TITLE: Love Stinks
AUTHOR: Michael J. Gallagher ( mikejoe@odyssey.net )
SYNOPSIS: Harper and Rommie muse about the one area where they don't have a lot of success.
GRA is owned by Tribune; I am just being silly, again.
===========================
"Can you believe that guy?" Harper had slunk to the back of the reception on the Observation Deck for the Kepler's World officials who had come aboard to sign Dylan's Commonwealth Charter. Not surprisingly, the tall, leggy, unspeakably hot foreign minister had caught his eye, and Harper had made a point of letting her know he was available to tend to *all* her needs. And just as not surprisingly, she had seemed more interested in talking to Dylan.
"I mean, how does he do it?" Harper went on. "The man must have been born a babe magnet. As soon as they come aboard, they glom right to him."
"And he does nothing to discourage it," said a very familiar woman's voice next to him. "Doesn't he appreciate what he can have right here? Or do you have to be at eye level for him to notice? It can't all be 'High Guard Protocols'!"
Harper and Rommie looked at each other, then fidgeted a little, embarrassed about voicing their own complaints about their commander. But the crowd of dignitaries hob-nobbing around them meant they couldn't escape.
And Harper was worried about what he'd said getting back to Dylan ....
"Not that I'm complaining, mind," Harper said. "I mean, I really like him. He's extremely cool. I mean, he could be shot, stabbed, poisoned, have a broken arm, a broken leg, and one eye swollen shut, and take one look at a tactical graphic with umpteen bizillion Magog swarm ships closing on us and say 'I have a plan.'"
"Yes, he is like that. And not just against ten thousand Nietzschean ships but a variety of dangerous situations before *and* after the Fall."
"How does he do it?" Harper asked.
"I'm sure his training and battlefield experience form the database he draws on," Rommie said. "But as to *exactly* how his thought processes work .... I don't know, would the brooding be a factor?"
"You mean, like, he goes off and beats himself up over whether we're doing the right thing or whether he's good enough while the rest of his brain formulates a plan?"
"Yes, that's what I mean."
"I suppose. But it is still cool."
"Yes, 'cool.'"
"But still, the guy's a hunk, and that draws the babes. What chance have I against that?"
"Don't sell yourself short, Harper. Yes, you are a pain in the butt, but you're not unattractive and you can be very sweet when you let yourself. It's not unlikely some female, somewhere, will find you attractive."
"Oh, yeah? I don't notice you sneaking longing glances at me the way you do at Dylan."
"They are not longing. At least not as 'longing' as the ones you sneak at *me.*"
"How did you -- ?"
"Avatar of omniscient ship's A. I., remember?"
"Oh, yeah. Still, I mean, c'mon, if Satrina had not wanted to seduce me to the Dark Side, would she have been interested? At least you've got looks on your side."
"Yeah, and Gabriel really loved me. But still, his primary reason for being here was to betray me. And I had to kill him for it. And believe me, it still hurts."
They looked out the windows and sighed.
"Is love worth it, Harper?" Rommie asked. "I mean, I know humans seem to think so given the amount of literature you've written celebrating it. Still, so far I've seen only the costs and none of the benefits."
"Could be just the situation we're in, Rommie. I mean, if we were just runnin' cargo, who'd care? But with our 'mission' and enemies like the Drago-Kazov and Ol' Red Eyes, we kind of are flying around with targets on your aft decks. No offense."
"None taken; I see your point. Still .... "
"Still."
"Well," Rommie said with a smile, "for what's it's worth, I hope you do attract a female at some point, Harper. I think you deserve it."
"Yeah," Harper said, "and I hope you get your very own hunky -- HEY! That's it. I'll put and ad in the Galactic personals: 'Single, devastatingly attractive and brilliant male human engineer and incredibly sexy android goddess seek attractive, sexy human babe with hunky male android companion. Will double date.'"
Rommie laughed a little. "Hey, why not? Who knows, it could -- "
Something rustled the trees planted next to them; Harper and Rommie turned to see Dylan coming through them. The leggy foreign minister was nowhere to be seen.
"Am I interrupting?" Dylan asked, sounding a bit nervous. "If I am, I can just -- "
"No, Rom Doll and I were just shooting the breeze," Harper said. "No problem. So, um, so where is the ba ... the foreign minister?"
"Yes, you two seemed to be getting on rather well," Rommie said.
"Don't remind me," Dylan lamented. "She's invited me to go planetside with her when she leaves in a few minutes, and I have the impression she wants to continue our discussions in her bedroom."
"I see," Rommie said.
"I mean, the woman is attractive and intelligent," Dylan went on. "And she's from one of KW's wealthiest families. I'm sure under different circumstances I'd enjoy visiting her villa."
"Wow, beauty, brains and money," Harper said. "Not a bad mix."
"I should say," Rommie added.
"Yeah, but I know the type!" Dylan said. "'Predatory' would be an understatement. The whole bird in a gilded cage thing, sorry, not for me. So I'm perfectly happy to stay out of sight and out of mind until well *after* the minister has left."
Harper and Rommie looked at Dylan.
Harper and Rommie looked at each other.
Harper and Rommie *smiled* at each other.
Across the room, one of the *Andromeda's* gray, faceless robot bodies caught the tall, leggy foreign minister's arm and spoke in her ear, pointing in Harper and Rommie's general direction. She began to sweep across the room.
Rommie nodded to Harper, and they smiled at Dylan.
Dylan did not like those smiles. "Um, you're both .... why are you, um .... "
At which point the leggy foreign minister appeared behind Harper and Rommie. Dylan froze, his brain confused as it tried to decide whether to panic, turn homicidal, or some combination of the two.
"Mr. Harper?" the minister said. "Your ship's computer said you wanted to -- " Then she saw Dylan. "DYLAN! There you are. I've been looking all over for you. What are you doing here?"
"Just getting some space, Minister -- " Dylan started.
"Jeryll, Dylan, please."
"-- Jeryll, yes -- thinking about things. You know. Life." His eyes flicked to Harper and Rommie. "DEATH. The universe. Everything."
Jeryll hooked her arm around Dylan's and began to lead him away. "Well, you can tell me all about your musings in my shuttle ... "
"No, min -- Jeryll -- I really think, maybe I should stay. Very big ship, very small crew, everyone's kind of indispensable. ISN'T THAT RIGHT, MR. HARPER?"
Somehow, Harper kept a straight face. "Yeah, Boss, but if things stay as slow as they've been lately, I think we can manage without ya for a couple of days."
"And Captain Hunt really has been very stressed lately," Rommie said to Jeryll, piling a metric ton of innuendo into every word. "Anything you can do to .... relieve his tensions .... It would be of great service to us."
"Oh." Jeryll smiled knowingly, again pulling Dylan along by the arm. "Well, don't you worry, Andromeda. When your captain comes home --- assuming I can bear to part with him -- he will be all rested."
"Yes, and I hope to address NEW ISSUES with my CREW when I get back," Dylan called out before disappearing out the door.
Harper and Rommie were still laughing when Beka and Tyr came over to them later.
Tyr, genetically enhanced brain and all, put two and two together fastest. "Would your behavior at this juncture explain why our commander asked me about my rates for contract hits before he and the minister boarded her shuttle?"
Neither Harper nor Rommie could speak -- they both laughed harder, actually -- but they managed to shrug and tried to look innocent.
"Ok, I'm going to look up Rev," Beka said. "Because when *those* two start laughing together, it really must be a sign of the Apocalypse."
THE END
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