You were born on Earth, so a part of you is Earth."

No words existed for the emotions swirling inside or to tell her how her words both hurt and brought comfort.

"If I could take your pain away, heal it the way I've healed your illnesses over the years, I would. There is no cure for this. Perhaps all you can do is accept that a part of yourself is gone, mourn for it, and find a way to honor it," she continued when he remained silent.

She wasn't just talking about him.

He gave a slow nod, gazing at her serious face through half closed lids. Moisture built beneath those lids, and he blinked it away. Children learned early on Earth that tears were the only plentiful currency, and also utterly useless. She reached for her bag again and pulled out a slender object. His penny whistle.

"I found this on the floor next to my bunk this morning, but you were nowhere around," she said, handing it to him. He'd left it on his bunk the other day. It must have fallen off in his sleep last night as he thrashed about. He took it from her. It was heavy in his hands though not from actual weight.

"My cousin, Brendon, gave this back to me last time I was on Earth. I threw it in my parent's grave when I was thirteen, but he rescued it. I still haven't played it. Just carried it around with me from place to place. I was going to play for him when I found his grave," he explained.

Another memory. His dad playing. His mom singing. They had escaped the slums for a day. Traveled to the outskirts of Boston to a place greener than any he had ever seen before for a picnic hosted by Wayist monks trying their hardest to give kids in the most impoverished areas of Earth a chance to have fun. To be children. He'd played soccer with his cousins, ate his fill of fresh food, forgotten for a moment he was a worthless Kludge.

His parents hadn't if the music they had chosen to play was any indication.

Hard to believe it had been seventeen years since he'd last seen them, the image was so sharp in his mind. His mother's sweet voice so clear. He spoke aloud the words his mother sang in his memory.

"But when ye come and all the roses falling

And I am dead as dead I well may be

Go out and find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an ave there for me."

Trance leaned in. "What is that?"

"The first song my father taught me how to play. Danny Boy. It's a ballad from the early 20th century. Thousands of years old. The tune is Irish, and much older."

"The words are beautiful."

"The song is more so." He rolled the flute in his hands. A piece of his father. A piece of his heritage. A piece of Earth. A part of himself he had tried to bury years ago.

Find a way to honor the part of him that was missing.

Did he even remember how?

He pressed the flute to his lips then pulled it away. He hadn't played since he was thirteen. Trance nodded her encouragement. He replaced it and took a deep breath. Then he played. It wasn't perfect. A few stumbles in the beginning. But his fingers eventually remembered the hours of practice he'd put in as a child. He closed his eyes as he played, and he let his memories flow as the notes fell from his whistle, filling the room with his melancholy, giving him some of the release tears could not. And all the while, Trance sat beside him, simply listening.


Hydroponics, deck one, section three. The part of the gardens hit hardest by water shortages on Seefra. Once bubbling fish ponds had dried up and moisture loving fruits and flowers withered and died as Andromeda took water from them to sustain the more important oxygen producing vegetation. Andromeda had sent bots in to clean the section up months ago, leaving rows of bare, neglected beds of soil and an empty pond. Dylan should have known he would find Trance here.

He held back for a moment, watching. She knelt inside a raised bed, trowel in hand, twisting the dark soil loose. She looked at peace, though if Rommie were to be believed she'd been flitting about the ship all morning with unprecedented energy, as if some of Harper's hyperactivity had infected her. The air smelled of earth, and something sweet. A persistent trickle from the refilled ponds greeted his ears. Behind her rested a pallet of two dozen wide leafed plants in biodegradable pots. A mixture of white flowers and heart-shaped fruits adorned them. In another bed which had been empty, he was surprised to see a row of trees with shiny red apples, of all things. Two faceless bots stood some distance away, hands folded in front of them, waiting to provide assistance if needed. Heavy lifters.

She turned to reach for a plant and caught him in her peripheral vision, looking up and smiling. She had tucked a few white, lace-edged flowers next to her ear. Maybe it was the flowers. Maybe just the freshness of the dream, but for a moment he saw the child she had been kneeling there instead of the woman she was. So much had changed, yet her welcoming smile had remained the same. But now was not the time for dreams. Dreams could wait.

"It's okay, you can come in," she said, motioning with her trowel to the space beside her. Soil clung to her hands and dirtied her dress. She didn't seem to mind. "I promise I won't run away."

As he stepped closer, he noticed labels scattered throughout the beds of soil, and on the racks where smaller plants usually grew. A pattern emerged as he read the names written on them in her neat handwriting.

"You're filling this section with flora from Earth," he commented as he took a seat on the ledge beside her. From this vantage he saw the heart shaped fruits better. Some were bright red, others white and green, all speckled with tiny beige seeds. He didn't know what they were. Long ago he had given her free reign to plan and order for the hydroponics without seeking approval as long she maintained the proper ratios for oxygen production. These were her gardens, and as much a labor of love as a part of her job.

"Yes, a small memorial. It isn't much, but I would like to honor her," she said, voice catching, smile fading into a mask of stoic resignation.

"That's a great idea. Want some help?" He found that these conversations were often easier held with something to occupy your hands.

"If you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

"I don't mind at all." He reached out and grabbed on of the pots and handed it to her. She placed it into a hole, then covered it, patting the soil around its base with practiced efficiency. He moved over to the tool cupboard and pulled out another trowel then returned, kneeling outside the bed across from her.

"They need to be about 45 centimeters apart," she explained and picked up one pot, pointing to a spot just below the leaves. "This is the crown. You need to leave it uncovered so the plant can send out runners and make new plants."

"I think I can do that," he replied. He removed his jacket, set it off to the side, and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic. His mother used to garden, though not with the same dedication as Trance. As a boy, he would follow along behind her, pulling weeds, and building castles for the insects out of sticks and leaves because it was a pity they had to live in the dirt while Humans and Vedrans lived in bright warm houses.

"What are these?" he asked as he placed a pot into his freshly dug hole. Trance eyed him as he worked, then gave a satisfactory nod when he proved he had been paying attention. She smiled again, warm and true. A smile from within. A little unexpected given everything she had suffered recently. She pulled a fruit from a plant and handed it to him.

"Fragaria × ananassa. Or, as Harper calls it, a strawberry. It's his favorite fruit. Have one, they're delicious." She took one for herself and bit into it, casting the stem into a bag of biodegradable waste that Andromeda would later break down and returned to the garden as fertilizer. He followed suite. It was juicier than he expected, and sweet. Almost candy-like.

"We did a cargo run to Rigel II for a rich client when I had been on the Maru for about three months. We didn't normally get such, um, reputablecommissions," she said. He raised an eyebrow at the word reputable. "One of Beka's father's friends could not do the haul himself and passed it along to her. Out of friendship or pity, we never knew. When we got there, Harper overhead that the client's parts factory was having severe mechanical issues, slowing production. He volunteered to help because Harper never misses an opportunity to show off his genius. And, the accommodations were, in his words, swanky .

"The client put us up in a fancy hotel. The kind where they put mints on your pillow. Harper and I hit the buffet for dinner since it was on our employers tab and Rigel is the number one exporter of Terran produce. He wanted a taste of home. When he saw the strawberries, he was so excited. He gorged himself on them. That night I kept him company through an awful stomach ache and he told me that his birthday was in the spring on Earth and that even though they were hard to find, and expensive, his mother always brought strawberries home to celebrate." As she finished her story, she took a leaf between her thumb and pointer fingers and rubbed it gently, a faraway look in her eyes.

It occurred to him he had learned more about Harper in the last two months than he had in years of serving with him. He never thought to ask about Harper's childhood, or his life on Earth, and Harper had never volunteered much. He needed to set more time aside for his engineer.

"So you bought these for him? If you had to export them from Rigel, they must have been expensive." His words were just something to say as he processed her story, but he was also curious, as she hadn't purchased any of these plants through official channels.

"They were expensive, but I have quite a bit of money saved up. I never bought much for myself and put most of my salary away. I wasn't supposed to stay forever. I thought when I left to return to my people I would give my savings to Beka and Harper as they could use it more than me..." She trailed off. Then she forced a smile. "Anyway, don't tell him. It's a surprise."

"It will be our little secret," he whispered, following along and ignoring the comments about her people. Deep down he had known that was her plan, to return home, yet it still took him by surprise. She would not be returning to her people now. Those savings were important. They would help her create a comfortable life for herself in the organic world when it was time to leave Andromeda. Though she had purchased these as a thoughtful gift for a grieving friend, they were still in hydroponics for anyone onboard to enjoy. After a moment he said, "Expense all of this. I know they are expensive, but I can make a case to the Commonwealth for preserving Earth's flora in an uncommercialized environment. Most of those in charge are human, and they could do with a reminder of where they came from."

She blinked and squared her shoulders, giving a sharp nod. Though she was not one for intense displays of emotion, he could see the gratitude in her eyes and could tell she understood what his offer meant, and why it had been made. "Thank you."

"It's not a problem."

They worked together in amicable silence as she planted along one side of the planter, and he the other. Every once in a while she checked in on his progress and surreptitiously corrected his work if she found it wanting. This was soothing. Relaxing. He could see why she spent so much time in her gardens.

"You didn't come down here to help me plant, or to talk about Harper," she said after a few minutes had passed. Her eyes remained on her hands as they went about their task. Pointedly so.

"No, you're right." He stopped working and looked right at her. She sat back on her heels, back straight, still looking down, but listening. "There is the small matter of you yelling at everyone and disobeying two direct orders yesterday."

She tapped the trowel, still held in one hand, against her lap, spilling more soil onto her clothing. "I am sorry I yelled at everyone. I should not have done that. When Andromeda spoke to me this morning, I apologized for being so disrespectful."

The apology for disobeying orders was conspicuous in its absence.

"We have all walked through Andromeda at one point or another, she can be a pain sometimes," he said with a wink and what he hoped was a good-natured lilt to his voice, attempting to lighten the mood. Let her know she wasn't in trouble.

"I heard that," Andromeda said and Trance laughed, some of her guard falling.

"You didn't say anything about disobeying orders," he said, taking the direct path. To dance around the subject with Trance was not an effective strategy. She looked at him now, her gaze solid and unwavering, face smooth, giving nothing away.

"I won't apologize for helping Beka, but I disobeyed orders, and I understand rules exist for a reason. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fair."

He sighed. He'd been prepared for this. Had wracked his brain most of the morning trying to figure out what to say. When Andromeda reported that Trance was finally working alone and appeared set to stay in one place, he still hadn't figured it out. He decided to improvise instead. The moment had arrived, and he still did not know what to do, but wanted to get it over with and move on. Soon, there would be an even more uncomfortable conversation. Andromeda was already . For his own selfish reasons, he wanted a break between. Peace. A chance to regroup.

Another deep breath and he said finally, "Trance, there is nothing I can do to punish you. You have been through enough already. Next time, though, tell me how you are feeling and what you need. I can't make decisions when I don't have all the information."

She looked down and to the side. When she looked up again, she gave him a nod. "I will try. Thank you for letting me work today."

He climbed up to sit on the side of the planter again, his knees objecting to kneeling on the hard ground for so long. His body was not as young as it once was, and he hated to admit it. These last five years had taken their toll. One day life would be simpler. He could hope, at least.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It seems to agree with you. Andromeda says you've been busy since early this morning and haven't rested much. How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? A little jittery. I drank coffee this morning to see what would happen. It's hard to sit still now. But, I kind of like it."

That explained a lot. He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Careful, that's borrowed energy. You'll pay for it later," he said. She climbed out of the planter and dusted off her knees and dress, then walked around to take a seat next to him. She looked up at him.

"I know. I've had that exact conversation with both Beka and Harper." A wry smile. A small shrug. "It's funny, really. There is so much about this body that is unpleasant and takes getting used to. Digestion, hormones... sweating. But the worst is needing to stop when my mind wants to keep going. I always wondered why none of you ever slept enough, ate properly, or rested when you were sick since I could clearly see that is what you needed to stay health. It baffled me that humans tended to ignore their basic needs on a daily basis."

"But you get it now?"

"I do. And I think we have switched places in a way," she said. He wasn't sure he followed.

"I don't understand."

"You are now watching over me, trying to keep me safe and healthy. When I was on the Maru, I had to learn to step back and let Beka and Harper make the mistakes they were going to make, even if I knew they were going to hurt themselves."

He saw where this was going. The other Dylan Hunt stirred inside. A promise. He remembered a promise made in another lifetime to someone whose face he didn't recall. A promise to protect and guide a small child. A child who sat before him now, still young, but no longer a child. As if their relationship needed more complicating. He did not bring it up. He needed more time to explore this new layer to their friendship, this new part of himself.

"And now, you must allow me to make my mistakes. If anyone in the past ever survived the transition from avatar to organic, I did not hear about it. There is no one out there with a body like mine. No biology texts for me to consult. But this is the only body I have, and I need to get used to it. To learn where my boundaries are. I cannot do so wrapped in a protective bubble. I am going to overwork myself, get sick, collect bumps and bruises. That is life, and it is unavoidable."

"You're right. It is unavoidable, but you don't have to rush into life either, and you can't stop me from worrying," he said. She placed a hand on his knee.

"I know. And I am asking you once again to go against your nature and let go when you want to hold on. But you must. I need the freedom to live my life. To make my own choices. I have come so far already, and if I have made it to this point, surely I can handle the consequences of my own actions."

Her forthrightness as of late was a welcome change, even if she'd needed a little prodding. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her in a sideways embrace happy she was here to embrace at all. She leaned into it.

"Thank you for telling me how you feel," he said, "I promise to try as long as you remain open with me. It isn't going to be easy."

She smiled up at him, winked, and bumped her shoulder against his arm. "It never is."


If anyone is interested, here is Danny Boy being played on a penny whistle (also called a tin whistle).

watch?v=kWKFkD4UHdU