An Andromeda Valentine (cont.)
“Connie,” Fatima said, stopping in her tracks as she and Stark walked through the space station‘s corridor.
Stark turned to face her.
“Maybe Crohne had a point,” Fatima said.
“You think she should have been erased? Is that what you really wanted for her?”
Fatima had to wrestle with herself before replying. “I don‘t know. But something‘s .... I know my own ship, Connie. She‘s changed.”
Stark moved to an observation window, overlooking the giant, silver cruiser‘s slip. “She‘s been through hells that would have tested any one of us. Would you put a human officer -- or your own child -- to death under those circumstances?”
Fatima joined her. “Don‘t bait me, Connie. I know how hard it is. But it might be kinder in this instance.”
“I don‘t agree. These sentient ships, they are our civilization‘s progeny, our legacy if nothing else survives, and how we treat them says much about us. I would give any organic under my command a fighting chance at life, and I will give Andromeda no less.”
“But what sort of life, if she‘s been hurt as badly as Crohne says?”
“With the right captain at her helm? A legend.”
Rommie finally turned to GhostTrance, more than a little annoyed. “So this is my ‘problem‘? That I‘m ‘damaged goods‘?”
“You‘re saying the battle didn‘t affect you?” the ghost answered.
“Well, of course it did! It was hell -- thank you for putting me through it again -- but it didn‘t change how I felt about ‘love‘ or Valentine‘s Day or anything like that!”
“Oh no?”
“Which reminds me,” Fatima said as she and Stark resumed their walk down the corridor. “Rumor has it that you‘ve already picked Andromeda‘s new captain.”
“One cannot put stock in rumors,” Stark said, maintaining tight control of her reactions, “but it would be correct to say that I have a promising candidate in mind.”
“Anybody I know?”
“No, I don‘t think you‘ve met. His name is....”
Rommie found herself and GhostTrance in one of the *Andromeda‘s* briefing rooms, Dylan -- a few years younger, hair slightly longer, in the maroon uniform he’d favored -- sitting at the head of the table, her old command crew -- First Officer Gaheris Rhade, pilot Refractions of Dawn, Major Kylie Vance, among others -- sitting around it.
“I think that concludes our business for today,” Dylan said. “Dismissed.”
The officers began to get out of their chairs.
“And I will see you at the party later, of course,” Dylan added.
Confusion showed in the way his officers looked at him.
“Party?” Rhade asked.
“Yes,” Dylan said. “The Valentine‘s Day party on the observation deck. I‘d put it in the ship’s daily bulletin.”
“Where?” Gaheris said.
“I would have noticed a party,” Dawn said.
Kylie wrinkled her nose at the insectoid. “Yeah, you would!”
“The original party animal, that‘s me--”
“Yes, well,” Dylan said, looking at a flexie, “it‘s--” Dylan broke off as he scrolled down through the contents. And down. And down. And *down.*
“Right at the bottom,” Dylan deadpanned, “in the same type as the legal notice.”
“Ah,” Rhade said. “How did I miss it?”
“Twenty-hundred hours,” Dylan said, “observation deck, no one goes near the dance floor without dancing. Dismissed.”
His officers filed out.
“Andromeda?”
The hologram appeared. “Yes, Captain?”
“Would you care to explain this?”
“I did not feel the occasion warranted too prominent a placement in the bulletin.”
“Well, *make* it more prominent. And I want shipwide announcements--you *did* notify the galley of this, yes?”
“I intended to.”
“Do it now.”
“Sir. Anything else?”
Dylan let a long breath out; this new AI could be such a hassle sometimes. “No. Carry on.”
The hologram vanished; Dylan left the briefing room.
“No effect?” GhostTrance prodded as she and Rommie followed Dylan down the busy corridor.
“It only made sense,” Rommie snapped. “I‘d only just met him; I still had to get a feel for what would and would not offend my new captain.”
“Ok. So what happened after you got to know him....?”
Dylan‘s pace didn‘t slacken, but the world blurred around him, and his uniform faded from maroon to black as his High Guard crew vanished and more lines seamed their way into his face. Lines made deeper by an unfathomable loss as he marched down the empty corridor.
“Don‘t say it!” Beka Valentine snapped, sort of smiling, as she popped out of a side corridor and began walking with Dylan; from her clothes and hairstyle, Rommie surmised this was shortly after she and Dylan had been rescued from the black hole.
Dylan snapped out of his reverie. “I‘m sorry, Cap--BEKA--I--uh--Don‘t say, what?”
“’Won‘t you be my valentine‘? Love the day, hate the jokes.”
“I see. No problem.”
“A little bird tells me yer throwin‘ a little V-Day shindig on the obs deck.”
“This bird have blonde hair and a metal thing in his neck?”
“Yep,” Beka said.
“Then that bird would be right,” Dylan replied, as Android Rommie -- as she had been shortly after Harper had made her, dressed more conservatively, her hair jet black -- came out of another side corridor and joined the two captains.
“The original party animal, that‘s him,” Beka went on.
“I think someone might have had the title before him,” Dylan said.
“Uh-huh. So, ‘Rommie,’ you lookin‘ forward to the party?”
“I won‘t be attending,” Rommie‘s ‘younger‘ self said.
“I can teach you a new game, Avoid the Groping Enginuhhhhyewhat?”
“I won‘t be attending,” the newly minted avatar repeated.
That caught both captains by surprise; they all stopped in their tracks.
“Yeah, well...” Beka looked between Dylan and Rommie. “I‘ll see you guys later, then.”
After Beka had vanished down a ladder well, Dylan turned to Young Rommie. “You‘re not going?”
“I hadn't planned on it, unless attendance is mandatory.”
“It‘s not, but I thought you would take this opportunity to get to know the crew.”
“I already know them.”
Dylan frowned, puzzled. But he let it go. “Fine. Carry on.”
The went their separate ways.
The world shifted again, and Rommie found herself and GhostTrance in the *Maru‘s* cargo pod. A nearby hatch slid open and the ghost‘s ‘template,’ Trance Gemini, complete with purple skin and tail, entered. “Harper?”
“Over here, Trance!”
Trance followed the voice behind some crates, to where Harper was sitting on the deck by an open maintenance panel. “Harper, you‘ve blinded Andromeda to your presence again! When Dylan finds out--”
“Relax, my Sparky Purple Princess, it‘s only for a minute, and Rommie won‘t find anything wrong. It‘s just so she won‘t know that I‘m working on *this.*”
Trance looked into Harper‘s hands: He had paper and crayons on the floor in front of him, and he‘d drawn a heart and written in it, in rough, block letters:
Rommie-
I luv U.
Harper
Trance looked into Harper‘s eyes, a little pained. “Harper ..... look, you‘re my friend, and I don‘t want you to get hurt.....I don‘t think Rommie likes you the way you want.”
Now, Harper got the pained look, a glimpse behind the mask he affected. “I know, Trance, but at least she‘ll know, y‘know? That‘s all that matters sometimes.”
Rommie peered between her two friends at the card. “He made that for me?” She stepped back, her resolve stiffening. “I‘ve seen enough. Take me home.”
“One shadow more.”
“No--”
She found herself on the observation deck, Harper sitting on the beverage table, nursing the latest in a series of beers, an envelope on the table next to him. When Dylan walked in, the young engineer scooped up the envelope hopped off. “Hey, BAAAAAHHHHHHSSSSSS!” He seemed to be peering around Dylan. “Gahreat liddle pardy yougothere.”
“Thank you, Mr..... You looking for someone?”
“Welll.....mebbee.”
“Sorry, Mr. Harper, but Rommie‘s not coming.”
“She‘s not!?”
“No. She said she didn‘t have to.”
“Oh.”
Dylan smiled and went around Harper, who stood, slack-jawed, for a moment. Then his jaw hardened. He tore the envelope to pieces and through it down nearby waste chute and returned to his beer.
Rommie rounded on the ghost, drawing her force lance. “I‘ve seen enough. Take me home!”
GhostTrance smiled. “You think you can just order the truth away at gunpoint?”
Rommie snarled in rage as she fired; the ghost dissolved into a shower of purple and golden sparks, her laughter hanging on the air. Then all trace of her vanished.
Rommie looked around. She was still on obs deck, but no sign of her crew, the setup for a party, nothing. She‘d been left quite alone again.
****
“The time is oh-fifty-eight hours,” Andromeda‘s hologram said.
Android Rommie just grunted, sitting on the platform next to Command‘s pilot‘s station. She‘d spent the day since her encounter with .... whatever it had been .... prowling the ship in search of her crew. Nothing.
“You‘re very quiet,” the hologram said.
“What do you want me to say?”
“You could tell me why you‘re so upset; I can feel it through our telemetry link.”
“I‘M NOT DAMAGED!” Rommie shouted, getting up. “That ghost had it wrong.”
“If it was a ghost.”
“You‘ve verified everything in its account?”
“What occurred within range of my sensors at the time, yes.”
“Including the bit with the card.”
“I never saw Harper make it--”
“--Because he blinded my sensors.”
“Is that what‘s bugging you?”
Rommie began pacing back and forth. “And if I was damaged, how can anything following from it be my fault?”
“Logically, one could surmise that the fault is how one dealt with the trauma, not the trauma itself.”
Rommie glared at the holo. “Am I taking its side now!?”
“I was answering a question. Or was it purely rhet--Intruder alert!”
“At least they‘re punctual. Loc--”
“Ladies?”
Both aspects of Andromeda turned to one of the big view screens. Seamus Harper filled it, dressed in a red, velvet robe that went to his ankles, some kind of fancy shirt on underneath, hair slicked down, a “sexy-man-of-the-world” look on his face, a pipe in one hand.
“You are cordially invited to my humble abode. We, my dear ... dears .... are going to have a party.” He suavely brought the pipe to his lips and blew into it; bubbles floated out the other end.
“I was about to say, slipstream core,” the hologram said.
“I knew it!” Android Rommie ran out of command.
****
Rommie‘s anger built with every step she took as she ran through the ship. Of course Harper was behind it! How could she not have seen it? This was all some twisted plan of his to get her into bed with him. ‘Well, he‘ll be in bed,’ Rommie told herself, ‘a hospital bed when I‘m done with him!’
“Ah, Rom Doll!” the object of her fury called out as she surged into engineering, paying no attention to the hearts and streamers decorating the room. “Come in and know me bett--”
She grabbed the lapels of his robe and got right in his face: “All right, you little spaz! You have thirty seconds to undo this, or I swear your grandchildren will feel what I‘m going to do to you!”
Harper seemed plus-plus-nonplussed as he reached up and grasped Rommie‘s wrist. The next thing she knew, she was hitting a bulkhead ten meters away.
“Y‘know,” ‘Harper‘ said as he strolled over to her, “when my Sparkly Purple Past Princess told me you could be so difficult, I thought she was exaggerating. I owe her a tail rub.”
Rommie got to her feet; it hadn‘t taken her long to guess things were not as they appeared. “So, you are the second ghost?”
“The Ghost of Valentine‘s Day Present at your service,” the ... ghost said, bowing with a flourish. “And I am here to see to all your needs. *All* of them.”
“You don‘t have to imitate Harper so perfectly.”
“Sorry. Blame my older brothers; they said he was quite the character.”
“You have siblings!?”
“Oh, yeah, more than, I dunno, three, four thousand, something like that.”
“Tremendous family to provide for.”
“Hey, you were a friend of the family, once.”
“Are we going to go over that again?”
“No; I‘m the *Present,* remember?”
“Yes. So, where are we going?”
“’Going‘?”
“Yes. Where are you going to take me?”
“Nowhere, Rom D--Sorry, ROMMIE. We‘re already here.”
“What do you--?”
“Ack--Rommie!” Harper‘s voice called from behind her. “You‘re choking me.”
Rommie turned to see Harper and .... herself!? .... over by the bed. Harper -- the real Harper, she supposed --- was almost dressed in a suit, and her other self was helping with his tie. And neither seemed aware of Rommie and the ghost and the room‘s decorations.
“I am not,” the other Rommie said. “I am monitoring your vitals and your airway. You‘re fine.”
“Reminds me of those hangings I witnessed on Omicron Seven,” Harper whined. “Couldn‘t I do without the monkey suit?”
“She‘s a diplomat, Harper! While one can question her taste in contacting you, you will be presentable for your meeting with her.” She made a final adjustment to the tie. “There!”
Rommie and the ghost found themselves at the main docking airlock, watching as Dylan, Harper, and the other Rommie greeted the Commonwealth diplomats, including the beautiful Inarian ambassador who‘d, apparently, taken a shine to Harper.
“Seamus,” she purred, giving him a kiss in the cheek.
“Hey, Laryssa.” He almost floated.
She looked him over. “My, don‘t you look just scrumptious!”
“Well, you are a diplomat. I had to look my best, didn‘t I?”
“And you did it so well.”
(Both Rommies rolled their eyes at that.)
The group made more small talk as they went down the corridors, until they got the obs deck, where the other Rommie excused herself.
“You‘re not joining in?” Laryssa asked.
“No,” Rommie said. “But please, enjoy yourselves.” Rommie turned and left. Dylan smiled and shrugged. Laryssa didn‘t seem to give it another thought as she went into the huge room, on Harper‘s arm.
Then Rommie found herself and the ghost back in the slipstream core, by Harper‘s sleeping area. Harper and Laryssa had come back and were under the sheets, not exactly sleeping.
Rommie turned to the ghost. “What did I tell you before?”
“Sorry. That‘s not the important part, anyway. *This* is.”
“And you take care of this all yourself?” Rommie saw Laryssa walking around the core in her bare feet, wrapped in a sheet.
“Well....” Harper called from the bed. “Not entirely. Andromeda helps me. We make a great team.”
“Yeah, we do,” Rommie muttered.
“But under your guidance,” Laryssa said. “Your creativity, your genius, provides the plans that you and she follow.”
“Well, yeah.” Harper sat up, attentive; he smelled there was something behind this. “You goin‘ somewhere with this?”
Laryssa came back to bed and sat next to Harper. “Listen, Seamus, I‘m not here just because I like you -- and I do -- Ever since Dylan undid our .... commerce with the Pyrains--”
“You mean drug dealing.”
“Whatever you want to call it. The point is, we are in desperate need of engineers, scientists, and technologists to rebuild our industrial and scientific base. People with vision and creativity. People like you.”
“You‘re here to offer me a job!? That‘s why you....uh.....”
“Call it mixing business with pleasure; I said I like you.”
“I like you too, but ..... I dunno, this ship, this crew, it‘s like my family.”
“I know; I can see how close you all are. But the time comes when you have to leave your family and strike out on your own.”
“Do I have time to think about it?”
She snuggled with him. “All the time you need.”
“Be prepared for disappointment,” Rommie taunted.
“You think so?” GhostHarper said.
“He won‘t leave me.”
“Oh, no?”
“No. He--Is it just me, or are you getting older?”
The ghost seemed unmoved by his gray hairs. “Hey, I have ONE DAY on your plane of existence, and we’re condensing it. What do you expect? Anyway, you were saying....?”
“Yes, I was saying, Harper loves me, and I feel closer to him than to any other sentient who‘s ever been aboard. And we do make a great team.”
“You ever tell him that?”
That shook Rommie‘s confidence. “No.....but that‘s beside the point! I know my own engineer. He won‘t go with her, no matter how ..... good she is in bed.”
“If you say so.”
“You know something I don‘t?”
The ghost‘s eyes turned inward. “I see a neat, organized slipstream core, manned by military personnel, no living area, no trace of its former owner. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, Harper will not be here when my siblings come here.”
“With that hussy!? I don‘t believe it!”
“Why should he stay?”
“I look after my friends.”
“Really?”
They found themselves in the *Maru‘s* sleeping area, Trance Gemini tossing and turning on one of the bunks. Then she suddenly woke and sat up, screaming. When she realized she was awake, she fell back to the bed, sobbing.
“Listen to that,” GhostHarper said.
“What?” Rommie said.
“Your core AI calling in to reassure her. Like any friend would.”
“I don‘t hear anything.”
“Exactly.”
Rommie rounded on the ghost. “I have just about had enough of--” She broke off, looking down at his feet. “What‘s that? A claw?”
“It might be. Look here!” GhostHarper parted his robe; where his legs should have been were two.....Rommie supposed they were humanoid children dressed in rags, but there was something sick, twisted about them.
And familiar.
“Are they yours?” Rommie asked.
“They‘re yours,” the Ghost said, suddenly serious, not imitating Harper. Rommie found that very unnerving.
“They belong to all sentient beings who ignore the emotional needs of their fellows,” the ghost went on. “But they cling to me. The boy is Pain. The girl is Loneliness. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all, beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it! Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!” The ghost suddenly smiled in imitation of Rommie‘s engineer. “Oh, will you look at the time?”
The ghost and the frightful children suddenly vanished. Rommie looked around to see Trance had vanished, too. Then the airlock doors slid open. Rommie found she was trembling as a tall figure in black armor entered the compact starship. Rommie had never seen anything like this creature before; apart from the tattered cloak and spikes protruding from the helmet and different parts of the suit, it was featureless, with no indication of where it came from. It stopped in front of Rommie, the very air around it seeming to scatter gloom and misery, unseen eyes boring into her, through her.
“I guess...” Rommie managed. “I am in the presence of the Ghost of Valentine’s Day Yet to Come?”
The ghost answered not, merely raised an armored hand and pointed.
“You are about to show me shadows of things that have not happened,” Rommie went on, “but will happen in the time before us. Is that so?”
The armored figure nodded once.
“I....I fear you, Spirit, more than any specter I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, I am prepared to bear your company. Will you not speak to me?”
No response at all this time -- it simply continued to point the way.
Rommie nodded. “Lead on,” she said. “The night is waning fast, and time is precious to me.”
The silent giant started down the passageway. Rommie followed, and the world shifted around them. They found themselves in the *Andromeda‘s* obs deck, another Valentine‘s Day party in full swing. She saw Dylan, Beka, and Trance mingling with a large number of humans in black uniforms. Dylan and Beka turned as another uniformed man, balding with dark hair, raced into the room, out of breath.
“Ah, Mr. Kemp,” Dylan said; he didn‘t sound happy. “I see you like engineering so much you couldn‘t tear yourself away.”
“Dedication is required in a chief engineer,” Beka said sternly. “But punctuality, too.”
“I‘m sorry, Captains,” Kemp panted. “Won‘t happen again.”
Dylan smiled and clapped the man on the shoulder; Beka also broke into a grin.
“Relax,” Dylan said. “It‘s a party. Enjoy yourself. That‘s an order.”
Kemp smiled and nodded, a bit grateful, and made for the beverage table. At which time certain bits of the exchange came together in Rommie‘s mind.
“Chief Engineer....” Rommie said, backing out of the room. “But....where‘s Harper?” She looked up at the ghost. “He left--?”
The world blurred around her again, settling on the edge of a huge blast crater. It must have been kilometers wide. From the ruined, burned forest behind her, Rommie guessed she was on a Tarn Vedra class world, but had no idea which one.
A man came up to the edge of the crater and stood next to her, looking over it. He was tall, muscular, more so than an average human, and dark-skinned with penetrating brown eyes. Although bald, he had a goatee. But Rommie recognized him at once.
“Tyr!?” Rommie said. “But where--?”
“Tyr!” a voice crackled from a communicator woven into his flack jacket. It wasn‘t Dylan‘s. “It‘s time.”
“On my way.” Tyr spent a few more moments looking out over the crater, turned, and headed back the way he’d come.
The world blurred again, a surge of motion, stopping this time in a Sinti MagLev station. A train pulled in; when it had stopped and the passengers began to disembark, the ghost pointed to one particular trio of Perseids. Rommie drew closer to them.
“....don‘t know all the details,” one was saying, sounding more curious than anything else, “just that the ship was lost with all hands.”
“But the battle was won?” another asked, just as emotionally detached as the first.
“Of course,” the first replied. “We‘d have been eaten by now, wouldn‘t we?”
“True.”
“I suppose the government will make a tremendous fuss over this,” the third said, sounding bored, “honoring a brave sacrifice and all that. Media spectacle, of course. Still, given that we do work for the ministry, I suppose we could form a party?”
“I detest formal attire,” the second sniffed, “and I don‘t much like being photographed. However, I will go if lunch is provided.”
“I don‘t eat lunch,” the first one said, “but I believe the idea deserves consideration. Let‘s stay abreast of events and see what arrangements can be made, shall we?”
The other two nodded in agreement, but Rommie had a hunch they weren‘t going anywhere.
“Good day, then,” the first said. The other two muttered pleasantries, and the three Perseids went their separate ways.
“They were talking about a High Guard ship,” Rommie said. “That crater you showed me must have been where it--”
The world blurred around Rommie again, depositing her in what looked like a huge hangar typically found aboard drifts; this was one was littered with flotsam, jetsam, machinery, and bits of charred hull plating, although some patches of silver could still be seen on it. A hatch opened, admitting a man and a woman, both looking middle-aged, their best years behind them.
The man surveyed the hangar and frowned. “This is all you could get, then?” he asked.
“Well, there wasn‘t a lot of debris left in space, Joe,” the woman said. “The bulk of the ship was vaporized on impact, wasn‘t it? And the High and Mighty Guard was keen to grab the best bits for itself.”
“What--You mean--? Captain Dilber, are you telling me you salvaged these parts while the High Guard was securing the area?”
“Well, what were they going to do with them? Not turn a profit, that‘s for sure. And *she* wouldn‘t be needing this stuff anymore, either, the Silver Strumpet.”
“Hmmm.”
Dilber followed Joe as he wandered through the wreckage, making notes on a flexie in his hands. When he‘d seen all of it, he stopped, muttered under his breath as he punched more figures into the flexie, and showed it to the salvager. “There you are, Captain. And not a Throne more if I were to be spaced for it!”
“Oooh.... you drive a hard bargain, Joe.”
“Please. I‘m always generous with the ladies; that‘s how I ruined m’self!”
Rommie turned to the ghost. If she‘d had blood, it would have been boiling.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “A High Guard ship and crew is lost defending the Commonwealth, and the only responses are indifference and avarice? There must be someone who cared about that crew, who has some genuine feeling for the ones who were lost. Show me some tenderness, some depth of feeling!”
The world shifted again, bringing Rommie to a dimly lit if well appointed study, its walls lined with shelves containing everything from books to data crystals. A man sat at an expensive looking desk at one end, an almost-empty glass in one hand. Thin faced and slightly built, the man‘s blonde hair had flecks of gray in it, and lines had cut into the youthful face, but the living embodiment of the *Andromeda Ascendant* still recognized him.
“Harper,” Rommie breathed.
“Harper?” a female voice -- probably an AI‘s -- said. “I have Professor Logich for you.”
“Thanks, Athena. Why don‘t you go offline for a while?”
“Seamus--”
“Go on.”
“All right. Good night, Seamus.”
A hologram flashed into existence on the other side of the desk from Harper. Though his hair was now completely white, Rommie recognized the scientist who had once tortured Trance.
“Seamus,” Logich said. “What can I do for our star technologist?”
“I wanna talk about that,” Harper said, getting up and walking around the desk. “You guys fed me this whole song and dance about how you needed me. But how much work have I done since I got here? NONE! Geez, I don’t think I been in a machine shop in so long, I don’t remember what it was like. You got me givin’ speeches, attending conferences, and what do I get out of it!?”
“Apart from venues for practicing correct grammar?”
“Was that a joke? Sorry, I left my funny bone at the last embassy ball. Now what’s the story?”
“You’re a bright boy, Seamus. Can’t you figure it out?”
Rommie already had; she hoped she was wrong.
“You told me you needed people like me,” Harper said.
“Yes,” Logich replied. “But it‘s difficult to attract such talent when you‘re chiefly known for selling fertilizer to Pyrian drug addicts. However, with the former chief engineer of the *Andromeda Ascendant* on the board, we look more respectable in the eyes of the kind of people we want to attract.”
“Wait a--what the--You tellin‘ me all these years I been some kinda storefront andro-mannequin!?”
“Did you really need me to tell you that?”
“I was never gonna do any work for ya, was I? *Real* work I mean.”
Logich smiled slightly. “Seamus, you are a brilliant technician, and I have the deepest respect for your accomplishments during your time aboard the *Andromeda.* But forgetting your lack of discipline and .... disregard for established procedures, the fact is the cutting edge has advanced so far in recent years that any ideas you may have had were old hat months ago.” Logich smiled broadly. “But don‘t despair! You have it made. The years of struggle and sacrifice are over; you‘re set for life as long as you don‘t upset the cally melon cart. Am I clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Fine. Be seeing you.” Logich vanished. Harper walked around to the other side of his desk and sank into his chair.
“Harper....” Rommie said. “I am so sorr--” She broke off as Harper removed a small pistol from his desk drawer. “Wait .... what are you--”
Harper brought the gun to his head.
“NO!” Rommie shouted. “Harper --- SEAMUS -- You still have years ahead of you--You don‘t need Inaris--!!”
Harper squeezed the trigger.
There was a sound of thunder.
“HARPER--!!”
Rommie found herself and the ghost in a cemetery. A man and a woman walked over to a small, nondescript gravestone near her. The man wore a High Guard uniform; Rommie recognized him as Ryan, the *Wrath of Achilles‘* AI. The woman in the simple black outfit must have been the AI Harper had addressed earlier.
“Of all the users I have had, none was kinder,” the woman said. “Even his inappropriate behavior made it feel as if he and I were the same species.”
“He was unique, Athena,” Ryan said. “Unlike any I met before or since.”
Athena stepped back a few paces. Ryan snapped to attention and saluted. He held it for exactly five seconds, then both androids turned and left as a gentle rain began to fall.
Rommie walked over to the simple grave. It was devoid of the decorations and plants seen around the others.
“Don‘t any organics come to visit you?” she asked.
Silence.
Rommie closed her eyes, barely holding in the emotions storming inside her. “And you‘re saying this is my fault?” she asked the spirit.
Silence again.
“Of course it is.” Rommie opened her eyes. “Specter, something informs me that our parting moment is at hand. I need to know, which High Guard ship was lost on that planet?”
The world blurred again, leaving Rommie and the ghost in the center of the crater they‘d seen earlier, storm clouds boiling in the sky as the ghost pointed to a point at their feet.
“All right, I‘ll look,” Rommie said, “but I need to know something first: Are these the shadows of things that Will be, or the shadows of things that May be, only?”
The ghost didn‘t answer.
“I‘ve seen empirical evidence that timelines can be changed,” Rommie said. “Our courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead. But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me.”
Unanswering, unmoving, the ghost continued to point.
“All right; have it your way.” Rommie looked down. The small plaque in the ground was maybe thirty centimeters on each side, dented, scratched, and weathered. But she could read:
IMPACT SITE OF THE ANDROMEDA ASCENDANT
She couldn‘t make out the date.
“No!” Rommie‘s head snapped back to the ghost. “It can‘t come to this.”
The spirit only stared back, silent, unmoved.
“I am not the person I was,” Rommie went on. “I will not be the person I must have been but for you and your brethren. Why show me this if I am past all hope?” She grabbed at the chain holding its cloak around the ghost‘s neck. “Assure me that I may yet change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life. Dammit, tell me!”
The ghost suddenly twisted, folded, and collapsed, and Rommie found herself gripping the railing on the flight control station in the *Andromeda‘s* command deck.
“Where did you go?” Rommie shouted. “Spirit!”
The hologram appeared next to her. “What are you talking about?”
Rommie shuffled back from the console, a little disoriented. “I ..... I don‘t seem to know what‘s going on.”
“Detecting errors in IS network,” the hologram said. “Synchronizing avatar clock with master system clock; synchronizing memory--” The hologram broke off, her eyes wide. “Holy crap!”
Rommie found herself smiling. “It‘s Valentine‘s Day!? I haven‘t missed it? The spirits have done it all in one night!”
“Running diagnostic on avatar systems .... no errors found.....”
“But they can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they--”
The big doors slid open, and Tyr Anasazi entered Command.
Rommie was actually glad to see him.
“TYR!” Rommie shouted, coming up the ramp, a big smile on her face. “You‘re still in my crew! And you‘re not bald!”
“No,” Tyr said, mildly puzzled by the android‘s emotional outburst, “though I imagine if I had not been discharged from Medical when I was, Trance might have decided to--”
Rommie leapt up on Tyr and planted a noisy kiss in his cheek: “Mmmmmmmm-MWAH!” Then she dropped to the deck and ran out the door.
Tyr seemed to be having a little trouble remembering what part of the Known Universe he was in.
“Ship?”
“Yes, Tyr?” the hologram answered.
“A rational explanation for this turn of events would be very much appreciated at this juncture.”
“Mmmm ... Can I get back to you on that?”
“At your convenience.”
****
“Will you slow down?” the ship‘s voice admonished as Android Rommie cart wheeled down the corridors at 160 kilometers per hour. “Just .... please .... STOP!”
“I can‘t slow down,” Rommie said. “I don‘t want to stop! I‘m as light as a feather. I‘m as happy as an angel.” Still, she stopped cart wheeling and leaned on a ladder. “I‘m as merry as a schoolgirl. I‘m as giddy as a drunken lancer on leave--”
“And about as coherent. All right, you leave me no choice. A-teeennn-SHUN!”
Rommie snapped to attention, wiping the smile off her face. The hologram appeared in front of her, looking none too pleased. Although Rommie had no choice but to obey direct orders from the *Andromeda‘s* core AI, the mighty starship had rarely lorded over her avatar, even prided herself on giving the android a ‘long leash‘ (and if asked would have cited the blue hair as proof); she did not enjoy having to ‘pull rank‘ on her android self.
“Stand at ease,” the hologram said.
Rommie obeyed.
“This experience you recall having,” the hologram said sternly, “it‘s far too Dickensian for my taste, suspiciously so; many of the exchanges you had came right out of *A Christmas Carol.* We should strongly consider the possibility that we have been hacked by person or persons unknown.”
“Yes, you‘re right,” Rommie said. “That would be a major security breach; I can‘t ignore the possibility.” But the grin spread over her face again. “But you know what?” she said, barely holding in a laugh. “I don‘t care!” She leapt through the hologram and started cart wheeling again.
HoloRommie smiled slightly in spite of herself. “Yeah, I think we might be able to table this one for a while.”
****
“Ack--Rommie!” Harper protested as Rommie adjusted his tie. “You‘re choking me.”
“I am not,” Rommie said. “I am monitoring your vitals and your airway. You‘re--” Rommie suddenly hesitated. “--fine.” She turned her head and looked at an empty corner of the slipstream core.
Harper followed her gaze, his eyes flicking back to the beautiful android. “You ok there, Rom Doll?”
“I‘m fine, Harper.” Rommie turned her attention back to her engineer. “Anyway, I don‘t care if this reminds you of the hangings you saw on Omicron Seven. Laryssa is a diplomat, and you will be presentable for your meeting with--”
“Wait a sec--How‘d you know about Omicron?”
“Aahh--” Rommie quickly opened a priority channel to the Core AI and sent a message in less than a microsecond: --HHHHAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!
A few more microseconds dragged by while the main AI poked around the *Maru‘s* logs before reporting back: --I can‘t find a reference to the Omicron hangings in the *Maru‘s* database.
--Not even in the encrypted parts? You’re sure?
--Please -- have I forgot who I‘m talking to? In any case, it looks like .... you .... will have to wing it. Sorry.
--No problem.
“--you mentioned it a while ago,” Rommie said; the interval during which she‘d communed with her sister self had been too short for Harper to notice.
“I did?”
“You must have. How else would I know about it?” She made a final adjustment. “There. Let‘s see.” She took a step back. “Well, one can only do so much.”
“Hey, can‘t improve perfection.”
“Your ego could use some work --- although your cockiness isn‘t entirely undeserved.” If Rommie breathed, she would have taken a deep breath. “I can think of maybe two, maybe three High Guard engineers from the old days who could have accomplished half of what you‘ve done in the past three years. You deserve some bragging rights on that.”
“Well...” A little of Harper‘s mask dropped. “I can‘t take all the credit, Rommie. You -- all of you -- has helped a great deal.”
“We make a good team, probably the best AI/engineer combination on record. And...” Her voice caught the tiniest bit. “...I don‘t know what I would have done without you.”
“Yeah, uh....” Harper squirmed, a little uncomfortable with the ‘touchy feely‘ stuff. “I guess I like the little niche I got for myself here. Even if I don‘t have *everything* I want.”
“How does that old song go? ‘Two out of three ain‘t bad‘?”
“Yeah. I guess so.” Harper cleared his throat. “You *sure* you ok, Rommie? I could just run a quick diag--”
“No, Harper, thank you, but I‘m fine. In fact, I can honestly tell you I feel better than I have in years. Shall we...?”
****
Rommie escorted Harper to the main docking airlock, where they met Dylan and greeted the Commonwealth dignitaries. Harper‘s meeting with Laryssa went just as Rommie had seen it with the Ghost of Valentine‘s Day Present; she even rolled her eyes at just the right moment.
Rommie followed the small talk as the little group headed for the obs deck, and at the right moment ....
“Ambassador,” Rommie said, “I understand Inaris is looking for scientists, technologists, and engineers to rebuild its scientific and industrial base.”
“Why yes,” Laryssa said, smiling, “that‘s correct. We need people with creativity and vision, like Seamus here.”
“Like me!?” Harper yelped. “There can‘t be anybody like me.”
“Well, not exactly like you,” Laryssa said, “but there are some runner‘s up out there.”
“Wow....” Harper said. “That might be cool. I mean, go from keepin‘ a starship two steps ahead of falling apart to rebuilding a planet.”
“If they let you,” Rommie put in.
“Whaddya mean, Rom Doll?”
“Well, Inaris, I understand, also wants one or two ‘big names‘ they can just stick on their boards to attract more talent. Those individuals would never do ‘real work,’ just attract the people meant to.”
Harper made a face. “Jeez! I‘d hate to be the guy they picked for that.”
Laryssa‘s smile never wavered, but Rommie could sense something in her attitude had changed. “Well, Harper, I don‘t think you‘ll have to worry about that.”
“I don‘t think so either,” Rommie said, as the group entered obs. She started to take a few steps into the room and --
“Rommie?” Dylan said, surprised. “You‘re --- I mean, I thought you had other business to attend to?”
“It can wait, unless you think I should leave.”
“Uh ... no, Rommie, it‘s fine, enjoy yourself.”
Rommie mingled with the growing crowd, hobnobbing with diplomats, pilots, and one or two AIs from the fleet. Not quite as lively Fatima‘s parties had been, but she still found herself enjoying herself, for the first time in .... she honestly didn‘t know when.
Then she spotted Harper all by himself at the beverage table and sidled over to him. “Where‘s your friend?”
“Ah, she went off with Zhukov. Again.” He sighed.
“You could get out on the dance floor.”
“They‘re playin‘ a waltz.”
“So?”
“I don‘t waltz.”
“Don‘t like it?”
“Don‘t know how.”
“Ah! Well, it‘s time you learned.” She grabbed Harper‘s wrist and lead him to the dance floor. “Dylan! Beka! I could use some help here.....”
Rommie paired herself with Dylan and Beka with Harper.
“All right, gentlemen,” Rommie said, “now put your right feet forward.”
Both Harper and Dylan moved their right feet to the *side.*
Andromeda‘s hologram appeared next to the group. “They‘re not Perseids; there‘s hope.” She vanished.
Rommie‘s human friends didn‘t entirely succeed in concealing their concern that the beautiful android had gone stark raving bonkers.
“God bless us everyone,” Harper said a little warily.
****
The small room by the main docking airlock hadn‘t had visitors in two years, but Andromeda still kept it in good order. Dubbed the “treasure chest,” by Harper, its shelves were lined with trophies, and one wall was devoted to crew photos. Rommie stood before the wall, holding a new addition to it in her hands, a photo of a teenaged Fatima Navaro.
“I never told you how much you meant to me,” Rommie told the photo. “Or how much I valued what you tried to teach me. And maybe, I forgot. But if you have some kind of existence beyond your physical body, you should know all that changes as of right now. I will live in the Past, Present, and the Future. The spirits of all three will strive within me. I will not shut out their lessons .... or yours.”
She put the photo in the space she‘d prepared for it, stepped back a few paces, and saluted.
A 19-year-old Fatima Navaro, her hair, like Rommie‘s, a mop of gleaming blue strands, smiled back from across the room, across the years.
Rommie lowered her arm, did a smart about-face, and left the room.
****
Trance tossed and turned on the bunk in the *Maru‘s* sleeping area, and suddenly -- exactly as Rommie had seen with the Ghost of Valentine‘s Day Present -- woke and sat up, screaming. When she realized where she was, she fell back onto the bed, sobbing.
“Trance?” Rommie said, coming ‘round the corner, feigning surprise as best she could. “Are you ok?”
“What--? Oh--” Trance sat up, wiping tears from her face. “I‘m fine, Rommie,” she said with a smile. “Really.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Rommie sensed she would not get more out of Trance (as always) and let it go. “Ok.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Actually .... there may be something I can do for you.”
“Oh?”
“I was thinking about your suggestion yesterday.”
“And....?”
****
"You guys, I almost shot you!" Beka Valentine snapped at Trance and Rommie, leaning against the doorframe of Trance's cubbyhole on the *Eureka Maru.* She lowered her pistol. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, it's pretty simple, Beka," Rommie said. "I don't sleep."
"And I don't sleep ..... much," Trance added.
"And we thought we should be able to have a place to .... 'hang out,'" Rommie finished.
"What for?" Beka asked.
"Just because," Rommie said. "I turn off most of my sensors, let the AI do all the work, and .... I mean, hey, even non-organics like to have friends."
THE END
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