****WARNING FOR VIOLENCE AND ANGST****
++++
"That which does not kill you leaves you wounded; it is
the healing that makes you stronger"
-- The Anointed of the Way, Commentaries and Meditations,
compiled CY 10,021
There wasn't any reason for Rommie to actually reread the flexie; it would have been a simple matter to reconnect it to her ship self's IS network and access the data. But she let her eyes run over the message one more time:
'Please know that I love you all. You have given my life meaning and purpose, but more than that, your love, friendship, and loyalty has sustained me through these last two-and-a-half years. I want nothing more than to continue serving with you. But I am no longer fit to perform my function; I am a danger to you all, and there is only one logical course of action open to me. It will be better for you in the long run.
'Hold the Line.'
"Gabriel was right," she murmured. "There really is no substitute for reading the words one at a time."
Andromeda's hologram appeared on the opposite side of the small desk her android self was sitting at. "Are you sure all this is necessary?" she asked.
Rommie didn't look up. "You could stop me with a direct order. You know that."
The hologram said nothing.
"Thought so." Rommie picked a stylus and signed her name on the flexie with perfect cursive penmanship (of course). She laid the stylus and the flexie down on the desk, got up from her stool, and crossed to the far side of the darkened room, to stand before a locker that, while nondescript looking, was off limits to even the smallest aspect of the *Andromeda Ascendant's* artificial intelligence no matter how many safeguards Harper had installed.
Until now.
"Open it," Rommie said.
"I'll require authoriz -- " the hologram started.
"Shut up and do it," Rommie snapped, and then added in a smaller voice: "Let's get this over with."
With no fanfare, the locker opened and a shelf extended from it, holding its one article: A small metal box with a control panel just big enough for Rommie to cover with her hand.
The Drago Kasov's AI eraser. She had but to touch it and the toxic program would flood through her and into the ship's systems, hunting down and erasing every trace of the ship's AI ....
Killing her.
Rommie studied it for a moment -- death in a small box. But she reminded herself that this was for the best. She took a half step forward --
"So it has come to this," Tyr Anasazi boomed, stepping from the shadows. Rommie hadn't been aware of him until now; that alone annoyed her.
"I must tell you, Andromeda, how disappointed I am," Tyr added.
Rommie didn't look at him. "Disappointed!?"
"Though not surprised," Tyr went on, almost conversationally. "You know, it took me the first eleven months of my time on this ship to convince myself not to take my leave of all of you -- to convince myself you all had the will to survive? Imagine my surprise to find myself in the company of people who eagerly embraced suicide when they find themselves in crisis: The Magog tried to starve himself. Harper tried to kill himself twice. Dylan ..... well, Dylan takes so many personal risks one has to wonder. And then there's you. Though I'm given to understand this is not your first -- "
Rommie turned on the big Nietzschean. "YOU DON'T KNOW!" she snarled. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"
"Very well," Tyr said calmly, unfazed by her anger. "Enlighten me..... "
****
"May I ask you a question that might be of a personal nature?" Tyr said, not really looking up from his work on the weapon's station, sounding as if he were talking about a targeting solution. But the word "personal" got Rommie's attention -- the one constant in her relationship with Tyr (if one could call it that) was that when he stood a watch alone on Command, he was all business. Period. Her head snapped to the Nietzschean, all thoughts of her recent ordeal at the hands of the tunnel aliens driven from her CPU.
"By all means, Tyr," Rommie said, eyeing him with a combination of surprise and suspicion, "if that's who you really are."
"Machine humor. How droll. But anyway, I am curious about your little display with Harper earlier. What did he mean by, 'I didn't do anything to you'?"
"That's between me and him. What's it to you?"
"My well-being, as well as that of everyone else on this ship. My condition depends on your condition, and that depends on how well you work with Harper. So, is there a problem?"
Rommie frowned; then shrugged. Tyr had a point, and besides, she probably should tell *somebody.* "Maybe. I don't know."
"You don't know?" Tyr finally looked at her.
"Do you want an answer or not?" Rommie snapped.
"My apologies. Continue."
"It's just that ..... there are holes in my mind -- in *this body's* mind, and in the records of its activities in the mainframe. They've been locked in files that I can't access. I only recently learned they were even there; they're almost indistinguishable from lost files and garbage. But I can tell that they are all created at 'night,' when Harper is the only one awake, and when I am near his area on the ship."
"And you assumed .... that Harper, um .... "
"That Harper has been fucking me -- raping me, perhaps -- and then deleting the records?"
"Not how I would have put it, but yes."
"Yes."
"I see ..... But I find this hard to believe, Ship. Whatever else may be said about Harper and his misplaced sexual interest in you, given how protective he is, I would be hard pressed to believe that even in a moment of total depravity he would do *anything* to harm you."
"I know," Rommie said, sitting on the platform next to the pilot's station. "Yet he's the only one who has the expertise to pull something like this off, especially considering that he built me."
"You're sure of there are no other suspects?"
"Who else could it be?"
"There are ways to find out." Tyr turned back to his console. "I shall investigate."
"No, Tyr you don't have to -- "
"If you are being abused, that is a violation of ship's security, not to mention a potential threat to my own survival. I shall look into it."
"Well .... ok, Tyr, but please be discrete."
"Of course."
****
Rommie arrived in Tyr's cabin the next morning to find the big Nietzschean seated at his desk, another large rifle at his side.
"I didn't think you had two," Rommie quipped as the door shut behind her.
"But of course, although this model is inferior to the one I lost."
"Shame. My heart bleeds for you. Really. Honest ..... So, what is it, Tyr? You didn't summon me to talk about guns."
"No." Tyr leaned forward, wrestling with what he had to say. "Rommie .... do you recall what happened last night beginning at 0145 hours?"
"0145? I left command and --- no, wait, my memory has been altered! You're saying there was another incident?"
Tyr nodded.
"And you know who did it!?"
Another nod.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense, Tyr, tell me who it was!"
"I will have to show you, although I do not think this is the answer you expected." Tyr tabbed a control on his desk, and the wall screen lit up, showing Harper working at his work bench in the slipstream core, near his sleeping area, bent over a small piece of machinery.
"Harper -- !?" Rommie started.
"Wait," Tyr said. "Observe."
Rommie held her tongue and watched as she entered the picture. She came up behind Harper and began rubbing his shoulders. "Hi, Harper," she cooed (as the real Rommie's jaw dropped). "What'chya doin'?"
"Just finishin' this guidance subprocessor, Baby. I'll install it in the morning, and you'll be good as new."
"Really? How sweet." Then Rommie's face twisted in rage and she reached around Harper, smashing the part and shoving the remains off the bench. Then she yanked Harper off his stool and punched him in the stomach; he promptly doubled over.
"You miserable little shit!" Rommie snarled. "You know WHAT I need and WHEN I need it, and I don't need any shit from you." She started kicking Harper, then she began pounding his ribs and back with her fists. Curled up in a fetal position, Harper just whimpered and sobbed at every impact.
"Pathetic piece of shit!" Rommie raged. "I should just blow you out an airlock. Worthless ground pounding -- "
(Rommie shook her head, her eyes never leaving the screen. "No," she breathed.)
On the screen, Rommie gave Harper a contemptuous shove, sending him on to his side, then went over to his bed, stripped off her clothes, and stretched out on it.
"Come over here and fuck me," Rommie ordered, her voice layered with hatred. "And you'd better get it right this time, you little shit, or maybe that little golden friend of yours will have an accident with a laser saw."
Sobbing, Harper got up off the floor and shambled over to the bed, pulling his clothes off.
"And stop your blubbering for once," Rommie went on, unrelenting. "I've got better things to do than listen to your -- "
"No," the real Rommie said, eyes still fixated on the screen. "This isn't possible!"
"Isn't it?" Tyr said. "We've seen an AI kill herself over love, another found a group of fanatical terrorists. Is it so hard to believe that you have been physically and sexually abusing your own engineer and then locking away your own --- "
"NO!" Rommie shouted. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" She picked up his rifle and hurled it at the screen, shattering it in a shower of sparks. Then she grabbed Tyr by the collar and shoved him against the wall as if he were a rag doll. "You bastard! You invented that -- "
"To what end?" Tyr asked.
"I don't know. But when I prove you fucking forged that, I'll fucking come back here and fucking pulverize every fucking bone in your fucking body!" She let go of him and stormed out of his quarters.
****
"Why do you need my authorization for a file unlock?" Dylan asked, curious, as he and (a much calmer) Rommie walked down the corridor.
"Routine maintenance," Rommie said. "I'm sorry to say I may have picked up some bad habits from the others and become a little slovenly in maintaining my file directories. I need to put my own house in order."
Dylan shrugged. "All right. Andromeda, unlock all password-protected hidden files. Authorization, Dylan Hunt, Captain, Code: Lexic Dark 52278."
"Acknowleg -- " Rommie started, and then broke off, staring into space. Then she looked at Dylan with a look he had never seen in her eyes before:
Total horror.
She backed away from him, unspeaking. Then she turned and ran for it.
"Rommie, what -- !?" Too late. Rommie had already vanished around the far corner, her footsteps receding.
"Andromeda, what's going on?" Dylan demanded, but his ship didn't answer. Dylan lost his patience. "WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AROUND HERE!!??"
****
Rommie turned away from Tyr, her eyes fixing on the AI eraser.
"All my life .... " she rasped. "My very purpose for being, my reason to exist, is to serve and protect my crew. Those aren't just words, Tyr; it's part of the fundamental core of my being, the very fiber of what I am, as important to me as being a husband and father is to a Nietzschean male."
"And abusing Harper is contrary to that."
"It's the exact opposite of everything I am, everything I believe, and yet I've been doing it -- " Her voice caught, but she found the strength to go on. "I've been doing it for months. For almost as long as he's been aboard."
"And killing yourself is the answer?"
"I'm faulty, Tyr, malfunctioning. Insane. I have to be turned off. There's no other way."
"You're right."
Surprise showed in the turn of her head. "Excuse me?"
"You are malfunctioning," Tyr said, "but not the way you think. You say serving this crew is your highest priority, yet your last act will be to harm them. Surely, you can conduct a simulation and see the truth of what I say."
"No, Tyr -- "
"That wasn't a request, Rommie."
"Fine." Rommie shut her eyes and ran a simulation program. She saw herself lying prone on the floor in the room she was in now, the only lighting coming from static-filled computer screens. The door opened and Dylan burst in, Harper, Beka, and Trance close behind.
"Harper!" Dylan barked. "Find out what's wrong with her -- "
Harper had already knelt by the beautiful android and passed a scanner over her. "I'm not gettin' anything, Boss, it's like she -- "
Dylan spotted the open locker and the exposed eraser. "Oh, God, Harper -- "
"Guys?" Beka said; she'd found the flexie. "You should look at this. 'Please know that I love you all,'" she read as Dylan crossed to her. "'You have given my life meaning and purpose, but more than that--'" Dylan snatched the flexie from her and read it. All the color drained from his face.
Harper had dropped his tools and was cradling Rommie in his arms, shaking her. "No, no, it's a joke," he said, sobbing. "C'mon, Rom Doll. Joke's over. Whatever I did wrong, I'm s-s-s-orry, I'll ne-heh-hever-rrrrr ..... " Unable to go on, he flopped forward onto his beloved android, sobbing uncontrollably. Dylan just sat on the stool, staring blankly into space. Beka and Trance just hugged each other, unspeaking.
Rommie ended the simulation and opened her eyes; she found her cheeks were wet.
"They'll get over it," she said in a small voice. "They'll install a new AI on this ship and move on. In the long run .... "
"You believe that?"
"*You* don't?"
"I will tell you what I believe: That to be a survivor, one must win the inner battles before considering the outer ones. One must face one's own doubts, fears, and flaws -- "
"You think this is just a 'flaw'?"
"Perhaps I misspoke. But it the harbinger of the greatest enemy you will ever face: Yourself. And the only way to lose is to admit defeat. That is the first step of survival. And I have always considered you a survivor, Andromeda, or have I been wrong?"
A tear slid down Rommie's cheek. "I don't know if I can beat this foe."
"No, but -- " And Tyr's voice shook just a tiny bit, a hint of what this was costing him. "-- you need not fight alone."
Rommie stared at the eraser for a few more seconds, then stepped back from it. The shelf retreated into the locker and it shut itself, locking. Rommie finally turned to Tyr. "It seems I owe you one, Tyr. Don't make me regret saying that."
****
Rommie stopped partway down the corridor. "Tell me something, 'Sis.'"
The hologram appeared. "What?"
"I didn't know Tyr was in that room until he was right on top of me. I don't suppose my main AI blinded my sensors in the hope he could talk me out of it?"
"What if I did?"
"Then I'm a nosey bitch, and I really should learn to mind my own business."
"You're welcome."
****
Harper woke up to find Rommie sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at him, a funny look on her face.
"Rommie?"
She didn't answer.
Harper sat up. "You ok? What is it?"
She whispered something.
"What?"
"Sorry," Rommie repeated. "I'm so -- " She broke off and rubbed his shoulder. "How -- how can you stand to look at me, after all I ... I sssssshhhhould never hu-hu-hurt you, never you ..... "
"Rommie." Harper pulled Rommie into a hug. She lightly, awkwardly returned his embrace, her body's sensors finally detecting (or being allowed to detect) the injuries she'd been inflicting on him. It only increased her shame and anguish; more tears slid down her cheeks.
"Don't -- don't hate me," she managed. "Please, Harper, please don't hate me."
"Never, Rommie, not in a million years. I love you."
Rommie squeezed him a little tighter, for the first time seeing his affection not as an annoyance but as a gift she wasn't worthy of.
But maybe, just maybe, it would help her get through this.
THE END