Title: Tears for Victoria
AUTHOR: Michael J. Gallagher ( mikejoe@odyssey.net )
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Rommie & Co. I'm just having .... fun.
SYNOPSIS/ COMMENT: This is my answer to a "5 minute" fic challenge -- what were Tyr's last words to his mother? It may not directly answer the question, but it's another one of those ideas I've had for weeks, sooooo .....
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One of the best days in the _Andromeda's_ existence threatened to become one of the worst in milliseconds.
Ever since being rescued from the black hole, it wasn't unusual for almost all of Andromeda's little crew to be off someplace. In this instance, Tyr and Harper were left to "mind the store" while the rest went to Osiris 4 to negotiate its entry into the Renewed Commonwealth. (Apparently, the _Andromeda Ascendant's_ silhouette resembled a religious gliph and there were objections to its presence in orbit on that basis. Beyond that, Rommie was lost.)
The day began, as always, with Tyr running the decks before working out in hydroponics while Harper, protesting as always, rose early, had beakfast, and began to tackle the day's repairs. Andromeda left Tyr to his own devices and focused her attention on her scruffy little engineer. The day was going quite well, as far as she was concerned. Harper had kept his sexual overtures to a minimum and was ahead of schedule on the repairs. In fact -- although Rommie would never admit this -- it was one of those times when Harper felt like a part of her, like one of her own systems or her own right hand, and she liked these times best. So she ignored the anomalous bioscan readings; his system had never been robust. And she attributed his bouts of fatigue and paler than normal complexion to a hangover. Until ....
"Ah -- Dammit!" Harper doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach, falling to the floor of the conduit. "C'mon guys -- give your dad a break!"
"HARPER!!" For the first in memory, the ship's voice sounded alarmed. "Medical emergency! Tyr, report to infrimary!"
By the time Tyr got to med deck, Harper was laid out on an exam table, Rommie, the ship's beautiful android avatar, hovering over him.
"Chemical treatments 0% effective," the ship's voice was saying. "G3 gestation phase confirmed ... "
"No, don't say it," Rommie begged, speaking in the same voice as the ship.
" ... Magog protocols in effect," the ship finished.
Tyr knew what they were. "You are certain?" he asked Rommie.
"Yes," she answered. "High Guard standing orders. Even Dylan can't override them."
"Someone wanna let me in?" Harper asked.
"In the event of confirmed Magog infection to the point where hatching is imminent," Rommie said hoarsely, not looking at her engineer, "to prevent further contamination, the subject must be euthanized."
"Ah," Harper said. "Will it hurt?"
"No," Rommie said. "Two injections -- a tranquilizer to knock you out, and another to stop your heart. Should be just like going to sleep." She turned to Harper, stroking his hair with one hand and holding his hand in another while her robot bodies began to prepare the shots. "Seamus, I am so sorry." She was on the brink of tears. "We promised we'd fix each other, and I've failed you."
"Hey, it's -- ow! -- ok -- "
Rommie didn't seem to have heard him. "You've done so much for me, more than any one person, ever, and this is your reward. I can't even give you the kind of loving you want. You deserve better than this. You deserve better than me -- "
"Stop it -- ARRGH!" Harper cried. "Little buggers. Rommie, you and Dylan are the best, but you beat yourselves up over things you can't do anything about. Don't, not for me. Finish what you started, babe. Build the Commonwealth. And then make the Magog's boss choke on it!"
Tyr finally turned to Harper. "You will be remembered, boy. The name of Seamus Harper will become part of the Kodiak lineage."
"Tyr, you know something?" Harper said. "For a Neitzschean, you are the coolest guy in the Universe. It's been fun, bro'."
The inections were ready, on a gurney by Harper's bedside. Rommie kept a straight face, somehow, as she rubbed Harper's arm with alcohol and brought the first needle towards his skin ... and froze. Her hand shook. Tyr had the impression of a titanic struggle being waged in the AI's consciousness.
"No. I can't do this." Rommie slammed the needle back down on the tray.
"Cryopod systems powering up," the ship's voice said.
"Cryopod?" Harper yelped.
"Tyr, help me with him," Rommie said, getting one of Harper's arms over her shoulder. She and Tyr dragged Harper into the cryobay, where a waiting pod swung open.
"Wait a minute!" Harper protested. "I don't wanna be a popsicle. Rommie, I want that needle. I want -- "
"Harper!" Rommie looked into his eyes. She softened her voice. "Harper, what's my life expectancy?"
"Five hundred years, give or take."
"What if I kill you today and we find a cure tomorrow? I'll spend the next five hundred years thinking I could have saved you. I don't want to live with that. Please don't make me. Please, Harper!"
Harper couldn't refuse those big brown eyes. "Ok, chill me off."
They helped Harper into the pod and the lid closed.
"Cryo systems engaged," the ship said. " .... Subject Seamus Harper now in cryogenic suspension."
*********************
Dylan looked at Harper's face through the pod window before turning to Rommie. "Offically, your violation of the Magog protocols is a gross violation of regulations. You will note it on your service record."
"Yes, sir," Rommie said.
"Unofficially, I'd've slam dunked him in there on the first sign of trouble. You did the right thing."
"Did she?" Beka said. "We weren't getting anywhere fast looking for a cure, and Harper doesn't want to live if the eggs can't be removed. Maybe it would be kinder to -- "
"No!" Tyr protested. "I am with the ship on this. There must be a cure out there, somewhere. _Someone_ must know of one. I have never surrendered before. I will not surrender in this."
"Tyr, I didn't know you ... " Beka didn't finish the taunt; this was no time for teasing. She and Dylan left.
"Why?" Rommie asked.
"Why what?" Tyr answered.
"I've never known an optimistic Neitzschean, and I've known 2,347 of your people in my lifetime. They all would have given Harper the injection. Why not you?"
Tyr hesitated, but he supposed she deserved an explanation.
"When the Drago Kazov pride attacked our fasthold," Tyr said, "when they broke through our defense perimiter, my mother, my brother Alex, and I fled to an escape vehicle by the Southern Ramparts. We were almost there when we were pinned down by Dragan stormtroopers. Victoria -- my mother -- covered Alex and I as we ran to the vehicle. Then it was her turn. She was just ten meters short of it when she was wounded, hit in the leg or the thigh, I believe, and fell. She was close enough that I could have reached her, but the Dragans were closing in on us; there were effectors everywhere. I could have been killed in the attempt. I weighed my mother's life against my own survival and chose the latter. Alex and I fled. My mother, I imagine, was killed shortly thereafter."
"That was a .. Neitzschean thing to do," Rommie said. "Your survival means her DNA survives in you and your offspring. And exile may have been worse than death to her."
"So I tell myself," Tyr said, his voice shaking and a tear running down his cheek. "But she was my mother. And I will never know. Dylan was right, Ship. You did the right thing."
THE END
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