Chapter 8

Real friends are those who, when you've made a fool of yourself, don't feel you've done a permanent job.

- Old Earth Saying

00000

Dylan Hunt paced the small cell, pent up energy needing a release the tiny room couldn't offer. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd been dragged away from Harper and thrown in here, but it had to have been several hours at least. Long enough for the kid to be in real trouble, and Dylan was cursing himself. He got Harper into this mess; it should have been him out there facing the wrath of the Dragans, not his friend.

Again, he walked the perimeter of the cell. As cells go, it was one of the better ones he'd been in. There was no dirt, no musty straw, no leaky roof, but it was also as escape-proof as a solid concrete box. With a wry smile, he realized there was something rather disturbing about the fact that he could compare the quality of cells he'd spent personal time in.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of harsh footsteps approaching, and Dylan positioned himself to have a clear view of the corridor beyond when the door opened. He doubted there would be a chance to escape but it never hurt to be ready. He figured the guards were here to escort him back to Felix. The man had said he'd summon Dylan again after a few hours, and the captain intended to demand to know what he'd done with Harper.

Abruptly, the door swung open, but the guards didn't march in and seize him. In fact, they never even glanced at him. Instead, a short figure was tossed roughly into the cell and the door was sealed shut again.

The body on the floor moaned and Dylan rushed to his side.

"Harper?" he asked, "Harper, can you hear me?"

Harper stirred slightly and Dylan noticed with anger that the boy was now in chains. Shackles bound his wrists and ankles, allowing enough room for a shuffling walk or small movements, but not much else. He also saw that his feet were bare, his boots and socks gone.

"Yeah, Boss, I can hear ya," Harper said. His voice sounded tired and he moved slowly, as if in great pain. With much effort, he tried to sit up and, even in the dim light, Dylan caught a glimpse of the bruises and cuts decorating his face. He also noted with alarm places where dark, wet stains were seeping through his green, long-sleeved T-shirt.

"Harper, take it easy. Here, let me help you," he ordered, placing a gentle hand on Harper's back to steady him.

"Don't touch me!" Harper hissed and Dylan was startled by the venom in his young friend's voice. He quickly withdrew his hand but wasn't willing to concede the point yet.

"You're hurt and bleeding. Let me check you out, look at those wounds."

"I said, don't touch!" Harper practically yelled and to the captain's surprise, his eyes flashed dangerously. Dylan held his hands up in surrender.

"All right, I won't touch you."

There was silence for several minutes while Harper struggled to a sitting position and Dylan watched in concern and anger, feeling very helpless. That Dragan scum had apparently done quite a number on the small engineer. Dylan wished Harper would let him help; he was worried the boy was attempting to hide serious injuries.

Harper finally managed to scoot himself to a wall, and he leaned back wearily against it, his chains rattling. Dylan didn't miss the grimace of extra pain that act caused him, but he was afraid to say anything. The young man then tilted his head back to rest on the metal and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry I freaked out on you, Boss," Harper spoke after a little while, not opening his eyes.

"It's all right," Dylan hurried to assure him, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his friend. The bad lighting made it difficult to assess Harper's condition, even from that close.

"Harper, what happened?" the captain asked hesitantly.

Harper answered without opening his eyes. "Just a typical conversation with Ubers."

"Why you and not me? I'm the captain. I'm the one whose orders got you into this mess."

"Age old tactic of pick on the little guy; see if the runt will crack. And you didn't get me into this, I stowed away, remember?"

Dylan got the distinct impression there was much more going on than Harper said, but he didn't press it.

"Don't worry," Harper spoke again quietly when the captain didn't respond, "I didn't squeal."

"I never assumed you did," Dylan said gently. Then his worry got the better of him and he slid closer to the boy.

"Harper, what did they do to you? Why won't you let me check you out? You could be seriously hurt!"

"It's really okay. They didn't do nothing that hasn't been done to me before."

His words made Dylan angry and disgusted at the same time, and he threw out his trump card. "I can make it an order."

Inwardly, Harper sighed and he raised his head, finally opening his eyes to look at Dylan. Pain was coursing through his body like a river of fire, but it wasn't so powerful he couldn't fight it down and remain in control. As torture sessions went, what he'd just been through could have been a lot worse. Scratch that, was freakin' gonna get a lot worse. He was determined to enjoy this brief respite as much as he could. Soon enough the guards would come for him again and he had no way of knowing if that trip would end in more whips and branding-irons and electrical shocks, or if it would be the trip that would take him to huge iron spikes being pounded through his hands. For all he knew, this could be his last chance to talk to his friend, and he really didn't want to spend it cataloguing his wounds and discussing Nietzschean torture tactics.

"Dylan," he said, his voice laced with pain despite his efforts, "I'm sitting here in chains and we're both locked in a mad Uber's cell. You're not in any position to be giving me orders, Captain, and I ain't in the mood to be taking them. Even if you did check me out, what are you gonna do? This isn't the Andromeda. There's nothing here to magically fix me up with. And sooner or later they're just gonna come back for me again and do it all over anyway. Trust me, as someone who's been here before, I'll live."

He almost smiled at his own gallows humor and choice of words. In reality, he wouldn't live. It was just a matter of time…but Dylan didn't need to know that. Harper knew that part of the torture of such a cruel form of death lay in the waiting; the vivid images the mind conjured up as the hours and days of uncertainty stretched on. He couldn't escape the event, but Harper was determined not to give Gaius Felix the satisfaction of seeing it drive him mad with anticipation.

"Fine," Dylan conceded. He could see Harper's point even if he didn't agree. He seemed to sense something of the engineer's mood even if he didn't fully understand the reasoning behind it. He moved over to sit against the wall beside his friend but purposefully kept a few inches of space between them.

They were silent for a long while, but this time it wasn't awkward, just the silence of two friends stuck in an impossible situation and finding what comfort they could in each other's company. Harper's eyes drifted shut again, but Dylan knew he wasn't asleep. His face was too stiff with the effort to hide his pain. Eventually, Dylan broke the stillness, trying to distract him.

"Commander Felix seemed to know you. Why's that?"

Again, Harper answered without opening his eyes but this time it took him a minute.

"I'm from Earth, Boss. The Dragans have enslaved Earth, remember? I wasn't exactly the nicest guy down there, and I didn't exactly keep my feelings for the Dragans to myself. Meant I attracted more Uber attention than was healthy. Rewards, wanted signs – those types of things. Our own Mr. Felix-the-Cat here is Drago-Kazov and probably from Earth. You do the math."

Harper's words had their usual flippancy, but his tone warned Dylan not to inquire further on that subject.

Noting the mood darkening again, Harper felt the need to lighten it. It was, after all, quite possibly his last hour. Despair, pain, and torment were waiting just around the corner, no need to invite them in. Raising his head, he turned to Dylan and flashed one of his famous grins.

"So, Boss," he quipped holding up his bound hands, "Ya like my new accessories? They came with the new place we've got, free of charge!"

Dylan knew what Harper was doing. In situations like this you had two options: laugh or cry. His engineer chose to laugh and pulled it off with an agility that spoke of years of hard practice. That fact itself tore at Dylan's heart, but he swallowed it and returned the smile. Unfortunately, he too had practice in laughing through the pain.

"I don't know," he played along, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You should have requested green, to match your shirt."

"Dang, you're right," Harper laughed. "I'll have to see if I can return them."

"Ah, Mr. Harper, this place strikes me as the no-returns kind of joint."

"True, so true. We'll have to slip something into the suggestion box then."

Dylan just laughed.

"So, Mr. Harper, I have just one question."

Harper raised his swollen eyebrows quizzically.

"The Kalimelon That Ate Kraklow? That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, it's a good show! Monsters, mayhem, great specially effects… Plus it's got Aneti Lipley in it. Man, is she one hot babe…"

"I'll take your word on that," Dylan grinned, glad to see some of Harper's personality pushing through the pain.

"You know, Boss, you really need to loosen up more. All work and no play makes for high blood pressure, not to mention stuffy, uptight captains. Promise me, when you get out of here, you'll kick back with a good action flick and a few beers. Maybe you should invite Tyr. If there are enough things blowing up, he might even enjoy it."

Sensing there was real feeling beneath Harper's teasing, Dylan nodded. "I promise. We'll do it together, guy's night out."

"Sure," Harper muttered, his smile draining away.

Just then a deep rumble from within the bowels of the ship filled the cell.

"What's that?" Dylan asked looking around.

Harper didn't even bother lifting his head as he answered. "The sublight engines firing up. From the sound of it, their proton converter's on the fritz."

"So, I take it we're leaving the drift?" Dylan asked for the sake of conversation even as he spared a thought to marvel at the young man sitting next to him. Locked who knows how many decks away from the engine rooms and in serious pain, he could still tell what the problem was just by listening. Ah, Harper, ever the engineer.

"Sounds like it," Harper muttered. "Which is really in the 'not-so-good-for-us' category."

He closed his eyes again. His back and chest were aflame with pain and it was getting harder and harder to ignore. He was also aware of the minutes ticking by and knew he couldn't have much more time here before the brute squad came back. In fact, he was surprised he'd been brought here at all. He'd fully expected to be left dangling half-conscious by his wrists from the ceiling of that terrible room.

"Ug!" he cringed as he shifted slightly, instantly regretting it. "I could really use a Sparky…"

"Sorry," Dylan said, concern seeping into his voice again at Harper's obvious discomfort. "Next time room service comes by, I'll request a crate."

Mention of their friendly neighborhood Ubers brought Harper's thoughts home. He decided it was time to say a few things.

"Ah, Dylan, speaking of room service…those goons will be back for me soon. If I don't see you again, I just wanted you to know it's been one heck of a trip 'round the universe. I might have thought you were certifiably crazy half the time and out of your mind the rest, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

"Harper, don't talk like that. We're gonna get out of here, both of us!" Dylan said forcefully.

"Dylan, just shut up and listen for once, okay? Make sure and keep Beka out of trouble, and give Trance a hug for me. And you'd better find Rommie the best darn engineer you can, given that she's used to having a super-genius look after her."

Dylan opened his mouth to protest again but he never got the chance. The door of their cell burst open and three huge Nietzscheans stalked in. Two of them kept their weapons trained on Dylan while the third grabbed the chain connecting Harper's wrists and jerked him to his feet.

"Hey!" Dylan shouted angrily as Harper was dragged from the cell. "Leave my crew alone! Felix wants to talk, let him talk to me!"

But his cries fell on deaf ears and the door slammed shut again, leaving him alone in the cell and Harper on the other side being pulled back to that room.