Chapter 66
"Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be."
― Shel Silverstein
00000
Sitting in the small alcove that constituted her "office" on med-deck, Trance frowned at the readings she was getting from Andromeda's screens.
"Trance?"
She looked up at the sound of Beka's voice.
"In here," she called back quietly. She stuck her head out so Beka could see her and placed a warning finger against her lips as she nodded to the mostly closed door off to her left. "Shh…" she added.
"Oh, sorry," Beka whispered, looking sheepish as she walked over to Trance's little room. "Are they still asleep?"
"Yes, finally," she answered her friend. "Harper had a rough night." Coughing had kept the engineer up for several hours. She'd been ready to go check on him when she'd heard Dylan and Harper start talking. Something told her this was an important conversation that needed to happen without interruption, so she held back, especially since there was little she could do anyway. Eventually, their voices had died out, as had Harper's coughs. When she'd finally crept in to check on her friends a little while later, all three of her charges had been asleep. And sleep was the best healing medicine in the universe – she wouldn't wake them until she absolutely had to.
"What's all this?" Beka asked, pointing to the jumble of information on her monitors.
"Harper's scans," she answered sadly.
It had broken her heart to crush Harper's dreams yesterday, to know she couldn't give him the miracle he'd been holding out hope for. She'd known if her best friend ever managed to make it back to her he would be changed and hurt, but she'd never imagined he might be blind!
"Is there anything you missed, anything new?" The pleading in Beka's voice echoed her own feelings of helplessness back at her. Trance shook her head dejectedly.
"Nothing good," she said, causing the pages of information to scroll by one more time as she double-checked, her frown deepening.
"You mean there's new bad info?" Beka asked, leaning wearily against the wall of Trance's alcove.
With a sigh, Trance nodded. "The Tuberculosis is not responding to the drugs like I hoped it would."
"So, try different drugs," Beka said.
Andromeda's hologram flickered into the space beside Beka. "It's not that easy. This is a new strain I'm unfamiliar with. Tuberculosis was virtually eradicated during the First Commonwealth, but my medical records still contained information on how to treat it, how to synthesize the medicine, just in case. We'd hoped that the cure I have on file would have been similar enough to treat the disease, but it's not working. Some of my records have been updated since the Fall, but this strand of Tuberculosis is mutated and wasn't included."
"Then what do we do? I refuse to let Harper die from some disease that's not even supposed to exist anymore!"
Trance had been pondering the possible options, trying to run down the consequences of each path, decide what was best. "We need to send someone to the Research Hospital on Sinti," she suddenly said, making up her mind.
"You really think the chinheads have the answer?"
"They do have the largest Archive of Infectious Diseases in the known worlds. They've been collecting samples for centuries. They would be the best chance of having a sample of Harper's strain," Andromeda responded.
"Perhaps your friend Captain Patch would be willing – " Trance started to say but stopped abruptly when Beka shook her head.
"He just left," she said morosely. "But I can – "
"I will go."
Trance and Beka whipped around to find Tyr leaning against one of the exam beds, arms across his chest.
"Why?" Beka finally asked.
Trance narrowed her eyes, trying to peer ahead into the possibilities again, see what Tyr's ulterior motive might be and if it would be harmful in the long-run, but she saw nothing at all in the pulsating strands.
"You are still captain of this vessel," he said to Beka. "You cannot go. The avatar cannot fly the Maru through slipstream, and we all know better than to let the gold one do it." Trance couldn't help a small smile at that comment, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Besides, she is needed here. The obvious choice is for me to go."
Trance nodded. "You will need to take copies of Harper's scans as well as samples of his blood and the fluid in his lungs."
Andromeda's hologram disappeared and Trance knew she was already preparing the files on a flexi. Standing, she moved past Beka into the main area of Med-deck, quickly gathering the samples that were needed. She was grateful she'd collected extra yesterday. Harper would have been very grumpy with her if she woke him up just to tell him she had to stick him with more of the needles he loved so much. Carefully, she secured the viles and flexi into a metal case.
"I should probably make some kind of official letter to go with that," Beka said, remembering after a moment that she was still in command. "I'll meet you at the Maru in ten minutes." She started to leave, but stopped and turned back. "Oh, and Tyr, be nice to my ship," she added with a glare before walking away.
"Speed would be good," Trance said pointedly, nodding to the closed door before handing the large Nietzschean the case. "No side trips."
"I know the stakes. I will be back within two day's time," he said solemnly, bowing slightly before taking the case and exiting.
"Be careful, Tyr," Trance called softly to his withdrawing back. "People will start to think that you care."
If he heard her, he gave no indication and she smiled in knowing satisfaction before turning back to her tasks. Two days was still plenty of time for a deadly disease to wreak havoc on a weak little human body. She needed to research other options for keeping it at bay until the Kodiak could return.
00000
The door slid open, releasing a puff of stale air. Dylan stepped quietly inside and then stopped, letting it close behind him. For a while he just stood there, looking around.
His quarters appeared exactly as he had left them nearly a year ago when he headed out on what he thought would be a short, solo mission. Nothing had been touched or removed. It was like gazing into a snapshot of the Dylan who'd walked out of that room, the man he'd been. Time had been stopped once again on his ship only this time he hadn't been frozen with it. The man who'd left this room all those months before was not the same man who'd just come back in.
Finally, he moved forward, running his hands softly across the shelf that held his books and pictures, brushing the coverlet on the bed. They were his things and their familiarity pulled at him like a warm hearth, and yet they felt foreign and strange at the same time.
He stopped before the picture of Sara and him, caressing the image with gentle fingers. He gave her up, though it broke his heart, to willingly come back to his new time, to try and make the universe a better place. And then he allowed himself to get distracted, to forget it all. He became haughty, self-centered – a cad.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the image. "I'm sorry I forgot."
There were other things he'd forgotten, things he pushed aside as unimportant. He glanced again around the room. Sara's picture was there, but where were the photos of his parents? Of CJ? Of Beka and Trance and Harper? A captain didn't normally display mementos of his subordinates, but from day one that was never how it had worked with them. They weren't just captain and crew, they were a family – the only one he had left – and they meant as much to him as the one he'd lost. Had Rhade's betrayal destroyed his trust so much that he put up impregnable walls around his heart? Had he really been that cold and aloof before this nightmare?
Harper had only set foot on Sommer's Drift out of loyalty to him and his "mission," a mission the young man didn't always believe in himself. But he believed in Dylan, enough to risk everything. His friend had lost so much, paid such a dear price for his loyalty.
Beka had shouldered a command she'd never wanted in the first place - for him, to keep his dream alive. She, along with Trance and Tyr and Rommie, had turned the galaxy upside down searching for them, never giving up hope. No one in his old Commonwealth of rules and protocol had ever cared that much about him.
How arrogantly he'd marched into this time, vowing to push back the darkness, restore light and order and right. Acting like he and he alone knew what was best for the entire universe, had the market cornered on goodness. And yet he'd never bothered to look for the good that already existed, was all around him.
No more, he vowed silently. He was going to make sure that not all of these sacrifices and sufferings were in vain. He couldn't turn back the clock, restore the last year, save Harper from the agony and loss, but he could make sure he never, ever forgot again.
Reaching into the pocket of the clothes he'd been given to wear while in medical, he pulled out the knife he'd found back in the mine, the one that had made such a difference to their survival while on the run. It was dirty and ugly, a reminder of an evil, loathsome place. Exactly what Dylan wanted – a reminder to never again take things for granted, to never forget. Almost reverently, he set it on the shelf beside Sara's photo. As soon as he had a moment, other pictures would be joining it, on the shelf and around the walls of his quarters.
But for now, it was time to go to work.
"Rommie?" he called, moving purposefully to his closet, his heart doing a little dance of joy at the thought of wearing real, decent, clean clothes.
"Yes, Dylan?" The ship's hologram blinked into life.
"Would you ask Beka if she'd be willing to meet me here in twenty minutes? An off-the-record "official" meeting?"
Rommie's face took on the look she got when she was relaying information before she responded. "Beka says of course and to tell you she'll bring the coffee."
"Good," he said with a small smile. "We'll probably need it."
He showered quickly, despite the tantalizing desire to stand in the warm water for ages, relishing in a simple privilege so long denied. There would be other days for that. The clothes he pulled on when he was finished hung lose and baggy about his frame, another visible reminder of how much he'd changed. He tugged the pants up around his waist in annoyance, wondering if he still had a belt.
"Nietzschean Slave Camp – the diet that works," he mumbled, digging through his drawers until he came up with an ancient pair of suspenders that he didn't even remember owning. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers, and he slipped them on over his undershirt and then pulled his shirt back on top.
The door chime rang while he was combing his hair and he quickly let Beka in. For a moment, she just stood there frozen, a thermos in each hand.
"What?" he eventually asked.
"It's just…well…you finally look like Dylan again."
He gave her an ironic smile. "It's the first time I've actually felt like me in a long time," he agreed.
"Oh, here," she said, thrusting the silver container into his hands. "Don't tell Trance I gave you caffeine."
"And risk more fussing?" he scoffed, gesturing toward his small sitting area. "I'm smarter than that."
Beka gave a small laugh and sat down. He took the chair across from her and then took a sip of the warm drink.
It was heavenly! The flavor exploded in his mouth, the best thing he'd tasted in a year, and a small sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes for just a moment in pure bliss.
When he opened them again, Beka was staring at him, her emotions raw and transparent. He suspected she was remembering, seeing him how he'd looked a week ago when he walked into that wrecked ship wearing chains and rags, looking every bit the part of staving slave.
"I'll be okay, Beka," he said softly, moved by her obvious concern.
She shook her head, pasting on a more normal expression. "I know," she answered quickly. "I just…well…I missed you. I was starting to think I might never…see you again."
"We have you to thank for that not happening."
Her face fell and she leaned forward, setting the drink on his table and then resting her arms on her legs. "I took too long, Dylan. I should have had you guys out of there months ago."
"How?" he asked simply. "Did you know where we were?"
"No."
"Then how would you have ever found us earlier?"
"I should have tried harder. Should have thought to look on Rellim; it was on Harper's list after all. You would have – "
"Beka, stop," he said, putting a hand on hers to keep her from going on. "Just stop. You found us, you came, you got us out. You never gave up. So don't play the 'should have' game. I know from experience it does no good."
She finally looked up, meeting his eyes.
"Thank you," he said fervently. "For everything."
She swallowed thickly and looked away. After a moment to compose herself she turned back, her tough-Beka mask back up.
"You ready to take this gig back?" she asked.
"Do you want to keep it?" he countered, completely serious. In the old Commonwealth, his tour of duty would have been over several years ago. He'd spoken with Rommie earlier; Beka had done an excellent, if slightly unorthodox, job as captain over the last year. It wasn't fair to come back and simply yank that away from her if she now wanted to continue.
"Oh, heck no!" she cried, fervently shaking her head. "I've got grey hairs because of this last year! All this diplomacy and responsibility and having to act mature and polite… Why would I want that?"
Dylan laughed, leaning back and drinking more of the black ambrosia she'd brought him.
"Rommie says you've done well," he told her honestly.
"Did she also show you the list of people who have now crossed us of their Christmas Card list?"
"I always hated that list, anyway."
She finally laughed as well, but it was short lived before she quieted again. 'So, are you ready?"
No, a part of him wanted to say, the part that was still afraid he'd changed too much to slip back into this life, but he remembered Harper and Simon and Sara and pushed that part aside. "Yes," he said out loud.
"Rommie?" Beka called. Andromeda's hologram appeared immediately. "Please note that Dylan is officially back in command, and I'm extremely happy to be demoted down to first officer and somewhat disreputable freighter captain again."
"Noted and logged," Rommie said with a small smile, then she turned to Dylan. "Welcome back."
"Thank you, Rommie. And how about we hold off making an official announcement for a while, until I get all the way up to speed?"
"Or course. Would you like me to inform Trance and Tyr?"
"Yeah, that's fine."
She nodded and blinked out.
"So," Dylan asked, looking back at Beka. "What have I missed?"
00000
Dylan was furious. He stalked through the corridors on his way to Med-deck, ignoring the shocked and disbelieving looks from the crew he was no longer actively avoiding, replaying the conversation with Beka over and over through his mind.
The Triumvirate were acting like idiots!
An entire year, and nothing had been done about the looming threat of the Worldship! No plan, no mobilization, nothing! They didn't even seem to acknowledge that it existed! As if they expected to stick their heads in the sand and it would go right past them!
And then there was the fact that not only had the Commonwealth in essence washed their hands of Harper and him after they'd been captured on a mission they'd ordered him on, but from what Beka had told him they'd practically commanded the others not to look, not to rescue them. Beka had been forced to use all the cunning, devious tricks she'd once employed to sneak behind the back of their own government, just to save two Commonwealth officers!
It was insane! And it made his blood boil. This was not the way things were supposed to work. He had an armada of questions that needed answers and the Triumvirate needed a strong wake-up call, both things he planned on delivering in person when he crashed their next meeting on Tarazed.
Med-deck was strangely quiet when he slipped inside, Trance nowhere in sight. Dylan breathed a sigh of relief. He was due another nutritional supplement and round of antibiotics and he wasn't looking forward to it. He crossed quickly through the empty space and to the door of the private room where Harper was still confined. The blast of cold air that hit him in the face when he entered took him entirely by surprise.
"Wow," he muttered, stopping short just inside the entrance. He could almost see his breath.
"Welcome to the North Pole," Harper said, his sarcasm not able to completely hide the weariness in his voice.
The boy was sitting up on his bed, swathed in blankets. What alarmed Dylan most, however, was the addition of an IV line that disappeared under the blankets and the nasal cannula that he now wore under his nose. A gaudy purple hat stocking cap with smiling flowers was pulled down to his ears. At the sight, all thoughts of the Commonwealth fled, instantly replaced by fresh worry for his young friend.
"What's going on?" he asked, stepping up beside Harper's bed, goosebumps breaking out on his skin because of the temperature.
"The TB isn't responding to the meds," Harper explained with resignation. "Trance is trying alternative methods to at least control the symptoms until she can figure it out."
"And those methods include turning you into a popsicle?" he asked incredulously.
Harper shrugged. "It is easier to breathe in the cold air," he admitted. "My lungs and ribs thank her – the rest of me not so much."
"Did Trance give you the hat?" Dylan asked as he snagged a couple of blankets from one of the other beds, wrapping them around himself before sitting on the chair by the engineer's side.
"Yeah, why…?" Harper trailed off, a look of great alarm on his face. "It's pink and covered in bunnies or princesses or something, isn't it? I'm gonna kill her…"
"Just purple," Dylan said with a laugh, wisely omitting mention of the flowers.
Harper shook his head in disbelief. "I knew something like this would happen."
Dylan patted the boy's blankets in mock comfort. "It looks very good on you," he said, still laughing.
"Sure," groused Harper.
"So, where's Twig?" Dylan asked, missing the little boy.
"It's too cold in here for him. Trance is showing him around the ship."
Dylan didn't miss the pain in Harper's voice as he explained and the captain knew the kid had hoped he would be the one to have that honor.
"Would you let him come stay with you in your quarters tonight?" Harper continued. "He can't stay here and I think he'd fall apart if we made him be by himself in quarters of his own."
"Of course," he answered at once. He loved the little boy fiercely and would do anything to help him, though he had no doubt that once Harper was released from Med-deck Twig would be staying with the engineer. Which meant that Harper might actually have to pick a spot to live – quarters, machine shop, Maru…
"Thanks," the young man responded. "So, is it official?" he asked, leaning back against his pillows. "Is it Captain Dylan Hunt again?"
"Yeah," Dylan answered, some of the frustration of before creeping back in.
"What?" Harper asked, picking up on the tone in his answer immediately.
"Everything's a mess."
"So, same old, same old?"
Dylan let out a slightly bitter laugh, having to acknowledge the truth in his friend's words.
"What is it you always say…?" Harper continued with a grin.
"…It's never easy," they both finished together. Dylan leaned back and laughed for real this time, then waited for Harper to ride through a harsh coughing fit.
"You should remember that, too," he said gently once the convulsions had passed.
"I'm trying," the boy said quietly. "I'm really trying."
Dylan squeezed his friend's shoulder carefully, smiling sadly. "I know."
00000
"Wow…"
The word slipped quietly from the little boy standing beside her. His eyes were as large as planets as he gazed around the room she'd just led him into.
"It's so pretty!"
Trance smiled, remembering what felt like a lifetime ago when she'd had almost the same reaction to walking into Hydroponics for the first time. "This is my favorite room," she said honestly. "Do you like it?"
The boy nodded. He was leaning forward as though he wanted to take off and explore but couldn't quite act on the impulse, the years of conditioning as a slave still too strong. Sorrow swept through her. "Go ahead," she said encouragingly. "You can look around."
Twig hesitated, but she nodded again and he finally smiled, stepping off down one of the paths. She expected him to run through the grass and plants like most boys his age would, but instead he walked slowly, studying each plant or flower with a careful, serious expression.
"What's this one called," he asked, his curious fingers hovering over a bright, maroon flower.
"That's a violet."
"And this one?"
"A Vedran sunflower."
"And what's this green stuff?" the boy asked, staring with wonder at one of the small patches of grass Trance tended with care for the ship's crew.
"That's grass. Touch it," she urged. He brushed it with his fingertips as though afraid it might bite him, but then his face instantly lit up. "It's so soft!"
For a full five minutes he just stayed there, combing his fingers back and forth through the flexible blades. Trance smiled at his simple wonder, seeing her plants as she hadn't for years thanks to the stunned awe of one discarded little boy.
"Can we bring Harper here?" Twig asked after a while. "I bet he would like to feel the grass, too."
"You are probably right," she answered, moved. "Yes, when he's feeling better, we will bring him here to touch the grass." She just hoped it wouldn't make her friend more depressed, another reminder of what he couldn't see anymore.
"Can you make him better?" the child asked her suddenly, his voice small and worried. His fingers stopped and he faced her, fear on his face. "He's not going to die is he?"
Trance crouched down beside him and placed her hands on his thin arms. "No, Twig, I promise you I will not let him die," she said fervently, promising to herself as much as to Twig.
"Okay," he said, but Trance wasn't sure he completely believed her. Death was still too much an unavoidable and unstoppable part of his life.
"Come here," she said, standing again and extending a hand out to her young charge. "Want to see Dylan's basketball court?"
"Oh yes!" the boy cried, jumping to his feet. "Dylan told me all about that. It sounds even more exciting than playing catch!"
"Well, then, let's go look. You can start practicing and then challenge Dylan to a game. It can be our surprise."
As she led the grinning child through the gardens to the court, Trance once again marveled at the resilience of the human spirit, as demonstrated by the forgotten little boy. This was why she still believed in the perfect possible future for all races, despite what her family would have her believe.
Author's Note:
Thank you so much to everyone who has kept reading and reviewing this story! I'm woefully behind on responding to those reviews, but I wanted you to know I appreciated them and will get to it. THANKS!
Also on a side note, I've received a few reviews thanking me for finally completing this story. While I do appreciate the support and love, I want to assure readers that this story isn't done yet. It's entering a different phase of the action, but it's far from finished yet. I hope you will all keep reading while I spin this tale out to it's conclusion. :)
Thanks again!