Disclaimer: I don't own Andromeda or its characters. I just like writing about them.
Rating: PG. Some mild eroticism.
Notes: This story sprang out of an idea from a friend so thank her not me. This one is for you Emma!! This will probably be contradicted in "Harper 2.0" (can't wait for that!) but hey. . .
Inside
© 2000, NorthernStar
There was stars all around. Above, below and for as far as the eye could see. Nothing but endless space and stars. . .so many stars.
I've made it. I'm here. . .I'm really, truly here!
Seamus Harper was in space.
He stood at the small window of his room on the medical station, watching the tiny bright points of light move slowly to the left. But, of course, it wasn't the stars moving, it was the station, turning slowly on its axis.
And any moment now, he'd see it.
Harper shivered as Earth crept into view. The planet spun too, a brilliant ball of blue and white. Some would call it beautiful but he'd seen the truth. Earth was ugly. Earth was death.
Earth was his home.
No. . ., he corrected himself. Earth was the place you were born, but you're home is here. In the stars, you've just gotta find it.
"Seamus Harper?"
He turned to see a nurse in the doorway. Her reddish brown hair twisted up into a bun and she clutched a transparency to her chest.
"Yeah, that's me."
"I'm Christina Edwards, I'll be your nurse for the next couple of weeks or so, depending on how fast you heal." She tapped the transparency in her hand. "You're next on the list. If you'll just sign this, I can walk you down."
"What, I don't get the trolley treatment?"
"Not on your budget. I think they reserve those for the executive patients" And then she smiled, "but if you're good, I give you a lollipop."
Harper grinned. "Strawberry?"
"I think we're outta strawberry. What about blackcurrant?"
"No strawberry? Guess I don't have the budget for that either, right?" He frowned, "blackcurrants good, but forest fruits would be better."
She chuckled, "I see what I can do." And held out the form.
Harper took it and quickly read it through. It was the standard 'if anything goes wrong, don't sue us, it's your fault and you'd better apologise to us for up and dying because that sort of thing just ruins our day' type disclaimer. Nothing he wasn't expecting.
He signed and handed it back. She checked it was all in order. "Right, if you'll just follow me." She began towards the door and then stopped, "oh, did you lock your belonging in the bedside cabinet? The people here are fairly trustworthy, but, you know, just in case."
Harper looked back as his small, half empty nap-sack that housed all the belonging he'd brought with him. The worn clothes inside were hardly worth stealing but there was also a set of photos of his family. Both of them, the one he'd been a part of with his mother and father and the one he'd made with Podraig for his cousin to grow up in.
Jessie. . ., he thought, and his heart ached. She was dead now, her uncle too. He had no-one left. Nothing but the memories and those few precious holographs.
He picked up the bag, tossed it in the cabinet and locked it with his thumbprint. He wondered how the hell they got these things open when the patient died during surgery.
He shuddered; maybe he didn't want to know. The image that brought up wasn't pleasant.
Nah, they probably have a master code or somethin'.
Then they began down the corridor.
******
The young man was handsome, she decided. Christina had cared for many patients undergoing this kind of surgery before and most of them were in their twenties, some older than that, but rarely were they as young as Harper. His medical notes said he was only eighteen, a couple of years younger than she was. He must have impressed the head surgeon to even be considered for the implant at his age, no matter how much money he might have paid. And that wasn't much. The boy was on the minimal care list, one of the 'budget' patients. Budget plan patients were the most likely to die during surgery or suffer brain damage. You had to want an implant desperately to risk it.
And at his age. . .
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
Harper nodded. "Sure, hit me."
"Why do you want an implant? You must have read the warnings. It's not the safest way of interfacing with a computer."
"Yeah, but it's also the fastest, the best. And you don't have to worry about learning stuff, you just plug in, upload and, hey presto, you know it all."
"And if you're not careful you'll end up shorting out your brain."
Harper looked at her, "do your bosses know you go around frightening their customers off?"
She laughed, "no. And I'm not trying to put you off. . .exactly. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing."
"Look, I grew up on Earth, OK? I didn't have any way near enough of an education to get work on a ship or a station and if I want to be the kind of person someone'll employ I gotta have the knowledge and I gotta have an edge. Having an implant'll give me one."
She flinched at the anger in his voice. "I'm sorry." She said and looked down at her feet.
"No, I'm sorry, I guess. I didn't mean to go off at you."
They walked the rest of the way in silence and stopped outside the door of the operating room. There was another door next to it, open, revealing a small changing area. Harper pointed in there.
"Is this where I get to put on one of those gowns that don't close at the back?"
"I'm afraid so. But don't worry, I won't look."
"Great, you just took away my one consolation."
"Well, I'll peek if you want me too."
"Hey, Seamus Harper does not beg."
With a laugh, the nurse pushed him into the changing room and shut the door on him.
******
Ten minutes later, Harper emerged from the little room in a knee-length light blue covering which he held together with one hand at the small of his back. It had taken a few minutes to work up the courage to come out and face the pretty nurse. He knew he was still underweight from all those years of too little to eat and he'd been surprised at the rush of shame he'd felt for looking like this. First thing he was gonna do when he got himself a decent job was pump a little iron.
But she didn't even seem to notice his skinny frame.
"The colour suits you." She smiled, "you should wear more blue."
"Don't you have anything a little more. . .well a little more."
"No, just that. One for all." She went to the surgery door and held it open, "ready?"
For a half moment, he wanted to turn and run. But he forced the feeling away. He needed to do this. And he was ready.
******
I am not ready for this, was the first thing he thought when he entered the stark, sterile operating room. The lights were far too harsh; so bright his eyes hurt. The single padded recliner seat that stood in the middle of the room looked enormous. He would sit in there like a little child in a land of giants.
Christina lay a hand on his arm and did her best not to sound patronising, "you sure you're OK?"
Harper pulled himself upright, "sure."
Two men dressed in surgical scrubs looked up from their computer terminals as Harper and the nurse entered. The first smiled encouragingly, the other just frowned.
"He's a bit young." The latter concluded after he'd looked him up and down for a few moments.
"Well, he must have passed the pshycs." The first doctors replied and then he addressed Harper, "have a seat, son, the anaesthetist'll be along in a minute."
Harper stared at the seat. The huge, rigid black seat. Christina patted his arm gently and stopped when he hit her with a glare.
Oh crap. . ., he thought as he saw a brief flash of hurt pass across her face. It was gone in an instant and he sensed an apology would not be welcome. She was doing her job, and she wasn't supposed to take it personally. But it at least gave him motivation to climb into the chair. It wasn't as uncomfortable as it had looked, or as all enveloping. OK, so he still appeared to be a small boy in it, but he didn't feel as overwhelmed as he'd thought he would.
"Comfy?" Christina asked.
Harper wiggled a bit to find a sweet spot then nodded. "Yeah."
"Great."
"Do you, like, watch this or something?"
"What? Don't you want me looking at your brain?"
He frowned at her.
"No, I'm just here 'til you go nighty-night and I'll be there when you wake up."
Harper thought of all the post-operative side effects people had warned him of. There was one in particular he wasn't looking forward to very much. "To bring me a sick bag, right?"
"That's my job." She grinned, "hey as long as you actually get it in the bag I'm not complaining. If you miss, that's another story."
"That happens a lot?"
"You have no idea!"
The door swung open and emitted a tall thin woman with a tray. Christina grinned at her. "Hi, Lynda!" And then quietly to Harper, "That's Lynda. She's the one who gonna put you to sleep. In more ways than one!"
Lynda didn't make any attempt at pleasantries with Harper, something he thought was rude. She could've a least said hello. The woman prepared his left wrist with a solution and began switching on a small device she took from her tray. When it was activated, she strapped it to his wrist and pulled so tight Harper felt the blood in his veins stop circulating. And as the pressure continued, he worried that the bones in his wrists would crumble to dust under the strain.
But he bit his tongue rather than disgrace himself by wailing. Whether that was because he didn't want the anaesthetist to have the satisfaction of knowing she was hurting him, or because of his pride, he didn't know.
O maybe he didn't want Christina thinking he was a wimp. . . because he liked her.
Whoa! Where did that come from?
And on that thought, Lynda loosened the wrist strap to activate it, sending a rush of anaesthetic coursing through his system and he was asleep in seconds.
******
He was running with the horses. Wild, beautiful palominos. Strong and tall, bright as the sun on a clear day.
A clear day. . .
He was on the beach. An honest to God beach, with pure white sand stretching for miles, being swallowed by the tide as it crashed on the shore. Harper stared out across the ocean. The sea was clear and blue all the way to the horizon where it met a sky that was an even richer shade of blue. It was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Earth had never been this lovely.
Earth. . .
He was standing among the stars and below him spun his home world. A ball that filled space with a vision a blue and white and his heart with pain. Stretching out his arms he flew closer, soaring through the stratosphere, down and down. He could see continents, first as small spots and then they grew, filling his sight. Still he flew closer; so close he could make out the patches of colour that was civilisation. Yellow and light greens for farm land, deep greens for wild forests, and slate grey for the churn of cities and towns.
Towns. . .
He was in a market place, which was full of people wrapped warmly against the cold. A small child darted up to him; her little face peeping out from under a riot of honey coloured curls. She said a word in her baby talk that sounded like 'hi ya', the smile she gave him wrinkling her nose because it was so big.
Harper smiled back just as the child's mother scooped her up and grinned at him, a rueful look in her eyes that seemed to say 'kids!'
Kids. . .
"Legally, yes, you are old enough. But the general policy of this hospital is not to perform this kind of operation on someone as young as you."
Harper stood at the back of the hospital administrator's office, watching himself plead his case for the neural implant. This wasn't a dream. This had happened. Had the other stuff happened too? He couldn't remember. Maybe it was going to happen. . .one day.
The Harper he was watching shifted slightly in his chair. I don't remember being so fidgety, he thought as he stared at himself.
"But what about the psych tests? I could take one of those."
"Mr Harper, those tests are expensive."
"I have money." His voice was defensive. Great, Harper, real cool!
"Yes, but the test are not available on the budget plan."
"So I pay for them separately."
"You could do that. . ." The hospital administrator had sighed, "if you were prepared to wait just 3 more years, you could save yourself the expense. And the chances of a successful outcome increase after you turn 21."
"But I'm not prepared!" Harper closed his eyes, trying to stay calm. This was only his whole life they were discussing. "I'll sit any test you want. I know I can pass them. I already know far more about neural implants than most of the people who have one."
"Yes, I know. And that was the only reason the board agreed to this interview." The administrator paused for a long moment, considering the thin, pale young boy in front of him.
Harper had sensed the man's understanding. And he'd pushed. . .just a little.
"Look, I need this. I know most of implants you do are for Mafioso types who only want an implant to keep their dirty little secrets safe in their own brains. But I just want to work. I need to work!"
"Mr Harper. . .Seamus. . .I can understand your desire to leave Earth--"
"No you don't! You probably grew up on a station or a ship with clean water and plenty of food and a warm bed. I didn't! And I don't want to live that way anymore. If I can just get a job off-world. . ."
"You can." He replied, "There are--"
"No there aren't! Not decent ones. If I have a good job maybe. . .maybe my kids won't have to grow up the way I did." You oughta be shot for that one, Seamus.
The administrator looked down for a moment then raised his head to meet the boy's eyes. "Do you even have the money for the pshycs?"
A rush of relief washed over him. "I'll get it."
There was the sound of galloping horses behind him and the office melted away, disappearing like an early morning mist in the heat of day.
And then he was running with the horses again, just another string in nature's unending tapestry. . .
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