TITLE: Beautiful Music Together
AUTHOR: Michael J. Gallagher ( mikejoe@odyssey.net )
RATING: G
SYNOPSIS: Tag for "Bunker Hill:" Rommie has a chat with Harper
DISCLAIMER: GRA is owned by Tribune. I am just having fun; please don't sue me.
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"So you're telling me it was all worth it?" Harper said. "Even if my cousin's dead?"
"Either way, he won," Dylan said. "And so did you."
The *Andromeda's* captain clasped Harper's shoulder; Harper turned and leaned on the railing, looking out the observation deck's huge window, as Dylan turned to leave. He heard his captain's footsteps retreat, hesitate, and then recede out of the room.
Harper kept twirling the tin whistle in his hands. When his parents had died protecting him from the Nietzschean slavers, he'd thrown it on his parents' graves. His cousin Brendan had recovered it and saved it all these years. All Harper wanted to do now was flush it out an airlock.
A crackle behind him announced the formation of one of Andromeda's holograms. "So, are you going to play that thing or what?"
Harper turned to face her. "What?"
"Your whistle. My scans show it's in excellent condition; your cousin did a fine job of maintaining it. So are you going to give it a whirl?"
"Oh, and you don't do 'stupid kid stuff' anymore. Like build robots and androids, make gadgets, hack computer networks, live in a machine shop surrounded by your inventions .... "
"Rommie -- "
"Y'know, I never thought I was fulfilling your *childhood* fantasies."
"I should get rid of this thing right now, yeah, that's what I'll do."
He stomped towards the door.
It slid shut in front of him.
Harper turned around. "Rommmmmmeeeeeeeee .... "
The hologram vanished and reappeared a meter and a half from him. "Harper, before we get into another argument, let me remind you that in returning that whistle to you, Brendan did for you what no one -- not even you -- has done, or could ever do, for me."
"And what would that be?"
"Give you back a part of your past." An unusual pained looked crossed the image's face. "You, at least, have that whistle. But I don't have anything of what I once knew, just my crew. Aside from Dylan, everything ..... everyone else .... is gone."
Harper felt uncomfortable. "I'm sorry; I forget sometimes."
"You're only human."
"Gee. Thanks."
"You're welcome. So, are you going to play that thing, or what?"
"Wellll ..... " Harper crossed to one of the benches and sat down on one end. The hologram vanished, and another image, this one sitting cross-legged, appeared next to him.
"This is probably going to stink like Magog breath," Harper said.
"Rev's breath isn't that bad."
"Uh-huh." Harper put his fingers over the holes and blew into the whistle; oddly enough, it still made notes, and he still remembered which hole was which and could make a tune with it. Making a tune that was remotely on key, though .....
"I'm no good at this," he said.
"Nah, just out of practice. Keep trying. It's not a bad way to kill time."
"'Kill time'? Until what?"
"Until I've finished evaluating the specs for a new generation of High-Guard-tech-based shrillers. It'll be another twenty minutes before I'm prepared to submit the design requirements for your evaluation."
"Shrillers. You want to make shrillers?"
"What can I say? There's something about irritating Dragon ears that appeals to me."
"Rommie," Harper said with a smile, "this looks like the start of a beautiful friendship."
She smiled back. "You've realized that only now? After almost eighteen months? Some super genius you turned out to be."
"Puh-leazze! Do not interrupt the arr-teeste during his recital."
And Harper started playing. And Rommie couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed something as much as listening to that odd, off-key tune.