"I come bearing gifts," Dylan said as he stepped onto Med Deck, moving towards Trance, who was busy stacking boxes of medications into a hard sided black case. Another, smaller case, rested on the counter beside it, closed up tight, both sporting straps to make them more portable. He extended a mug to her. "It's actually just coffee, but it's prepared to your specifications, according to Andromeda."
She watched his approach with tired eyes but offered him a small, almost shy, smile. Ever the polite one, even when they weren't on speaking terms. Trance had requested this meeting, though, so perhaps hope prevailed.
Not speaking these last few days had been difficult for him. For months on Seefra, she'd been his only true companion with Andromeda too damaged to put together coherent sentences. However, it was important after what had amounted to a massive betrayal of trust to allow her the chance to come to him. If it had taken too long, he would have taken the initiative, but it hadn't come to that, and he was grateful.
As he sidled in beside her, she reached out and took the coffee, giving an appreciative nod as she flipped the lid open, sniffed, then took a sip. "Thank you. I need it this morning. I woke early and couldn't fall back to sleep."
He studied the contents of the box. Flexis. Nanobot injectors. Petri-dishes of baby nanobots. Then said, "According to Rhade's last message, even accounting for the communications delay, the Maru should be here within the hour."
"I've prepped Med Deck. I am just collecting medical supplies for Jace's family to take with them to Tarn Vedra, along with instructions on how to use them and how to propagate more nanos. After I get a better idea of their medical condition, I will add anything specific to their needs. It isn't enough to last forever, but it should help them have a healthy start. I've also filled a box with seeds and growing instructions. If they are diligent and work hard, the seeds should yield enough for their family to eat come spring with some extra to sell at the market."
No one had asked her to do any of this, yet here she was, thinking on the same wavelength as him. He hadn't thought of seeds when wracking his brain for ways to make the Lange family's transition easier. There were boxes of food supplies and an auto-chef waiting for Harper to install in their home but not the supplies to grow and sell their own food. His mind had gone to survival, hers to self-sufficiency.
It wasn't their job to settle the Langes well, and they were placing them in a colony with the refugees from Seefra's other eight planets, people who were not being given the start this family was and would not be accepting of them. At least, not at first. Seefrans did not trust outsiders. But, the entire senior staff had experienced the fun of being dropped off there with nothing, and it didn't sit well to rescue this family from slavery only to throw them into more turmoil and abject poverty.
The idea behind Andromeda's entire mission, his life's work, was to make it so that everyone got a fair start in this Universe. But he would not live to see his dream realized. It would take more than a lifetime, and the Universe had granted him far too many of those already. These small gestures were a step towards his vision, but it frustrated him daily how little their goodwill spread. Even after five years awake on this side of time, the Universe of peace and light he remembered from childhood still seemed like yesterday. But, the Systems Commonwealth had been built over the span of a thousand years, even if it had taken less than one to destroy it. He needed patience. They had not restored peace in five years, but they'd made more than a few lives better along the way.
"You've been busy." He didn't press her for the reason she'd asked Rommie to reach out to him. He simply remained in her orbit, letting her take her time.
Under the smiles, her friendly demeanor ran a current of worry just visible in her eyes and the way she held herself. Rhade's message had been cryptic and not clear on whether the danger had passed. She had reason to worry.
"It is my way. I do not do well with boredom as you might remember." She winked. An uncomfortable energy wound around them adding a level of awkwardness to replace their usual comfort, but she was trying. So would he.
"I'm sure they will appreciate all of this."
She placed a few more things in the suitcase and closed it, then slung it over her shoulder. "I hope so. This will be disorienting for them. It was for Jace, and a Dragon ship is a luxury compared to a slave planet. They won't even have time to adjust before heading down to Tarn Vedra." She motioned to the other box. "Do you think you can grab that one? It's full of medications and is a little heavy for me."
"I can do that." In one quick motion, he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. "Where are we heading?"
"To their quarters." She picked up her coffee, took another sip, then indicated with her hand that she was ready to go.
"Rommie, Officer's Quarters, please," she commanded when they reached the lift and fell silent again. Instead of speaking, because no one wanted an awkward lift conversation, he took the time to study her. Twice in the last five years, she'd changed dramatically in appearance and behavior. This was a third change. Her hair was worn more simply now, clothing similar in style to the tunics she'd favorite on Seefra but designed more for comfort and ease of movement. She'd taken to wearing small sparkling trinkets and jewelry like when she was younger. Appearances were not the only blending of old Trance with new. In different moments, he saw the varying iterations of her personality show through. Absent the expectations and deceptions necessary in the past, and the need to stand strong with the knowledge she might have to sacrifice herself in the war against the Abyss, it was as if, for the first time, she had settled into her true self.
A semblance of confidence, missing even last week, now shone through in her movements and the ways she spoke. If she seemed tired, it was because she'd thrown herself back into work-life with force, finding more than enough to fill her days despite not being officially on duty. Beka and Andromeda's advice had been sound. Though physically taxing, the work had been mentally beneficial. Yet, under it all, something beyond sadness lurked. Even now, a small frown defaulted to her lips and her eyes were unfocused, turned inside to a sea of concerns invisible to him.
When the lift stopped, she gave a small nod and exited into the corridor, moving with purpose. She expected him to follow, and he did. They passed by the quarters meant for senior staff and stopped before the first VIP room, the largest on the ship next to his.
Rommie and Trance had been busy, he saw when he stepped inside. The main sleeping area was now two distinct rooms separated by curtains. On one side, a double bed rested against the bulkheads and on the other, two single cots stood, covers neatly made, waiting to offer respite. Another partitioned off area in the living space, off to the side of the couch, held another cot, presumably to give the older sister some privacy. Not enough space for five, but he was certain they would want to stay together.
Fresh cut flowers adorned the nightstands, coffee table, and desk. The closet, open for now, held several sealed boxes of supplies and the clothing they'd already provided Jace hung in a neat row. When the family arrived, Andromeda would take their measurements and find clothing in storage to fit, tailoring items if needed. He didn't need to look in the stasis box or small larder to know they were packed with a variety of snacks.
"Everything is ready," he said, reaching out and straightening a vase that didn't need it.
"I had Jace help me pick out the flowers this morning, I thought he should be included."
"You've done great. This should help them settle in easier."
He set his burden in the closet with the other supplies, and Trance placed hers beside it.
She stood there, back straight and hands folded in front of her, patient and waiting, giving nothing away. He preferred to give her the lead in their conversations. It hadn't always been that way, but over the years he'd learned that Trance only ever divulged the exact amount she was willing to. Nothing more. Nothing less. That tactic would not work this morning, so it was back to the old playbook.
"Rommie said you wanted to talk when I had a chance. I have to say, I'm surprised."
Her head and shoulders pivoted around so she faced him, but her gaze remained off to the side. "Yes."
"What did you want to talk about?" He took a few steps back, then stopped, wanting to give her space, not to spook her or cause her to shut down before the conversation took off, but also cognizant that he should appear confident. A delicate balance. Diplomacy between warring factions was preferable to solving disputes among his senior staff—especially when the dispute was with him.
Her gaze followed him. She wrung her hands and with a large sigh that rolled her shoulders, she turned and approached, chin down. At an arm's length away, she stopped and looked up, eyes not quite meeting his. "We are heading to Tarn Vedra to pick up Orlund for the Commonwealth award ceremony and to settle the Lange family," she said, clasping her hands tightly in front of her now. "The others are being granted shore leave for the two days we will be there. I would like to take mine as well, the same as everyone else."
The request caught him off guard. His focus on their conflict had caused him to miss what he should have anticipated, leaving him without an answer or well-reasoned argument. Trance required well-reasoned arguments.
A trip to Tarn Vedra, a society in flux and still Seefra in many ways, came with several risks and not just for Trance, physically too weak to defend herself and with an underdeveloped immune system. To all of them. Seefrans were an unpleasant group in the best of times and, while the influx of Commonwealth do-gooders brought many amenities to the various refugee settlements around the planet, it also brought with it people looking for power or ways to profit off the return of the Vedran homeworld. Treasure hunters, slavers, prophets, and vagabonds. From what he'd gathered, the entire planet had a touch of the wild west at the height of the gold rush to it, like the setting of an old-Earth style Western. No better cliche fit than that of a powder keg waiting for a spark.
When he did not answer, she finally met his eyes, hers holding conviction and stubbornness. "I have been working with the horticultural specialists sent from Xinti for two weeks now and a number of specimens from Hydroponics are being sent to them. I have several ideas on how they can utilize them in the restoration. It is more effective to impart the information in person, especially with Perseids. Plus, I have been on Andromeda without leave for almost three months and am going a little stir crazy."
She was appealing to his sense of work ethic. Playing up her efforts in trying to restore the planet to its former glory. Pointing out, circuitously, that High Guard officers were granted shore leave at least once every two months if their mission allowed. Ignoring concerns for her safety in the opening salvo. Also ignoring that for three weeks out of those months she'd been unconscious and unable to take leave. She was good at this.
"Seefra is not a safe place," he said, stating the obvious, trying to think quickly.
She nodded. "Yes, I am aware of the dangers. I can still wield a forcelance with the same accuracy I could before and I am not nearly as defenseless as everyone thinks I am. As for my immune system, it will never mature if I spend all of my time in a controlled environment where I am never exposed to illnesses for it to fight off."
She knew his arguments before he made them, proving that she hadn't been relying strictly on her visions all these years. He shifted his weight. Held his ground, resisted the urge to reach out. If they were not on such unstable ground, he would put a hand on her shoulder because touch for him was a steadying thing-a connecting thing. Yet he didn't know how it would be received when they hadn't even addressed the chasm between them. Though figurative, it separated them as well as any physical obstacle.
He changed the subject mid-conversation, unable to continue, seeing now how impossible the two steps between them were to traverse.
"Are we going to address the centog in the room?" he asked, a pervasive weariness unconsciously seeping into his voice. This conversation would be a lot easier with a snifter of bourbon in front of him. Sometimes, he missed the days of professional distance.
She'd been looking up at him. Now her shoulders twisted and she looked away, shifting from one foot to the other, a frown pulling her lips down at the corners. A few breaths later she crossed the room to the double bed, wrinkling the bedding as she sat. Her legs, kicking restlessly, dangled a quarter meter off the ground and it was hard for him not to think of how small she was in stature, more so now after her illness, skin-tight leggings and dress doing nothing to hide the matchstick thinness of her limbs.
He took a seat beside her a comfortable distance away, resting his hands on the mattress at his sides.
When she met his eyes, she was still frowning. "I do not have the energy to stay angry with you anymore." She shook her head. "And, I am not sure anger was the correct response to begin with, but I was so hurt, and so afraid. I understand why, and I have already told Harper not to worry about it. I cannot even argue against the need for those weapons. But, I will never be comfortable with them near me, and I can never wield one."
An opening. A start. This hurt wouldn't mend completely in one conversation, but they were sewing the sutures today and, in time, it would heal with the barest hint of a scar.
"I would not ask you to. Though people around you, myself included, will have access to them."
Even Harper, he added silently, a hint of guilt at involving him in this mess lingering.
"I understand." A sad smile. "Most of my people choose not to interfere in the lives of organics at all. Some spend most of their time as energy, bound to their celestial bodies, while others explore the Universe without interacting with sentient beings outside the Kith, and the majority populate several homeworlds tucked away from the slipstream, enjoying life together where they cannot be found. Most are incredibly young. No one is older than me by age, though there are as many genetically engineered adults like those in the Nebula as there are children and adolescents. These people are innocent. They want nothing to do with the secrets and manipulations of the Nebula, and they are who I see when I think of the risk. Them. Not the Nebula. And I fear for them. I want to see the best in people—I want a future where everyone is happy."
"You have always been that way, dreaming of a better future." The words slipped out without a thought, his tone so certain, so full of the conviction of a lifelong friend; not someone who was supposed to have only known her for the space of a blink in her lifetime.
She didn't miss the slip but didn't press either. At least, not today. One day, he would disclose his dreams to her. One day, she would demand it. Not today.
She studied him for a breath, then her eyes lost focus, as if she were gazing into a crystal ball, her past swirling around in the fog. "I suppose I have."
He let the silence linger for a moment, then took a deep breath and let it out, buying a few seconds to formulate his thoughts into words, to neatly package his feelings so they would have the impact he wanted. "I am sorry for the way you found out. You were right, I should have told you sooner. It was a terrible shock that you didn't deserve right when you were getting your feet under you again."
A small, sad smile graced her lips. "Thank you."
Two words. Not enough, but all he would get today. There would be more time for conversation later.
She stood and smoothed out the covers where she'd sat before crossing to a vase of blue flowers on the coffee table. Their small, heart-shaped petals were white near the stem, growing darker until almost black around the edges, the petals wrapping around the stem in a tight spiral. Her fingers fluttered between the blossoms, rearranging them to her tastes. He recognized the bloom from Tarn Vedra; a common garden flower. She looked up as he stepped beside her.
"You know it?" she asked. "The talin sengreza?"
"It translates to 'the impossible flower' in Vedran. It grew in my mother's garden."
She smiled softly. "The area it originally grew was high in the northern desert, known for its harsh weather and its prickly, poisonous, vegetation. No one thought flowers grew there, at least none so delicate, until one day, a traveler pulled into a rocky outcropping to escape the sudden storms the area is also famous for and there, growing out of the cracks, in the dead of winter with temperatures below negative ten and shaded from the light, grew this beautiful blossom. As surprising as the find was, the true surprise came later on."
She pulled a flower from the pot, held it in her hand for a moment, then handed it to him.
"Botanists and scientists, seduced by its beauty and rarity, collected cuttings and seeds. Several attempts to grow it from seed failed. To thrive, the temperature, lighting, and soil had to be just right. Finally, one botanist figured out how to grow it in a lab and kept it well for half a year but, just as he was about to go public, disaster struck. A hurricane hit his coastal hometown and destroyed his lab and with it, he thought, the only surviving specimen. But, when they cleaned up the debris, they found it growing happily in its pot, unphased by the warmer temperatures and lack of sunlight."
He held the blossom to his nose and breathed in its sweetness, relishing the memories of childhood it recalled, the sensation of lazy summer days laying in the garden, warmed by the sun. Her sun.
"The impossible flower is so named because to grow from seed it requires a specific, carefully maintained, environment. Over time, you can remove it from that environment and plant anywhere on the planet because it will adapt to almost any climate. At the time of the Fall, talin sangreza decorated gardens all over the Commonwealth, including the Andromeda Ascendant."
"How did they know when the flower was ready for transplanting?" he asked.
A pair of eyebrows lifted, and she half shrugged. "Science now gives a specific window, but in the early days, they just had to try it. If the flowers wilted, they brought them back inside and tried again later."
"But they lost some of them, I'm sure."
She smiled. "Not as many as you would think. They were well loved and well monitored." Here, she winked, more herself again. Some of the awkwardness faded, allowing the comfort of a long friendship to soak back in like water into parched soil.
He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the vase, not sure what to say. She put a hand on his upper arm, squeezing gently and he turned to look at her again, shocked by the intensity of emotion shining in her dark eyes.
"I would like to feel my Sun, not just watch her through a viewport. I want to wake up to her light."
The truth made more of an impact than anything else she'd said, though he understood that in the precarious first few moments of their meeting, she had not been comfortable enough to tell him. He could not deny her what she needed to mourn or the chance to make peace between her new life and old. Not out of fear. Not when he'd promised to give her room to live her life and make her mistakes, for better or worse.
"We will need to find you somewhere to stay, and some winter clothes," he said. "They are predicting snow and the temperature in Seefra City is supposed to drop down to negative nine. You need to keep away from large crowds, and it would make me a lot more comfortable if you stayed near one of us at all times. Unfortunately, I have two days worth of meetings lined up with members of the provisional government and the governors of settlements on three different continents, so I can't accompany you."
A wide smile crossed her face, the smile of a child given an early Christmas present, despite the list of restrictions he was coming up with. Guess she did need to get out. There was a reason the Commonwealth mandated regular shore leave after all.
"Harper still keeps apartments near the bar and I know he plans on staying planetside to settle some management business at the Oasis. I am certain I can stay there and use Doyle's bed and they can keep me company when I am not working. If that doesn't work, I'm sure I can convince Beka to put up with the gravity for a while."
She had an entire plan. Unlike her request, this didn't take him by surprise. It was her way to anticipate both the course of events, and the behaviors of those around her, and nothing indicated the habit had gone with her visions.
"You've already thought of everything."
"Much of it, yes."
He smiled and held the flower back out to her. "We have two days on Tarn Vedra, and then the awards ceremony on Tarazed. When that is over, let's discuss your official return to duty full time."
Her smile grew. Time to put his promise to the test, to allow her to leave the confines of Andromeda, where she was safe and protected from harm, and see if she continued to thrive.
"Captain," Andromeda said, interrupting the moment. Dylan turned to the nearest screen. Andromeda's impassive face watching. Trance jumped beside him, pivoting in one quick movement.
"What is it, Rommie?"
"The Eureka Maru just exited slipstream, followed closely by Rhade's ships. The Maru is requesting permission to dock. ETA fifteen minutes." Andromeda's eyes shifted to Trance. "There are no casualties among our crew, but one child is badly hurt."
Trance released an audible sigh of relief.
"Permission granted. Tell Beka we will meet her in the hangar. Send in your bots with a bed and alert the medics that a patient is incoming and that Trance will be in command of the situation. We are on our way."
He turned back towards Trance. She gave a curt nod and they were off, moving in time with one another, ready to face the latest crisis together.
The hangar doors slid open once atmosphere was restored. Trance slipped a medical mask with a heavy filter over her face, a precaution against illness she would not have bothered with before, and moved in. It was a relief no one on the crew was hurt, but still, she worried as if the doors might open to a new unforeseen disaster. A pair of bots rolled up beside her with a bed from Med Deck. She stopped at the bottom of the steps folding out from the Maru's hatch, eyes glued to it, waiting in anxious anticipation.
As the only surgeon on board, she was the only one capable of caring for the complex injuries Rhade's messages implied without several jumps to the nearest sufficiently advanced enough planet or drift. Still, it surprised her when Andromeda ordered her, at Dylan's behest, to prep Med Deck and prepare to take command, the ban on her setting foot on Med Deck over in an instant. Her nurses would need to get used to her quickly, despite never meeting.
The hatch opened with a puff of steam. Doyle and Beka stepped out carrying a bundle of a person on a stretcher between them, one of the Maru's blankets tucked around him, his size, so small, surprising her. Trance looked past her two friends, searching for the third, knowing the knot of worry in her stomach would not release until she saw him.
An older couple stepped down behind Doyle with matching frowns on drawn, haggard, faces. Their eyes darted around, visibly uncomfortable in these new surroundings. Mr. and Mrs. Lange, she assumed. Next, a teenage girl and beside her—her heart jumped at the sight of him—Harper. One hand rested on the girl's shoulder, the other gestured at their surroundings, a forced smile on his face. From where she stood, she was deaf to his words but knew he was talking about Andromeda, the ship he loved.
The girl drank in the site of the hangar bay with wide eyes and a touch of amazement, though her hunched shoulders betrayed her worry. Her gaze fell on Trance and the worker droids beside her, mouth falling open, though whether the surprise was due to seeing robots or an alien woman, Trance could not tell. Harper saw where she was looking and said something with a flash of a true smile in Trance's direction, which she returned uncertainly. The girl giggled, giving Trance one more look, before moving on to the next interesting thing.
"Follow me," Trance commanded the bots and moved forward to meet Doyle and Beka halfway.
"Trance, his name is Jacob. He is badly hurt. I kept him alive, but…" Doyle started and then trailed off as they approached, her voice cracking. A weariness had settled into Doyle. The type of exhaustion that didn't care whether she had a physical need for sleep.
"The Dragons beat him within an inch of his life," Beka said. Venom dripped from her words. "He was awake for a while, but we gave him a neuro suppressant to keep him out. Easier on him that way."
Easier on everyone else, too.
"Okay. Let's not waste any time getting him to Med Deck," she ordered. Doyle gave a sharp nod in the affirmative. Dylan pulled in beside the women to help transfer Jacob from stretcher to the bed. "On my count. One, two…"
At three they lifted the sheet beneath the boy together and gently set him on the bed. Carefully, she pulled off the blanket, visually cataloguing his injuries. Not good. "Doyle, you can fill me in on the way. I know you are tired, but I need you. He's seen your face already and will trust you more than me, and I would like at least one person in there who has worked with me before."
Doyle gave her a strange look. "I am not capable of fatigue. Of course I can help."
"Not all fatigue is physical," she said but did not elaborate.
Harper and the girl stopped a few steps back, beside Jacob's parents. Trance caught Jacob's father studying her, distrust with a hint of hostility sparking when their eyes met. She didn't let it faze her, as long as he didn't interfere, she could ignore him.
"She's the one who's supposed to help Jacob? She can't be out of her twenties and she's not even—" he started.
"Human?" Harper cut him off, his tone annoyance bordering on anger, and Trance sensed that Harper's patience was already running thin.
Dylan stepped in. "I'm Captain Hunt. This is Trance Gemini. She has been the Chief Medical Officer on this ship for five years and, in that time, has pulled off more miracles than I can count, so, trust me when I say, your son couldn't be in better hands."
Harper glared on. She shot him a look that said, take a few deep breaths, calm down, and think before you open your mouth again. This day was shaping out to be a long one, but she made a note to find him later, regardless. Then, she lifted the mask for just a moment, giving both Harper and Mr. Lange a better view of her face, hoping the latter would read her good intentions there.
"It's alright, Harper," she said, tempering the look that she had given him with a smile. Then she turned to Mr. Lange. "I understand that you have little reason to trust aliens and I am sure you've not had much exposure, but I promise I am a lot older than I look and I am well versed in human physiology. I will do everything in my power to help Jacob. I've pulled Beka and Harper through some tough scrapes with a lot less than what I have available here."
She hoped she could physically keep her promise.
After replacing the respirator, she motioned for the bots to move out of the hangar bay and to the lift.
"If you will follow me, I am taking him to Med Deck so you know where it is. After, Rommie, the ship's avatar, will show you to your quarters. You can ask the ship, Andromeda, for an update at any time and when your son is stable, Rommie will escort you back."
Mr. Lange clenched his jaw together, as if biting back an argument. She understood he did not want to separate from his son, but she didn't need the entire family hovering over her while she worked. She hadn't minded in the past when it was her friends, but they knew how to help and when to stay out of the way.
As she moved past Harper, she reached out, gave his arm a pat and flashed him a comforting smile. "I will find you later."
Harper nodded, face blank. She saw the toll the mission had taken on him in his tired eyes. He needed a friend right now, but she had work to do. Thankfully, as if on cue, Dylan and Beka moved in, removing one worry from her plate. At least he wouldn't be alone.
"Come on, let's go to the Conference Room. Rhade should be onboard by now. Rommie has gone to meet him and is directing him to come to us so the three of you can fill me in and then go get some rest," Dylan said just before she entered the corridor, followed by the trio of family members.
"Rommie just sent in a smoothie for you. I can finish cauterizing and suturing this while you take a break," Doyle said, informed, Trance guessed, through her interface with the AI. She didn't know how long they'd been working but had the vague impression of hours slipping by. The ache in her back and the throbbing behind her temples seemed to confirm her theory.
She licked her lips, dry from Med Deck's heavily filtered air and a touch of dehydration. Hunger pangs had not broken through her focus, but a hollowness in her gut said it had been too long since her light breakfast this morning and the half-finished mug of coffee. After a glance at the readout above Jacob's head to confirm his condition remained stable, she begrudgingly admitted she needed to take a break before the doctor became the patient. Her body struggled to meet the demands of the task, but a child counted on her to remain strong, and she would not give in.
One of her medics needed to step away too, she observed. For a different reason.
"I'll take five and come back. After, we need to double check organ function, close him up, and then work on the superficial wounds and scarring so he doesn't carry the physical scars for the rest of his life. He doesn't need that."
"Aye," Doyle replied without looking as she bent over Jacob with a laser cauterizer propped in her hand.
Trance turned her attention to a young woman with wild brown hair barely contained in a messy twist. "Elaine, take a moment. Doyle and Martin will continue without us."
A pair of overwhelmed brown eyes, framed by escaped tendrils of hair, looked up from the pile of nano-injectors Trance had tasked her with overseeing and programming.
"Yes Ma'am," she replied, unable to mask the hint of panic in her professional tone.
Ensign Elaine Garcia, from Tarazed. Graduated salutatorian from the Academy medical program two years ago. Residency completed at a Perseid relief camp in the war-torn Koen system. Specialization in field medicine and burn wounds. One of the first High Guard medics to do her residency off planet after Tarazed returned to the Known Worlds. Before Andromeda, she'd practiced general medicine at the military hospital in Tarazed's capital, a comfortable position, Trance had gathered from reading her file. She'd been an obvious choice when selecting soldiers to send to the Andromeda before the Magog Worldship attacked. Andromeda chose Elaine and Martin to help today because both had previous exposure to battle trauma, but even the worst a battlefield could provide was poor preparation for this.
"Call me Trance," she said for the second time since meeting Elaine, though she doubted it would stick. These young soldiers loved their Ma'ams, Lieutenants, and crisp, straight-backed salutes.
Trance found the smoothie on a counter a few meters away, placed conveniently by a stool. As usual, Andromeda had anticipated her needs and placed an injector filled with an anti-inflammatory painkiller next to the cup.
She winced when she sat, her back objecting to the change in position.
"Are you alright?" Elaine asked. Both medics had studied her, visually scanned her for outward signs of her convalescence or weakness. Living in a fishbowl was not an experience Trance recommended, but she didn't blame them, trained as they were to care for the sick and injured. She would be no different.
Trance smiled as best she could. "I will be fine. No need to worry about me."
She pressed the injector to her neck, dropped it on the counter and grabbed the smoothie. No time to waste. She wanted to get back to Jacob as soon as possible. The metal cup chilled her palms. She drank without paying too much attention to the flavor—a mix of fruits, something green, and a hint of nuttiness. Nut butter, probably, for protein. Better than the shakes.
"I am more concerned about you," she said a moment later. "This is really getting to you, isn't it?"
Elaine slouched against the counter, giving up the pretense of military control at Trance's words. She closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I have a nephew his age," she admitted. "I've never seen anything like this before. I mean, I've patched up prisoners of war and healed children who'd run into land mines. Buried them even. But this…it's like they hurt him in a way to cause the most damage and pain possible without killing him. Who does that? He's just a kid."
Anger twisted Trance's stomach, rising from her middle to her heart where it squeezed like a vice.
"That is exactly what they did." Her voice was hard. Angry. Control had been difficult in these last few hours. "I have seen many things, but rarely an adult in this condition, and never a child."
"What makes the Drago Kazov do this? I've heard stories, but the prides on Terazed are artists, doctors, soldiers, leaders and make up the bulk of the Home Guard fleet. They are some of the best people the Commonwealth has to offer, but the prides out here are so different."
Trance released her anger, brought herself back down to equilibrium.
"It all has to do with the traits each pride chooses to breed for: some choose physical attraction and strength; others daring and bravery; more still are like Tarazed's prides and choose artistic ability and leadership skills. The Sabra Jaguar honor cunning, treachery, and intelligence over all else. The Dragons are different. They choose mates for their brute strength and ability to dominate," she explained. Then with a heavy heart that understood far too well, she added, "Nature can only explain behavior so far, though. It is not an answer to their cruelty, but if a society teaches long enough that anyone weaker than them is inferior, it is not a huge leap to see those inferior beings as playthings, pets, or slaves. Once the belief becomes systemic, it creates the perfect nest for hatred and cruelty. Or worse, utter indifference to the suffering of others."
"That's..." Elaine whispered, eyes on Jacob once again.
Trance smiled sadly, her thoughts going to Dylan and Beka, to their shared vision of a better Universe, and how they'd already come so far from the early days when laughter had chased them out of conference rooms at the mere mention of rebuilding the Commonwealth. But not far enough. She brushed Elaine's shoulder to get her attention. "If you want to make a difference, to help, you are in the right place." She forced confidence to fill her voice, though deep inside she did not know how they would accomplish it, just that they must, and added, "We will put a stop to this. All of it."
Elaine glanced over at Jacob again, and Trance saw how far away her thoughts were. Seven slips away on Terazed where her nephew hopefully played happily in the sunshine, free of the struggles Jacob would soon face. Trance could heal his physical wounds, erase the scars on his body, but could not touch those inflicted on his mind.
"Why don't you call it a day? I'm relieving Martin of duty, too. Jacob's life is no longer in danger, and Doyle is more than capable of helping me finish."
Elaine hesitated, the battle between her work ethic and desire to leave clear on her face. "Are you sure, Ma'am?"
Trance nodded, "Yes. Go meditate, get some rest, and maybe talk to your family if it will help. I can put in for time off tomorrow if you would like."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
Trance smiled and shook her head. "Trance, you can call me Trance."
"Thank you… Trance," Elaine replied, trying it on for size. Good enough. Elaine gave a short bow and headed out of the room.
Trance drank down her smoothie quickly, taking only the time she needed to finish her drink before returning to work more focused and less lightheaded. She dismissed Martin, who did not argue and turned her attention to Doyle's sutures, each one neat and perfect. Another tear in a tiny organ perfectly sealed, another step towards putting this nightmare behind them.
"I think we are ready to close him up," Trance said after she took a few moments to run through Jacob's vitals—everything working, with a bit of help.
"Okay," Doyle replied, getting straight to work.
Trance caught Doyle's eyes, saw the haunted cast to them. Her medics weren't the only ones affected. "I recommend you take the day off tomorrow."
"Jacob will still need monitoring and someone will need to interface with his parents. No offense, but that should not be you. You're exhausted already and need it more than I do," Doyle said.
Trance sighed. She really was tired, and with a little more focus she would have remembered that, like Rommie, Doyle could be stubborn when she thought others perceived weakness in her.
She met Doyle's eyes again for a brief moment, then grabbed a cell regenerator and started closing the large incision on Jacob's chest, moving slowly. The skin knitted together leaving a raised red scar where the cut had been. "Rommie can do it. Your processors need time to process. This is difficult for me emotionally, and I did not see what you saw."
Doyle took a spray bottle with a salve containing anti-inflammatory medication with anti-infection nanobots and followed her progress. In a few hours, it would completely heal the incision. She sighed. "Did you ever go to Earth, I mean, after the Fall?"
"No, Earth was one of my brother's spouses. We were close when we were younger, before the Nebula, and she knew my nature. When I had some time to myself after the Fall, before I was sent to Dylan and Beka, I tried to visit, but she would not let me set foot on Earth. Sol agreed with her and I could tell by the look in his eyes how bad it was."
Doyle stopped moving for a moment. She looked up at Jacob's still face, then over to Trance who now focused her attention on her friend, sensing the need.
"How does someone live a life like that and come out unharmed psychologically?" she asked with a wrinkled brow and a deep frown. And Trance understood she was not just talking about Jacob, but also Garrin Lange and one Seamus Harper. Trance shook her head, a frown settling on her face as she thought of Harper and the challenge his emotions presented every time something reminded him of his childhood. She and Doyle would need to discuss this another day because it was too much to go into right now.
She shook her head and said simply in a tone discouraged further conversation, "You don't."
"A little dark in here, don't you think?" Trance asked cautiously as she stepped into the Maru's galley. Harper lay on the bunk across from hers reading a flexi with only the running lights on. Her bunk, she saw, had been made up with fresh linens, either Beka's work, or Rommie's. He did not smile or greet her but said nothing to dissuade her from entering, either. The silence unnerved her, so unlike him, but she pressed on, exhausted and in need of rest.
She and Doyle had worked on Med Deck for a little over six hours, with few breaks, between Jacob's arrival and when they reunited him with his parents, awake and smiling despite what he'd been through. Everything ached, and she wanted to be off her feet because they'd chosen to compete with her back in in a painful tug-of-war, one where she lost every time. The pain distracted her, made her thoughts insubstantial and difficult to hold onto. She slipped into the berth and flopped onto her bunk, crossing her legs in front of her to yank off her boots, then stretched out her stocking-clad toes, wincing as her feet adjusted to their newfound freedom.
Next, she removed her slim tool belt and set it on the headboard, then moved on to her bloodstained dress. At this, she sensed movement and saw Harper out of the corner of her eye turn his head away politely, though she was wearing a camisole and leggings underneath and he'd never bothered to turn away before without an expectant raised eyebrow as a reminder. For a beat, she held the dress, unsure of whether she wanted to send it straight to the incinerator or through the laundry chute. Since the waste receptacle and laundry chute were both several steps away, she decided to discard it uncharacteristically on the deck beside her boots. Tidiness could wait until exhaustion no longer weighed her down.
"It's safe now," she said, giving him a small smile. He turned back, a sheepish look on his face.
"How's Jake?" he asked, voice gravelly. He must have been sitting in silence for some time now, waiting for her, unless she was mistaken. Otherwise, he would be on his bunk or in his machine shop. He'd known she would come back here
"He is going to pull through. He'll be on his feet in a day or two and fully recovered in a couple of weeks," she explained. Then she smiled, remembering how Jake had stared at her with wide brown eyes and a hint of disbelief. "It was adorable. He asked me if I had fallen in a pile of glitter and when I told him it was just my skin, he asked if I was a fairy."
Harper's face shifted. Trance had given him something else to think about, to focus on. He shot her a teasing, flirtatious smile. "I'm not convinced you aren't a fairy. He hasn't seen your gardens yet." Then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Beautiful mythological creatures known for their secrecy, trickery, and connection with nature?"
His raised eyebrow held the question. She shifted under his gaze. She had almost forgotten rule number one of dealing with Harper: never underestimate him.
She shook her head. "Don't look at me. I have no idea where the myth originated..." she started, trailed off, and then decided he already suspected and it was not worth hiding when he already knew so much, "...but I might know a few Avatars who may have thought it great fun to play tricks on medieval humans."
One day, he would ask her about the naked purple goddess he'd seen in the All System's University Library. One day, she might tell him. She hoped it would not be today. Even the Lambent Kith went through a rebellious teenage stage, and she was too tired to re-live the mistakes in hers.
"I'm glad he's going to be alright," Harper said after a beat, leaving his suspicions behind, choosing not to press. She knew this conversation was not over, merely delayed.
"Do you want to talk about the mission?" she asked.
"Not really. Another day?" He fidgeted again, fighting with thoughts and emotions he refused to share. She wished he would open up to her, though she understood it would take time. "New Burke was hard on Doyle."
A subtle change in subject. A shifting of attention. Yet, there was a real concern there. A worry he needed to get off his chest.
"I spoke with her a little. It seems to me that she lost some of her innocence yesterday."
Harper let out a harsh laugh. "Innocent is not a word I would ever associate with Doyle. You, maybe, if you weren't so scary sometimes. But not Doyle."
A small smile pulled at her lip. She leaned forward, catching his eyes. "Innocence comes in many forms, Seamus. Though I have seen much, I am quite young for my people, and you see innocence in my perceived age, and some of it in my nature. An AI is born an adult, fully mature, but with very little experience. There is innocence there, too. She needs time to process what she saw, but she will be fine."
The same went for Harper. Once he'd had time to process, he would be okay, so long as they kept him from self-destructing.
Harper was going through a phase of rapid maturation himself whether he realized it or not. Hard as it was to admit after having lived so many years, so was she. She'd lost the luxury of believing the Universe would bend to her will. Instead, she stood alone watching it shape-shift around her, become something different; unfamiliar, and frightening. Hard not to grow when faced with such a change.
Harper fidgeted again, and her lips twitched. Perhaps not alone, or at least, not completely.
She shifted her weight to find a more comfortable position and winced again as her back objected, muscles seizing. She could not stop the grimace that contorted her face, nor the frustrated hiss that escaped with her breath. Her new body was so weak, so fragile, and so easily damaged. Strength did not come fast enough.
Patience. You have time.
Sometimes it seemed she had no time at all.
Concern creased the corners of Harper's eyes, his attention now focused on her, flexi abandoned on the bed. "Are you okay? You were in Med Deck most of the day."
Not wanting to add another concern to his already overloaded plate, she nodded and forced a tired smile. "I'm fine. It's just a little backache."
He stood and sat next to her a moment later. He smelled of soap. He'd scraped his skin clean with force by the look of it—left it raw and irritated. Did he feel he'd removed New Burke from his pores? Did she dare ask, or offer an ointment to cool the heat she could almost feel rising from the rough patches of red on his bare arms?
Without preamble and with no sign of his usual flirtations he said, "I can help if you get your hair out of the way."
A cluster of tiny bubbles, like those in the carbonated drinks Harper favored, formed in her stomach and rose to her heart, causing it to skip a beat, maybe two. A current of electricity formed in the space between her body and his. It flowed over her skin, the hairs lifting in response, and she was momentarily breathless. She wanted to, needed to, share this moment with him, yet she feared the intimacy, feared she might lose control. In this moment, she was drawn to him, to his energy, in a way she had not been to anyone in quite a long time.
He caught her hesitation and misinterpreted.
"I won't try anything. Honest. Scout's honor."
A small part of her, the playful part, almost asked, why not?
"You were never a scout," she said instead. Without another word, she reached into a storage pocket and pulled out a long toothed comb. Eyes on his, she pulled her hair back behind her shoulders and twisted the mess of curls above her neck, using the comb to hold them in place. A few strands slipped, tickling her cheek. Harper reached out and brushed them back behind her ear, and she studied his face, unable to isolate a single dominant emotion there, so many presented themselves. She broke eye contact first, afraid of what he'd see in hers, and shifted so he was seated behind her.
The electricity flowed between them still.
His touch was tentative at first. Unsure. Like her, nervous. Perhaps he too sensed they were not the same as they were before, that their relationship had already transformed into a nebulous thing somewhere between friends and lovers. Changed in the early morning hours, in the wake of restless dreams and nightmares. This touch of his, this offering, was a building block in the foundation of a shared existence and soon, they would have no choice but to admit they were building such an existence together.
He started with her neck, fingers brushing her hairline, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. She willed herself to breathe steadily, to give nothing away. His thumbs pressed into the muscles, pulling down on them and she sighed, leaning into his touch, shoulders dropping as tension bled from them, headache fading for the first time in hours. Her eyes closed, and the Universe shrank until there was only Harper, and her, and the warmth of his hands. The sound of her breath, his, and the scents of soap, flowers, and machine oil that permeated the air surrounding them.
The kneading slowed and shifted into caresses, gentle and slow. Touch for the sake of touch, to satisfy a need for humanity and intimacy in the face of the inhumane. Touch to communicate what she understood he could not communicate through words—a desperate desire for physical and emotional comfort. But it wasn't hers to give. Not yet. They'd drawn the demarcation line in their battle of wills, yes, but not crossed it.
She wished he would say something. Give her an opening. Any other day, it might not have mattered, but in this moment, with his emotions so raw, it had to be him who took the first step, didn't it?
Fingers traced the shape of her spine and goosebumps formed on her arms. His hands moved down her sides then strayed too low, brushing her hip bones, and her breath caught. He stopped, lifted his hands, sensing he'd crossed a boundary. They hovered just above the small of her back and she imagined she could still feel the heat of them through the thin fabric of her undershirt. She twisted around, opening her eyes to look at him, her chest tight and breath ragged.
He stared back, lips slightly parted. Was it his desire or hers tugging at her, doing its best to convince her to close the gap between their lips? A small movement. No effort. All pretenses would be over, then. This dance where one of them stepped forward, and the other stepped back, where they spun circles around each other, never quite meeting, would end. Everything would change. And was the change unwelcome? Unwanted?
Maybe it could be her that took the initiative, and maybe she had read the situation wrong, or maybe she was just making excuses for a mixture of hormones and a yearning to fill the emptiness in her heart. His touch reached deep inside and eased a bit of the loneliness there. Not all of it, because no one person could ever take the place of her Sun, but enough to feel at peace for a fleeting moment.
Was it wrong for either of them to seek comfort where they could find it?
Her body, it seemed, thought so. A yawn escaped though she tried to stifle it and the spell broke when she turned to cover her lips. A wave of intense sleepiness washed over her, the events of the day catching up now the adrenaline had time to dissipate and Harper had helped relax her muscles. He scooched back, still close, but far enough to make it clear the moment had passed.
Perhaps it was for the best.
"It's been a long day. You should sleep," he said. The layers built into his tone held all the words left unsaid and his face showed a storm of conflicting emotions—disappointment, relief, barely repressed desire.
"You should, too," she replied, knowing he had not slept well last night, if at all.
"Yeah, you're probably right." He stood. She fought to keep the disappointment off her face as he moved back to the opposite bunk. It might as well have been another galaxy.
The ability to school her expression was one she took for granted, but it was becoming harder to hide her true feelings from him.
She knew love, yes. The all-encompassing sort that grew from the tiniest seed over time to enveloped her in its embrace. It was the kind of love she still held for Ione, who'd walked the path of life beside her since infancy. Desire, too, was familiar. Over the years, she'd left her fair share of lovers scattered throughout the cosmos. The Lambent Kith did not hold monogamy dear, and sex, to them, was a fun distraction as often as it was an expression of love.
What she felt for Harper hadn't grown from duty or expectation, or from the understanding that if they were to spend a lifetime together, they might as well make the most of it. Nor was it simply desire, or the sole effect of raging hormones in her now organic body. Harper had been a stranger to her and had earned her love through friendship, humor, and just being Harper. It was as if that had changed everything, inspired passion and a rush of feelings so strong she hardly knew what to do with them. She thought he was amenable to the idea, and it scared her, because neither one of them had experience with this sort of thing, and neither one of them had anywhere else to go if things didn't work out.
She shook those thoughts away and took a moment to calm her heart and meditate on her breathing until each breath came out slow and steady once more.
"Harper," she said when she felt she could trust her voice and pulled a medication injector out of her belt. She tossed it to him when she had his attention. It flipped in the air between the bunks, and he caught it, reading its contents warily.
"What's this?"
"A sleeping aid. I am taking one like it to help me sleep through the night and this one should keep your dreams at bay. I know it's pretty early, but I probably won't wake up before you are ready to go to bed. I'm not recommending a course of treatment or suggesting you should use it regularly, but after everything you saw down there, I thought you might welcome a restful, dreamless night."
The injector flashed as Harper tapped it on his hand. She could not bring him actual peace, but she could offer him a single night's respite from the demons that plagued him. She smiled encouragingly, and he returned hers with a nervous one of his own.
"Thanks," he said and pocketed it. "Will it bother you if I keep reading over here, or should I find somewhere else?"
He did not want to be alone. She didn't either.
"It won't bother me at all, I could sleep through anything right now," she replied as she pulled her hair loose, slipped under the covers, and pressed her head into her pillows without bothering to change. Sleep fogged her thoughts immediately, and she drifted into the grey of it, comforted by Harper's presence nearby.
