This was originally written for In Good Time's cog prompt.

 

Machine

by Autumnburn

 

I.

 

Some days Beka caught herself almost crying over Harper’s death. It was awkward, especially when he was in the room with her.

 

She’d be thinking about the early days flying with him on the Eureka Maru, back before they freed the Andromeda Ascendant and its captain, back before Rev and Trance had joined, back when she’d still been with Bobby. Back then, she’d been getting used to Harper’s firecracker personality, and more often than not his hyperactivity got on her nerves. But so quickly he’d become like a little brother to her.

 

She’d be remembering his misguided attempts to protect her from Bobby. He’s no good for you, Beka. He’s no good, period. What you need is a guy who can fix brake jets, recalibrate the slipstream drive, and still have time to take you out for a beer. Well, okay, he’d been like a little brother with slightly incestuous intentions.

 

She’d be thinking these things, and suddenly her eyes would be burning, and she’d have to blink back tears. Worse were the times when Dylan would notice. The captain would frown and lean over to quietly ask if she was okay. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” she’d say, but by then the damage was done, because if Harper was in the room, he’d look up from whatever repairs he was doing. And then he’d look at her, inquiringly, and she’d have to reassure him with a smile.

 

It was a dishonest smile, though she hoped it fooled Harper. It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t.

 

II.

 

A week before Harper’s death, Dylan found her banging on the door of machine shop three, shouting at Andromeda to unlock it. “She can’t,” he said, and Beka jumped. She hadn’t heard him approach.

 

“What do you mean, she can’t?” She snapped. “He’s sick. What if he collapses?”

 

“Andromeda is monitoring his health. She’ll open the door if anything happens to him.” He shrugged. “He put the room on privacy mode. It’s his choice. We don’t have the right to barge in on him.”

 

“He’s sick,” She repeated, because it felt like no one was getting that point. “He should be resting. He can’t risk running himself into the ground before we have time to find a cure.”

 

Dylan didn’t meet her eyes.

 

Beka pushed some blond hair out of her face and glared at the door. “The Wangaru said they have a good chance at adapting their antibiotics for human use. And they’re working hard. Wangaru Tey feels partly responsible... and even if they luck out, the Perseids said two weeks, tops, they’d have a cure.”

 

“He doesn’t have two weeks.”

 

“And god knows why, but the Perseids love Harper. They’ll be working their asses off. So he needs to be resting!” She punctuated the last word with the side of her fist to the door.

 

Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. “Harper knows what’s being done for him.”

 

“He’s sick, he’s not thinking clearly!”

 

“You’re implying that he thinks clearly when he’s healthy.”

 

Forgetting her anger at the door, Beka spun on Dylan, her eyes blazing. “This is Harper’s life, not a joke.”

 

“I’m sorry. Beka... I’m not taking this situation lightly. I just don’t think he’s doing anything wrong.”

 

“He’s giving up!”

 

Dylan sighed. “It’s unconventional, what Harper is doing, but I’d hardly call it ‘giving up’.”

 

Finally feeling defeated, Beka leaned against the cool metal of the door. Everything looked too solid, too real in the brightly lit corridor, especially Dylan in his High Guard uniform. “Have you seen what he’s built yet?”

 

Dylan shook his head.

 

“It looks exactly like him.”

 

“Good, that’s good.”

 

Beka thought Dylan was entirely missing the point.

 

She hadn’t been exaggerating, though. It looked just like him, down to the dimples in his cheeks. Harper wasn’t just a genius engineer; he was an artist.

 

A week later, though, it didn’t look like Harper. It looked much, much better.

 

Trance had dimmed the lights in the med. bay, and the shadows were likely doing Harper’s appearance a kindness. There was no point in telling herself that he’d looked worse, Beka thought. He’d been sick so many times before, due to his compromised immune system, but this was it. He’d never be sick again.

 

He looked insubstantial, propped up at a low angle on the bed. There were a few plants on a nearby counter, courtesy of Trance, but other than those everything in the room was colorless, Harper included.

 

His eyes fluttered open when Beka took his hand. “Hey,” He said, and smiled. His voice sounded like the soft whirr of the Maru’s engines. “Hey,” she responded, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

 

“I’ve picked a time for the transference,” he told her. “Nine O’Clock tonight. I’ve always been a night person.”

 

Beka frowned down at him. “So soon?”

 

“So soon?” He laughed, the sputtering sound of the Maru low on fuel. “Beka, look at me.”

 

“I know. But you should wait a bit longer. Once you do this, there’s no going back.”

 

Harper let his eyes drift shut. “The year I was born, the average life span for a human in Boston was 37. It was worse in the camps, of course, but no one bothered calculating how much more it sucked.”

 

Beka squeezed the hand a little tighter. “Yeah, Earth did a number on you. But you aren’t on Earth. Powerful Commonwealth starship, remember?”

 

His lips quirked up. “You spacers don’t know what it’s like to be planet-born. I might be in the ship of my dreams, but as long as I’m in this body, I’m in the field of Earth’s influence, like a - ouch, Beka.”

 

Beka loosened her grip. “You really think this is the only way?”

 

“I do, but that’s not the point. It’s the best way. I’ll be stronger, faster...”

 

“Smarter?” She teased.

 

“No way. You can’t improve on this kind of genius, believe me. Because if anyone could make me smarter, it’d be me, and I’ve tried. Conclusion: can’t be done.”

 

Beka laughed, relieved at hearing Harper joke and desperately wondering if she’d ever hear it again. And then suddenly she wasn’t laughing, but crying. She yanked her hand away from Harper’s and covered her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“You’re just saying that. Once I’m better, you’ll be back to trying to ditch me on Ice Comet Drift, so I don’t ruin your chances of hooking up with some beefcake dancer who doesn’t appreciate you or your ship...” his voice started fading. “Don’t say goodbye. This isn’t goodbye.” By the time Beka wiped the tears from her eyes, he was unconscious.

 

III.

 

When Harper woke up in his new body, the first thing he did was hug Rommie, who was standing next to him, monitoring the process. “I’m back, Rom-doll,” he sing-songed, and the warship AI rolled her eyes.

 

“God help us, you are.” The sting was softened by the huge grin she was sporting.

 

Trance bounded over to him from her vigil over his human body. There was no reason for her to stay there - now it was cold and still. The enigmatic alien wrapped her arms around Harper, and with a laugh he returned the embrace.

 

His eyes settled on Beka. She felt like a Qwarl caught in an antimatter beam. He gently disengaged from Trance and came towards her. She couldn’t look away, not that she wanted to; she needed to see if it was still him, like he’d promised. Was there anything missing behind these eyes? Anything different? Beka felt color rising in her face as she realized she couldn’t tell.

 

Maybe she’d never spent enough time looking him in the eyes before.

 

She didn’t resist when he hugged her, but she let out a surprised squeal when he leaned back enough to lift her off the ground and spin her. “Look what I can do, Ma,” he joked.

 

“Harper! Put me down!”

 

“Not until you admit that you love me!”

 

Her heart ached at how easy it was to fall into their old banter. “Tyr will become a Wayist before that happens!”

 

He set her down and Trance stepped forward again. “I got you a present, Harper. It’s on the Obs deck. Come on, I want to show you.” She took his hand and led him out the door. Dylan met Beka’s gaze and gave her a smile and raised eyebrow look before following, with Rommie at his side.

 

Rev Bem followed too, but he paused at the door. “It will mean a lot to Harper if you come celebrate with us.”

 

She bit her lip. “Will it?” Will the sight of me trigger Harper’s memories, stored as billions of bytes of data in his head? Will the signal be sent for him to smile, to show happiness? Is that meaningful?

 

“You’re like family to him,” Rev answered. “Of course he cares.”

 

Beka nodded, feeling empty. “I’ll be right there. Tell him if he asks.”

 

With a bow of his head, Rev left.

 

Her footsteps seemed unnaturally loud as she walked over to the pod-like bed which held the silent body. She looked down at it and studied the shadows his eyelashes made against his cheeks.

 

“So this is is,” she said, just to break the silence. “I still think it’s stupid that this was the one to take you out. A wangaru sneezed on you. That’s hardly the blaze of glory you bragged about.”

 

She reached down and pushed the button that opened the pod’s lid. It slid open with a hiss. “I don’t know much about total consciousness transference, but Rommie said it was successful. I think she’s happy, in a way, that she’s not so alone now. I guess... I guess that’s good.”

 

There was a white sheet covering him, and Beka untucked it from around his shoulders. “You told me not to say goodbye, so I won’t. And I want you to know that I’ll try to give you a chance. I promise I’ll try. Because I believe in you, I really do.” She leaned over and kissed the cold forehead, then pulled the sheet up until it completely covered him.

 

She couldn’t help whispering, “I love you,” as she shut the lid and turned away. And she couldn’t help it that it felt like goodbye.