This Day

“Here I stand, inside I weep,

With promises I meant to keep.

Here I stand, wide awake,

Living life, for life's sake.

Here I stand and here I'll stay,

Forever blue upon this day.”

______________________________________________

Harper hadn’t slept in twenty-seven hours. He would have been within his rights to complain about it, but he honestly hadn’t noticed. He was tired, but it was nothing that a few cans of Sparky couldn’t stall for a couple more hours. Every time Harper finished a job, another one would crop up - or, to be more accurate, it would crop up, and Dylan would yell at him to fix it.

“Dammit!” he cursed, as two wires that weren’t meant to meet, fused accidentally and caused a spark. He looked at his finger for any sign of burn or blood, but found nothing. “I’m fine, by the way, Rommie. Thanks for asking,” he muttered sarcastically to the omnipresence of Andromeda’s AI.

Rommie’s voice came over the com. “Are you alright, Harper?” she asked, if a little late. Harper simply rolled his eyes at the ship’s strange taste in humor. He didn’t mind too much - it was just one of Rommie’s quirks that he loved so much.

“Harper, have you finished tuning the back-up sensors yet?” It was Dylan this time. He must have some kind of sixth sense that told him whenever Harper stopped working, because every time he did, Dylan was right there, telling him to get on with it.

“I’m working on it,” Harper replied indignantly. “Not like I really need any beauty sleep anyway, I’m already freakin’ perfect,” he mumbled after the com went dead again. He really didn’t know who his humor was in aid of, but he used it so often to deflect from the fact that he was pissed, it was just normal now.

Then yet another voice came from nowhere. “Harper, you up here?” It was Beka. She popped her head up into the conduit.

“What’s up, boss?” Harper asked, attempting to keep hold of his good-humored patience.

“The environmental controls are malfunctioning on deck 16. Tyr’s not a happy bunny, just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Harper sighed. When was Tyr ever a happy bunny? He smiled slightly at having used ‘Tyr’ and ‘bunny’ in the same sentence. “Great. I’ll get right on it. After I’m done getting the back-up sensors online, fixing the door controls on deck 5, overhauling the weapons and the guidance system, repairing the maintenance bots that were caught in the explosion on deck three, then completely overhauling and remodeling deck three.”

“So that should take, what, an hour?” Beka jested.

______________________________________________

Harper made his way through the corridors heading for the maintenance conduits on deck four, where he could get started on the weapons systems. But his mind wasn’t really on repairs. Not on this day.

“Harper, I thought you were going to fix the weapons?” Rommie’s avatar said, passing him in the corridor.

“I’m on my way, jeez, I may be a genius but I got short legs, cut me some slack!” Harper snapped.

“Sorry. But you know, weapons is the other way.”

Harper looked around the corridor sheepishly. “I knew that,” he said, and turned around. Rommie walked with him.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just over-worked and underpaid darlin’. Severely underpaid.”

Rommie was confused. No-one on the ship got paid...

“It’s an expression,” Harper explained, on seeing her artificial brow furrow.

“Well, if you finish everything in time, could you take a look at my visual spectrum? I think my infra-red detection is a little off,” Rommie said, and turned the corner, not waiting for a reply.

“‘You want some help, Harper?’” he imitated. “Hey, thanks, that would be great, Rom.” He continued to talk under his breath all the way to the weapon systems controls. When he climbed up into the conduit, he listened to the quiet for a while before getting started. He sighed. “March 16^th.”

______________________________________________

An hour later, Harper had almost finished his repairs on the weapons. Just a touch-up there, a little nano-welding there, and -

FZZZ! Sparks flew from the console.

“Shit!” he shouted, overly annoyed. That had to be the power circuits running through the main lines.

Sure enough - “Harper, that surge went right through my power relays,” Andromeda reported. “Twenty-two of them were shorted out.”

“Fantastic. How long will that set us back?” Harper asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer. He didn’t know why he had said ‘us’, because he was really the only one doing any work. The others were probably sleeping, or shining their shoes ready for the ‘Big Royal Visit of Importantness’.

“About four hours,” Rommie replied impartially. “Would you like me to tell Dylan?”

“Nah, forget it. I’m on a break.”

______________________________________________

Harper skulked en route to his quarters, hoping he wouldn’t bump into anyone.

No such luck. “Mr Harper, shouldn’t you be working?” Dylan asked as soon as he saw his engineer walking the corridors.

“I need a half-hour off,” Harper replied bluntly.

“Are you kidding me? Rommie told me there was a power surge, that it’s going to add hours onto the schedule,” Dylan’s patience had been short from the moment he’d awoken, and it had been gradually shrinking as the day went on.

“Half an hour, Dylan, that’s all I’m asking.”

“I’m sorry, Harper, there’s just not enough time for you to laze around drinking Sparky cola. We need those repairs ASAP.”

“But it’s...” Harper started to protest, but didn’t get far.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Harper, get the weapons fixed, now,” Dylan ordered sternly.

If he’d been paying attention, he would have noticed the change in Harper’s demeanor, the slight sadness in his tone, and the way he looked at the floor. Not the behavior that was consistent with the usually hyperactive engineer. But as it happened, Dylan wasn’t paying attention, and was gone before Harper could protest any more.

Harper watched after him. “But it’s March 16th.”

______________________________________________

Weapons. Weapons, we’re working on the weapons systems now, not the guidance. Harper told himself repeatedly, but his concentration was waning. Three hours he had spent replacing the damaged relays, and was in dire need of a break. He resented the fact that Dylan had denied him a mere half an hour, on this day of all days.

Another relay was fused into place. Only eleven more to go, he thought grimly. The hours of sleep he needed were catching up with him, fast, and no amount of caffeine could have stopped his eyes from closing for the briefest second - and in an instant he was out cold.

______________________________________________

“Do we have weapons yet?” Dylan asked restlessly.

“Not yet. Harper’s been replacing the burnt out power relays,” Rommie replied, trying to give Harper some leeway. She knew that he was working as hard as he could, even if Dylan didn’t.

“He hasn’t even done that yet?” Dylan sighed irritably and opened the com. “Harper!” he yelled.

There was no response.

“Where is he?”

Rommie checked and sheepishly replied. “He’s asleep in the weapons conduit.”

Dylan said nothing and headed for Harper’s location.

“He has been awake for nearly thirty hours, Dylan, go easy on him,” Andromeda’s holographic avatar said as Dylan strode through the ship on a mission.

“You’re defending him? Do you understand how it will look when High-Commander Noam arrives to look around the pride of the Commonwealth and I don’t even have the capability to defend an attack from a cargo vessel?” he shouted, picking a random scenario from the air.

Andromeda thought it best not to argue. When her Captain was this mad, there wasn’t any reasoning with him anyway. She felt sorry for Harper, but failed to wake him before Dylan arrived.

“HARPER!”

Harper jumped right up from his slumped position, whacking his head on the ceiling when he did. Instinct took over and he hastily checked his environment for attackers. This time there was just the one - a very angry-looking high guard officer. It appeared that sixth sense of his had kicked in again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Fixing the, uh, guidance systems, just liked you wanted,” Harper replied clumsily.

“First of all, you’re fixing weapons. Secondly, you do not sleep on the job when we have a deadline. I expect you to be done here and moved onto guidance in two hours, now MOVE IT!”

Harper started to kick himself for falling asleep, then he stopped. Screw Dylan. Screw working his ass off for someone who doesn’t appreciate it, and screw fixing the damn ship, she was only going to get broken again.

It was March 16^th and he didn’t have to take any shit on this day, let alone from an ancient Commonwealth Captain who wasn’t really even his Captain. He pushed his tools aside and slid down the access ladder. Dylan was just about to turn the corner when he caught sight of Harper.

“Am I to take it that you’ve finished fixing the weapons?”

“No, Captain Hunt, I have not finished fixing the weapons, or the guidance, or the power relays of the freaking maintenance bots, and I’m not going to,” Harper said clearly, but with an air of authority in his tone.

Dylan was too shocked at the sudden burst of insubordination to speak.

“I’m not lifting another goddamn finger. I have been working non-stop for the past thirty-one hours. I think a half an hour off is a pretty reasonable request, and if you don’t think so, I don’t care, I’m taking it anyway.”

Dylan stood dumbfounded as Harper walked away.

______________________________________________

Beka was wandering the corridors and came across Dylan standing in the hallway. This was decidedly odd, seeing as Dylan hadn’t been able to stand still since they’d heard about the all-important visit.

“Hey, Dylan...you okay?”

“Harper just...” Dylan began, but was still in a state of mild shock.

“Just...what? Did that little dance he does? Yeah, it’s scary, I know, the first time I caught him it was - ”

“Do you think I’ve been overworking him?” Dylan asked, ignoring the rather disturbing comments Beka had made.

“Well, yeah,” Beka said obviously. “But no more than usual I’d say. Besides, he’s a workaholic, it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy it.”

“Then I think he may have just snapped.”

______________________________________________

“Anyone in here?” Harper called. When he got no reply, he relaxed a little, but decided to make sure.

“Rommie, where’s Trance?” She would be the most likely to be hanging around in the obs deck.

“In medical tidying up,” Andromeda replied.

Harper let himself calm down a little. “Engage privacy mode, highest level, authorization Alpha Charlie four Zulu,” he stated clearly.

“Privacy mode enabled.”

______________________________________________

Dylan had thought it best to give Harper his half an hour. It would cut things a little fine, but at least that would keep with tradition, he supposed. But over an hour had passed and Harper was still not working in any of the areas of the ship that needed his expertise.

“Andromeda, where is Harper?”

“In the obs deck, but he’s engaged privacy mode.”

“Then disengage it, he’s really pushing this whole break thing.”

Dylan wasn’t far from obs deck and arrived quickly.

“I can’t disengage it, he used the highest authorization code,” Holo-Rommie replied.

“And just where did he get that?” Dylan said, another little annoyance adding to his collection.

“There’s not much Harper doesn’t know about my systems.”

“Which is precisely why I need him working on the repairs,” Dylan said, trying to get Rommie on his side. “Harper, are you in there?” he called, though he knew Harper was inside. Why he was in the obs deck was another question. It wasn’t on Harper’s list of places he wanted to be. There was no reply from behind the closed door.

“Andromeda, open the door.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I can’t,” Andromeda replied. Dylan should know better.

“Harper, your break is up, I need you back to work,” he tried.

Still no answer. Maybe Harper was still pissed at him. “Beka, could you come to the obs deck?”

______________________________________________

“What’s goin on?” Beka asked curiously when she arrived. It couldn’t have been anything life-threatening, or Tyr would no doubt be on the scene, looking macho, and Trance would be telling Dylan riddles that made no sense.

“Harper’s in there, I think he’s still mad at me. Would you get him out here and back to work?”

“You called me down here because Harper’s sulking?” Beka said, bemused.

Dylan smiled sarcastically at the comment. “Just get him out here.”

“Harper, you okay in there?” Beka called.

Silence.

“You sure he’s in there?”

Dylan was at the end of his tether. “Look, you made your point, just get your ass out here and back to work.”

The door slid open. Harper was standing there with a look that could kill a swarm of magog. He said nothing, just pushed past the two confused officers and back towards weapons.

“At least you know he heard you,” Beka said, bothered by Dylan’s harshness. She went into the room to look around, to see if she could work out just what Harper was doing. Surely any break he took would be spent in his quarters, or the machine shop. Why here?

There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room. It seemed that nothing had been moved or touched.

Then she stopped. There, lying on the floor was a candle. It looked as if it had been burning for about an hour, the wax spilled over the side onto the floor. A red spark was still apparent in the wick. Harper must have just extinguished it.

“Where’s Harper?” Trance asked as she entered.

“He just left,” Beka replied.

“Did he seem okay? I mean, I know he’d be upset, I thought I’d just leave him alone. But I wanted to see if he needed anything.”

“How did you know he was upset?” Beka asked.

“It’s March 16^th,” Trance replied, feeling like she was stating the obvious.

Beka’s face fell as the realization came across her. “Oh my god, I forgot. I’m such an idiot,” she said, exasperated. She sounded truly angry with herself.

“Beka, how could you? You know how much this day means to him,” Trance asked sadly.

Dylan waited for an answer.

“It’s March 16^th,” Beka told him. “Harper’s parents....it’s the anniversary of their deaths.”

______________________________________________

Harper was silently working on the weapons. Andromeda found it quite disturbing. Usually Harper would talk to her, or himself, when he was working. It helped the time go by, and though she had never admitted as much, she enjoyed it. She felt almost as bad as Dylan, having found out the significance of the date. The guilty Captain was on his way.

“Harper? Can I talk to you?”

“You can talk,” Harper replied, then added under his breath; “Can’t guarantee I’ll listen...”

“I sorry, I didn’t know,” Dylan began.

“Didn’t know what?”

“What day it was.”

“Remind me to get you a calendar for your birthday.”

Dylan sighed. “You’re going to make it as difficult as possible for me to apologize, aren’t you?”

“Damn straight,” Harper replied from the safety of the conduit. He was still angry, but appreciated the effort.

Dylan decided to make a peace-offering. “Take the day off,” he said. It was the obvious gesture that needed making. “Get some sleep, do whatever you need to do.”

Harper’s head appeared from the conduit, upside down. “Really?”

“Sure. The repairs can wait.”

“What about the Supreme High and Mighty Commander?” Harper asked, knowing how much the visit meant to him.

Dylan smirked. “Andromeda is already the pride of the Commonwealth, I’m sure he won’t mind if a few systems are down.”

“Thanks,” Harper said sincerely, and jumped down from the conduit. He suddenly looked quite embarrassed. “But it doesn’t mean I need any pity or anything, okay?” he said, trying to maintain his self-esteem.

“I know,” Dylan replied, knowing exactly what Harper needed to hear.

“Good,” the engineer replied, and shifted awkwardly. “Guess I’ll be going then.”

Dylan watched Harper disappear down the corridor, glad they had resolved the tension between them, and also sad for the memories Harper had to carry with him.

______________________________________________

Harper returned to the obs deck. He didn’t engage the privacy mode, hoping that he didn’t need to anymore. It was March 16^th once more, and every year on this day he was fated to think back. Not to the deaths of his mother and father, but their lives.

He stared at the stars and remembered.

The End.

Return to Main Index