+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Rommie had been standing by Harper's bed in medical for two hours when Tyr entered. The blonde engineer appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but that was lie. The pain from the now-active Magog larvae in his stomach had become so great, he'd had to take tranquilizers just to get to sleep.
In the morning, they'd arrive at Sinti, and the waiting would be over -- Harper would be cured or .... she didn't mince words, they would have to kill him to prevent the Magog from hatching. All the research Trance had done with Harper and Rev (before he'd left) had not yielded anything; the Taelon medical database they'd gone through so much to get had proven to be a dead end. From the looks of the data files Harper had been accessing, he had only one card left to play .... an option as dangerous as the larvae if not more so.
He could be dead in a day no matter what happened.
So with nothing else to do, and most of the crew asleep, Rommie had been drawn down to medical. She wanted to be there for Harper, just to *be there* for him the way he had for her (without even knowing it), and also, somehow, record everything she could of his appearance and being, as if her sensors could draw in just one small part of him and she could keep it, hold it, forever, long after he'd gone.
It wasn't rational. She wasn't feeling rational, and she didn't care what anyone else said.
So she didn't pay too much attention to Tyr. Memory update from her main A. I. showed he'd accidently injured his wrist while working out and had to tend to it. So she kept focused on Harper as Tyr busied himself at a counter behind her. When he was done, the big Nietzschean started for the door, pausing briefly to look at Harper's bed, then he left.
In the corridor, Tyr stopped in his tracks a dozen paces from the medical ward. "Ship. I would have words with you."
One of Andromeda's holograms appeared in front of him. "What about, Tyr?"
"Harper."
Andromeda's face and voice hardened. "If you're thinking of going in there and killing him now, it would be very bad for your health."
"No, although to be honest, I had considered it. I was thinking of the longer term, in the event Harper is cured and survives."
"Oh, yes?"
"I think you should move to actively squash his infatuation with you, even if it causes him emotional pain."
Rommie was momentarily taken aback. "Why in the name of the Empress should I do that?"
"You will recall that when the Magog came aboard, Harper accessed your memory core from one of the reactors to restore you to normal functioning," Tyr said.
"Yes, I know," Rommie said. She didn't like to be reminded of the backup personality Harper had accidentally reactivated; she'd been ashamed of her actions ever since.
"Then perhaps you recall that Harper had wanted to stay in that chamber and assist in the process, even in the face of a Magog hoard?" Tyr asked.
"Yes," Rommie said.
"Had he done so, he would have died .... *for you.* And on Mechanite Alpha, his will would have been to risk all our lives, again *for you* -- or, at least an aspect of yourself."
Andromeda's image bristled. "Are you charting a course here, Tyr, or are you just in free drift?"
"In both cases, Harper valued his own survival less than that of a machine," Tyr explained. "In other words, Ship, his infantile infatuation with something he can not even breed with will probably get him killed .... and maybe the rest of us. I will not have my survival compromised by a childhood crush you permit because it amuses you."
"JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?" Rommie's voice shouted from behind him. Tyr turned to see the avatar coming up to him. She stopped almost toe-to-toe with him, glaring, enraged.
"A member of your crew who wants to live to see another day," Tyr said quietly. "Harper's infatuation with you leaves him with misplaced priorities. He takes unnecessary risks on your behalf and, if I'm not mistaken, is unwilling to give you direct orders as is his place. Both those tendencies, given that you are a warship that is no stranger to combat, could lead to dangerous, potentially disastrous actions on his part under the right circumstances. Against that, you have only one recourse: Actively discourage his interest in you."
"And just what the frell are you talking about? I've never encouraged Harper!"
"No, but you don't discourage him either."
"You're talking out your bone spurs."
"Am I?" Tyr folded his arms. "Very well, Ship -- this fine humanoid body of yours. Is it still 'fully functional'?"
"What if it is?" Rommie snapped.
"You could have returned the body to Harper, or destroyed it on your own," Tyr said. "Or you could have had Harper remove the 'extra parts' or made those modifications yourself. You never did?"
"So?" both Andromedas, hologram and android, said.
"Well, aside from whatever else one may infer from that decision," Tyr replied, "I think you have kept your avatar 'as is' because Harper's infatuation both amused you and played to your vanity. You wanted more. So you have not discouraged him from pursuing you as much as you could have. If Harper survives tomorrow, you should actively move to quash it. It will be good for him, you, the rest of the crew -- "
"Including you!"
"-- of course -- in the long run."
Rommie's jaw worked for several seconds before she could speak without shouting. "I will say this once, Tyr, and only once: My interpersonal relationships with the members of my crew are between me and those crew members -- no one else! -- unless they constitute a danger to this ship and crew, and in my judgement, my dealings with Harper do not fall into that category. If you disagree with that, take it to Dylan; his are the only orders I have to respond to in such matters. And if you bother me about this again, your survival will be at risk. Clear?"
"Clear." Tyr said. He turned on his heel and strode away, passing through the hologram an instant before it vanished.
**********
--Maybe Tyr had a point, Rommie transmitted to her ship self. She'd returned to Medical and stood by Harper's bedside, slowly calming down, before she opened a channel.
--Tyr is a cynic, the mainframe answered. --Remember his take on your liaison with Gabriel? Which, by the way, I went to bat for .... you .... with him over even though I thought it was a waste of time.
--I remember -- thank .... you -- but this is different. Maybe Tyr was right. Maybe Harper wouldn't be lying here now if I had done a better job of staying detached, professional, of not ..... not letting him get so close ....
--What was I supposed to have done? Be rude, mean, cruel? That's contrary to my programming.
--I know ....
--And I do care for him very much; it's not as if I'm using him. He loves me and takes care of me; I .... need him, feel affection for him ... Whatever I have done regarding him was not done to "play to my vanity," and I know it.
--I know, but still, have I been good for him? .... Well?
--I don't know.
Just then the hatch slid open; Beka Valentine -- Harper's captain long before he'd come aboard the Andromeda -- crept into the room, and came to Rommie's side.
"Just came down to look in on him," Beka whispered. "How's he doing?"
"Asleep; the tranqs will make sure he's rested tomorrow. No major changes, either way."
"Um, if the larvae became active ahead of schedule, would you, uh .... ?"
"Yes .... I'm sorry."
"S'okay."
"Is it?"
That got Beka's attention. "Something on your mind, Rommie?"
Rommie hesitated, them motioned Beka to come over to a corner with her.
"What is it?" Beka prodded gently.
"Um .... Beka, do you think, uh .... do you think I've done right by Harper?"
"In what way?"
"In any way. Professionally .... personally ... " Rommie's voice trailed off.
"Yes, Rommie, I think you have."
"It doesn't look that way from here."
"Rommie .... scan Harper's liver. What does it look like?"
"A mess."
"From drinking *way* too much. The only reason he was even remotely sober when we found you was because I told him that job was too important to mess up. Otherwise, being plastered on the job was not unusual."
"Harper's an alcoholic?" Rommie said; she'd never guessed.
"I don't know," Beka said. "He cut down his drinking so much after he arrived here, I doubt it. But he just didn't care, Rommie. He didn't give a damn about anybody or anything, so he didn't care if he destroyed himself. Whatever money we got from jobs, he blew on booze and cyberbrothels, and you know how good those are for your central nervous system over the long haul. Rev and I would plead with him to change his ways; I even sent him on dates with some pretty nice girls. Nothing worked. He never gave a damn about anything ..... until he met you. You gave him something to care about, Rommie, someone who needed him. You may have saved his life."
"And if I have to take his life tomorrow? That doesn't sound like a good trade to me, Beka."
"It's better than what he was headed for, Rommie, and it comes after more than a year as the chief engineer of a High Guard starship. Now, how many other people today can say that?"
Rommie smiled. "Not many."
"So don't you go blaming yourself, hear me? I don't want to loose him either -- " Beka's voice broke a little, just a little "-- but whatever happens tomorrow, you did all right. Don't blame yourself. Hear me?"
Rommie smiled a bit. "Is that an order, Captain Valentine?"
"It most certainly is, Andromeda," Beka answered with her own grin.
"Ok." Rommie -- feeling a little better -- turned away and strolled back to Harper's bedside, resuming her vigil. Beka started to leave, hesitated, and then moved to stand by Rommie.
"Mind if I stay a while?" Beka asked.
"No," Rommie said. "I don't mind at all."
THE END