====
"Mis-Ter Harper," Dylan said, Rommie at his elbow, as the young engineer came through the slipfighter hangar door, surf board under one arm and duffel bag over his shoulder. The two High Guard officers did not look happy.
"Hey, Dylan, Rom Doll," Harper said, forcing a smile, although he looked as if he had just relieved himself in his pants. He jerked a thumb back at the duffel bag. "I got them parts all upgraded, nice and sweet."
"That's nice," Dylan said. "And the other part of your trip?"
"Uuuhhhhhh ..... "
Dylan put an arm on Harper's shoulder; the three of them started down the corridor.
"Mr. Harper," Dylan said. "I know things were done a little .... differently on the *Maru,* but this isn't the *Maru.* And while I haven't been a stickler for military etiquette, I think I'm within my rights to ask for a little consideration in return, like letting me know if you're going to make an unscheduled stop on the way home."
"But Boss, it wasn't my fault! With everything that's been happening, I'd forgot the finals were coming up, and I had to get my entry fee in right away -- "
"And how difficult would it have been to send us a message saying you would be delayed?"
Harper sagged. "Ok, I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted; just bear it in mind for next time, ok? ..... How'd you do, by the way?"
"Huh?"
"The championships."
"Oh, not bad -- ninth place. Woulda done better, but Pan Galactic's been dominated by friggin' ub -- er, Nietzscheans since '82. But it wasn't all bad! I got me a secret admirer."
"Really?" Dylan said.
"Well, there's no accounting for taste," Rommie said.
"Ha-ha," Harper said.
"How'd you find out?" Dylan asked.
"Kinda weird," Harper said. "'Bout a day or two before I left, I got a request to autograph one of the publicity photos. Arrived by courier, but no return address -- just an account number."
"Really," Dylan said, genuinely curious. "Did you sign it?"
"Yeah, and then I hacked the Freelance Courier Co-Op to see if I could trace it back to its source -- hey, c'mon, Dylan, wouldn't you'a done the same thing? -- yeah, I looked, but there was no trace of it. None."
"There is a technical term for such an occurrence," Rommie said dryly.
"Oh?" Harper asked.
"A hallucination."
Harper scowled at her. "Oh, right! What do you know about it? I'm tellin' ya, someone out there loves me, and someday, I'm gonna find her .... "
****
"Ship's status green," the Main AI said from one of the huge main screens on the command deck. "All systems go. No errors or warnings. No threats in the immediate vicinity. Crew status: All asleep."
"Finally," Android Rommie said. She pressed her hand to a control panel and plunged into her VR matrix. She didn't have to go in this way -- it was her mind after all -- but she found the 'outside looking in' perspective her avatar afforded her intriguing.
She walked to a wall in the virtual canyon and pressed her hand against it; an opening appeared ....
..... and she walked into an area the size (from this perspective) of an indoor football stadium, whose walls, floor, and ceilings were plastered with images and information on Seamus Harper. And the largest image of all, framed by data on his surfing career, was the photo he had autographed: "Hugs and Kisses from the Love God -- Seamus Z. Harper."
A smile tugged at Rommie's lips. "I hope you find her," she said quietly.
THE END