He tried to collect his thoughts, even with his heart beating so hard in his chest he thought it was going to break his ribs and fly out, across the room, splatter on the wall opposite. He took a deep breath and looked at Beka, trying to remain calm, while angrily wondering who left a gun for her to just pick up like that.
“Ok Beka,” he said in an as calm voice as he could muster, “please put the gun down.”
“I’m not,” she choked on her own words as she stifled a sob, “I’m...not...”
“Please Beka, don’t do anything rash,” he begged, “put down the gun.”
“Harper, it’s not!” What did she mean? It’s not a gun? Christ, did she think she was holding something else?
“Beka, I don’t want you to panic, but there’s a gun in your hands.”
“Nooo... Not mine.” Not her hands? “Quick. Bang. Gone. Goes so quickly. Easy.”
“Beka, don’t say that, don’t ever. You’ll be ok, but you need to put the gun down.”
“Not me.” She choked again. “Maybe good. Maybe.”
“Not good, Beka. It’s not good. Who’s holding the gun?”
“Can look, can’t see, never there but always here.” She choked again as she pushed the gun further into her chest. “He’s here, not here though, gone, but still around. So dark.”
“Ok, Beka, take a deep breath.” She complied. “Now, can you see the person holding the gun?”
“Can’t see. Never see.”
“Can you see his hands?”
“Can’t...can’t...it’s getting fuzzy. Can’t think. Muddled.”
“Ok Beka, I want you to stretch your arms out as far as you can and open your hands, show me your palms.”
“Palms.”
“Yes, please Beka.”
“I...don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?”
“I can’t...” Suddenly, without warning, there was a loud bang and Beka fell to the floor. Harper rushed up as quickly as he could, his heart now positively splattered on the wall, or possibly shattered on the floor. He felt a lump rising in his throat and tears stinging his eyes as he threw himself at her side. The gun had slid across the floor and Beka was covered in blood.
“Trance is on her way,” he heard behind him, “Harper, she’s not dead.”
“She’s not?”
“No, she shot herself in the abdomen, apply pressure quickly.” He quickly ripped his T-shirt off and pressed it to the wound on her abdomen he had now found. It wasn’t long before Trance rushed into the room with a couple of bots following her.
“Thank you Harper,” she said quickly, “I think she should be fine. I’ll take it from here.” As she quickly left the room with the bots carrying Beka, Harper turned to Andromeda, who was still standing behind him.
“She didn’t die.”
“No, Harper, she didn’t. It seems at the moment she pulled the trigger, she also pulled the gun down, away from her chest. I have to tell you though, if she hadn’t, she would be dead now. The gun was pressed perfectly to where her heart is located.”
“So at least something in her didn’t want to die.”
“I think we should be more worried that something in her did. From what she said it was obvious she thought someone else was holding the trigger, but that could be a way for her mind to justify, as such, her suicide attempt.”
“Suicide?”
“She shot herself Harper.”
“Yes, but...she pulled the gun away.”
“So, we have conflicting wills. I’ve called Dylan and my avatar to meet you in medbay.” He nodded and started walking there. He felt himself shivering on the way there, unsure if he’d actually yet taken in what had happened. She had seemed perfectly fine, and then suddenly she’d flipped. It was as if somehow the...he couldn’t find a word to describe it. Her bad side? It was as if it found the worst possible time to strike. Or was it just coincidence? He reached medbay where Beka was unconscious on a table, and Trance, Dylan, and Rommie were standing around her, talking in hushed voices.
“This is not good at all,” Trance sighed. “She’s tried to harm herself before, but a suicide attempt, that’s new. It’s also extremely worrying.”
“It can’t happen again,” Dylan said decisively.
“Obviously,” Rommie said, “but how do we enforce this? Leaving medbay again is obviously out of the question but...I’m wondering if that is enough.”
“What do you mean?” Harper asked.
“She needs to be restrained,” Trance said. “Just a couple of restraints around her wrists.”
“Her wrists? Trance, that’s very restraining,” Dylan pointed out. “She won’t be able to do anything.”
“Well, she needs to be restrained somehow,” Trance sighed. “If she wants to do something I can let her go for a while, or if someone comes to visit her.”
“Fine,” Dylan nodded. “Use the restraints. Maybe you could use something that’ll give her a bit of room to move though.” Trance nodded.
“I’ll chain one part to the side of the bunk and the other to her wrist, she should have enough room to move her arms about a bit at least, as long as I keep anything harmful away from her.”
****
Somewhere, someone was watching. And he was not happy. This was not going the way he had planned. Not at all.
