Chapter 48

I live now on borrowed time, waiting in the anteroom for the summons that will inevitably come. And then – I go on to the next thing, whatever it is. One doesn't luckily have to bother about that.

- Agatha Christie

00000

"Dylan?"

The captain turned to face his friend when the engineer spoke. For now, it was just the two of them, Twig having wandered off to play cards with Peter. It was getting too cool in the evenings to spend much time outside, so they were sitting inside their barrack, leaning wearily against the log walls.

"Right here, Harper." Dylan gave the young man a good once-over as he answered, trying to decide where the conversation was headed by the shape the boy was in. He looked worn-out, starved, and pale, but that was nothing new. His cap was slapped on his hairless head with the short brim pointing backwards. Dylan didn't know if Harper was deliberately trying to make a jaunty new fashion statement, or if it was an honest mistake because he couldn't see, but it did give him a more relaxed, normal air than was usual. Still, Dylan frowned as his gaze fell on the massive black eye covering one side of Harper's face, strangely about the same size as a well-proportioned Uber fist. Maybe that's what Harper wanted to talk about?

"How's your chemistry?"

A look that was more at home on Harper's own face flashed across the captain's. "Huh?" he asked in utter confusion.

Without moving, Harper smiled deeply. "Not that kind of chemistry, Boss," he laughed. "You know, NA, AU, isotopes, chemical bonds…that kind of chemistry."

"Oh," Dylan replied, still a little flummoxed. This was certainly not the conversation he'd been expecting. It kind of threw him. "I, um, took a few classes, back in the day. But why are you asking me? You're the resident genius."

"Yes, and chemistry was one of the many courses I took in my extensive formal education," Harper said with tired sarcasm.

Dylan flinched a little, even though he knew his friend hadn't really meant to make his words sting. The boy was just tired beyond belief. "Sorry," he offered quietly. Harper was a certifiable genius, that much was true. Dylan had become so used to the boy pulling off anything he put his mind to that he sometimes forgot the sad facts of his upbringing.

Harper sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest, letting his chin fall forward on top of them. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. Just been a long day. The truth is, chemistry has never been my strength. I usually get Rommie or Trance to check chemical equations for me, or use my dataport, and well here…" he gestured around at the blackness with his good hand, "my options are bit more limited."

"Well, I can't say I was top of the class," Dylan said with a small smile. "I was usually more interested in what Daphne Perkins next to me was saying than what the instructor had to say, but I did pull a B, so I can try and help. What's on your mind?"

"Salt," Harper said tersely.

"Salt?" the captain echoed, not following at all.

"Well, sodium chloride to be more precise."

"What about it?" Dylan asked, still confused. By being included in this little brainstorming project, he was getting a crash course in how Harper's mind worked. He felt like he was flying through slipstream without a pilot.

"Do you remember the percentage of salt in the human body?" Harper countered.

Dylan gave up on following and just decided to play along. "Something like 0.14% or 0.15% isn't it?" That much he did remember because it had been reiterated in mandatory High Guard first aid classes. "But I think it fluctuates with your body mass."

Harper looked thoughtful, even though he was still staring off at nothing. "Okay, that's what I thought. What about the percentage of sodium in the oceans?"

"Lots of planets with lots of oceans, Mr. Harper, and not even all of them have salt water oceans."

"On Tarn Vedra then," Harper replied casually. "Or Earth, before the occupation, if you know…"

"Well, according to my dad, Tarn Vedra's oceans contained an average of about 1.12% sodium. I think that was a bit lower than Earth's oceans, but I'm not sure how much lower."

Harper just nodded. "Thanks."

Dylan waited for the engineer to say something else, ask more questions, or at least explain a bit, but Harper continued to sit there, ignoring the captain as he sorted through his own thoughts.

"Pretty tired," he finally said after a long while. "Gonna go to bed."

"All right," Dylan replied, shrugging as he watched his friend maneuver himself onto their pile of straw. Harper lowered himself gingerly to his side, avoiding his always bleeding back, and pulled his ragged blanket up to his chin, curling his feet up to keep them covered as well.

"Goodnight, Mr. Harper," Dylan whispered to himself as Harper's breathing evened out with sleep. "Rest that very confusing brain of yours."

00000

Sorrow is like an element. It can be a gas, thick in the air, dispelling the oxygen, snatching breath away. It can be a solid, an unmovable lump in the throat, a sharp stumbling block. And it can be a liquid, tears leaking from dull eyes, rolling down pale cheeks, falling to parched earth… The ground can swallow sorrow, carry it deep until it becomes a part of the landscape, a memory and fixture as constant and old as the rocks and the hills and the trees. Land can learn to smell like sorrow, water can take on its taste, birds can draw it into their songs.

And people who live in those lands of sorrow absorb it into their very bones.

With a deep, deep sigh, Alfred looked around the village square. The dull clank of chains mingled with muffled sobs and filled the air. New slaves…chattel…possessions of the strong and powerful waited limply in lines for their fate. Nameless, faceless, objects…and yet, even after ten years, Alfred still saw people, sorrow etched deep on the face of each and every one. Men, old and young, children… Ten years now…and the agony still cut clean through.

Just one more week until they reached the city and he could deliver his message. Just one more week of marching through this sorrow-soaked land and plucking people from their lives, of watching arrogant men play god with souls like they were playing chess.

Just one more week, then he could see them as any other slave trekking to the camp, any other prisoner laboring away their lives… Then he could forget the faces they left behind, the hands that clutched after them, the sobs that followed them until snatched away by the wind.

One more week until he could go back to the comfortable lie that was his life.

00000

Beka looked up as the door to her office chirped, announcing a visitor.

"Yeah, come in," she called, pushing aside the flexi's of paperwork, glad for a break. Who knew being captain of a warship came with so much busywork?

A young, handsome if somewhat nervous man in his early thirties stepped into the room and stood at attention before Beka's desk while she desperately racked her brain for a name.

"Yes, Lieutenant…um…Jerkins," she said, crossing her fingers that she got it right. "What do ya need? Oh, and relax. You're gonna throw your back out, standing there like that."

The man relaxed, barely. "As you know, we've been retrofitting the slipstream drive this last week and implementing the new Commonwealth safety procedures."

"Yeah," Beka answered, glad for once that she actually knew what he was talking about. "I heard you engineers have been having fun."

"Well…" the man seemed suddenly more nervous, if that was possible.

"Come on, spit it out."

"We can't complete the procedure without the proper command codes…from the Chief Engineer…"

The words pulled the scab off Beka's barely healed wounds and she winced slightly. Then she sucked in her breath and tried to hide it. The lieutenant had worked up the courage to come ask her, something she knew couldn't have been easy given the topic, and he did have a valid point. He was a good man, trying hard to fill some very un-fill-able shoes, and doing it with a tact she appreciated. She squared her shoulders, knowing it was time to put something right.

"Lieutenant Jerkins, you're the acting Chief Engineer right now, aren't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied quietly.

"Well, not anymore. I'm making it official," she said, willing her heart not to break as she said the words. "Rommie," she called to the room.

Rommie's hologram blinked into existence beside the desk. "Yes, Beka?"

"Release all of Harper's command codes, engineering files, and passwords to Lieutenant Jerkins and then, well you'd probably better go through them with him. Harper's passwords alone can give you a headache. Oh, and update Jerkins' file from Acting Chief Engineer to Chief Engineer."

"Updating now. The files are ready and waiting at your convenience," she added to the engineer.

Jerkins looked slightly dazed, but nodded smartly. "Thank you."

Beka forcibly held onto her emotions for a bit longer. "Harper spoke highly of you," she told him. "Liked working with you for the short while he did. Don't let him down."

"I won't, I promise," he said and then turned to leave, knowing that was his new captain's informal way of dismissing him. He stopped short of the door, however, and turned back. Beka eyed him with curiosity.

"Ma'am, I just wanted you to know, I liked him, too. Never met anyone who was a better engineer, even at the Academe. And if...if he ever does come back, I'll be glad to give the job back to him." Then he disappeared through the doors without waiting for her to reply, which Beka was grateful for. No good crying in front of the crew.

"Beka?"

The blonde captain looked up. She'd forgotten holo-Rommie was still there.

"It was something you had to do. I'm proud of you."

"Then why do I feel like I just betrayed my best friend?"

"Because your human emotions are programmed to respond illogically to situations such as these…" she trailed off. "And because I feel the same way." The projection blinked out.

Beka sighed and let her head sink into her hands, but only for a minute. Life had to go on, and there was still paperwork to do.