***
Chapter four
***
Tyr looked down when he felt Harper snuggle up against him. The dim light coming from the bathroom seemed to highlight Harper's blond hair with an angelic aura and sparkle with mischievous delight off Harper's dataport. Looking down, Tyr's thoughts were consumed by the same questions and endless debates that had plagued him since the he had first come aboard this ship.
Harper... A male, an inferior human male, little more than a child, an insolent and contrary child at that. The white skin, blonde hair and weak immune system should have signed his death certificate years ago if the condition of that...vessel and that mercenary captain of his were any indication. Yet he had not only survived, he had...
The mass of scars covering his body was a map showing in intimate detail the experiences that had brought him here. A display of survival and endurance carefully hidden beneath layers of fast talking, mercurial thinking, and self-degrading flourishes.
Nietzcheans were created to be the ultimate survivors, able to endure almost any environment no matter how hostile. Through careful breeding and solid genealogical study of inheritable traits, the Nietzchean race had prospered and expanded beyond the wildest imaginings of their human creators. Tyr reminded himself that Nietzchean males were born to father children and protect the pride; they had no other purpose.
What is it that is so different? he wondered silently. What is it about being with this boy that makes me want to challenge everything I was raised to believe was right and true. Is it his brilliant mind? Is it his unshakable loyalty in those he counts as family? Is it his unrelenting thirst for vengeance against those who have hurt him and his? Is it his cock? He paused, with a wry half smile. Or is it his willingness to sacrifice himself to save those he loves? The tight sensation of filling him? The curve of his ass, the sleek lines of his compact form? What is this agony that rips my soul apart at the thought of never holding him in my arms again?
A Nietzchean was the ultimate survivor, a genetically superior race of humans whose destiny was to bring order to the universe. The ultimate goal of a Nietzchean male was to be chosen by a strong Nietzchean woman to father the children who would make that belief a reality. To survive meant to ensure one's genes carry on in the next generation, and survival was everything.
Seamus Zelazney Harper. Earth born and bred Homo sapiens, a pure breed human from the motherwell of the human genus. Genetically inferior, possessing a flawed immune system, an infertile male, a forgettable kludge born on a world filled with them. The scientific mastermind who had created the weapon the Angel of Death used to destroy a hundred thousand genetically superior Nietzchean warriors. The technological wizard who had defied the commonly believed laws of physics, twice, to send a man three hundred years back in time to be with his mate. The engineering genius who had risked his life and sanity countless times to keep this marvel of Commonwealth might as functioning and deadly as it had been when it first left its shipyard at Tarn-Vedra. Seamus Zelazney Harper. Earth born purebred human, who may well have done what Tyr had always believed was impossible after the destruction of his pride. Restored his broken heart.
Tyr could hear his father and mother, his nephews and nieces, his uncles and aunts, the entire Kodiak pride screaming in outrage from beyond the grave. He was their hope; through his genes would the Kodiak pride emerge, phoenix-like, from the ashes of its humiliation. He, Tyr Anasazi, out of Victoria by Barbarossa, had been charged with the resurrection of an entire pride.
His duty was clear, his heart was irrelevant and inconsequential. Love was like God, a creation of genetically inferior weaklings to soothe their fears in the face of the immensity of the universe.
Having finally decided what he had to do, Tyr lovingly
and reverently ran a hand gently down Harper's side, a last touch before
he tore out his heart in the name of duty.
Lying in bed with the afterglow of the best sex in his short life, Harper snuggled up to Tyr and playfully bit on an earlobe when he heard Tyr rumble, "We won't be doing this again."
Sitting up, now completely awake, Harper looked down at the sprawled Nietzchean. "Huh?" Very eloquent.
In his mind, Tyr saw the stern, demanding faces of his pride as he forced himself to turn his head to look up at Harper coldly. "You are not Nietzchean, and you're the wrong sex even if you were."
"What the hell?" Harper demanded as he moved over the bed, away from the coolly assessing eyes of his Nietzchean lover.
Looking up at the ceiling to get away from the hurt and pain in Harper's eyes, Tyr drew a steel wall around his heart and gathered his resolve. "I have a duty to the future of Kodiak Pride. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" Harper repeated in disbelief. He felt a cold wedge of anger slide into his chest as he looked at the man who had just given him the best sex he could remember having.
Turning his head so he could see a naked Harper struggling out of the bed, Tyr regathered his steely resolve. "Yes. I'm sorry that this can not happen again, ever."
"You're freaking sorry!" Harper yelled. He wrapped a sheet around himself, staring in growing anger at that fucking über.
Looking back at the ceiling again, Tyr heard Harper start gathering his clothing from where they had thrown it in the height of their passion mere hours before. Tyr felt searing agony where his heart once lain as he heard himself say softly, "It's not you, Harper, it's me."
Harper grabbed his toolbelt and hurled it into a nearby wall light. "Just fucking shut up! I'm leaving, just like you wanted."
When Tyr silently kept staring at the ceiling as if Harper wasn't even in the room, the still naked engineer gathered his clothes together in his arms and stormed out of the apartment, not caring if Tyr worked out that he could have left at any time.
***
Old Tyr pushed himself away from the wall just down the corridor from his younger self's quarters when he heard the doors open and someone come tumbling out. He walked towards the almost naked figure pulling up his pants. "He threw you out, or you left?"
Without pausing from tugging on his T-shirt, Harper grumbled, "Are all übers effin' stubborn, pig-headed bastards."
With a smile threatening, old Tyr deadpanned, "Just the ones good in bed."
Popping his head through the top of the T-shirt, Harper gave old Tyr a curious look before he grunted and knelt down to pick up his tool belt.
"He threw you out because you're not Nietzchean and can't produce children, didn't he?"
"How did... What are you..." Harper stammered, shooting straight up in shock.
With a grunt, old Tyr knelt down and picked up Harper's toolbelt. "Nietzchean prides have a strict coda when it comes to the rebuilding of a pride that was proven inferior."
Harper watched old Tyr slowly stand up holding his toolbelt. "What are you telling me?" he demanded angrily. "That I should just get over it already because it's never going to happen? Then why the fuck did you encourage me to chase after him?"
Old Tyr calmly stared back at the angry human in front of him for a few moments. "Because you needed to understand why you have to prove yourself to him," he said carefully.
"What the fuck are you talking about now? Prove what? That all fucking übers are the same?" Harper spat, throwing his arms up in frustration.
Old Tyr sighed as Harper started to pace angrily. "Prove that a human can outwit and outfight a Nietzchean. Prove that Nietzcheans are not superior to humans, merely faster and stronger."
Harper stopped his pacing and turned to face old Tyr, stomping his anger and frustration down so he could try to understand what the hell the old guy was trying to tell him. "Just tell me," Harper said wearily.
"We will be docking at Stockholm Drift in twelve hours," old Tyr said, holding out Harper's tool belt. "I think you should check in with some old friends of yours. Mikhail Slovenvich in particular."
Harper took his toolbelt, looking at old Tyr strangely. "I thought the Dragons killed him when he lead that HLA food riot in the Moscow metroplex on Earth four months ago."
Smiling knowingly, old Tyr shook his head. "Despite the best efforts of the Drago Kasov and the other Nietzchean prides, the Human Liberation Army continues to survive. Surely that is something even the most vain Nietzchean must respect. Should they ever get organised and start to hurt them..."
With that idea planted in the fertile soil of Harper's mind, old Tyr turned and walked away from the stunned Harper before he demanded to know any more.
***
Harper sat up as a holographic image of Rommie appeared on the desk in his cluttered room.
"Harper, there is an incoming priority message for you. It's being relayed from an FTA freighter that just came through the slipstream, from someone called Uncle Phoenix."
Flashing a quick smile, Harper said, "Thanks, Rom Doll. Patch me through and engage HLA sub-routine HarperXXX33892Infinity."
Rommie's image grew distracted for a moment as the communication came up on a screen in front of him. "Harper what are you up to?"
"Sorry Rommie, but it's private," he said, giving her an apologetic look. "I promise you it's nothing to do with either the Andromeda or Dylan, but...Override Maximus Harper."
"Harp-" Rommie started to say angrily before her holographic image suddenly froze for a moment, a confused look on her face, and then fizzled out.
As the image of a well dressed older human male appeared on the screen in front of him Harper smiled brightly. "Hi, Uncle Sid. Or would you prefer Sam Profit?"
"Uncle Sid is fine for one of my niece's crew. I received your courier package, and I confess I'm intrigued as to why you think I would care what happens on Earth," Uncle Sid said, cutting to the chase.
"Well, hey. I'm human, you're human, we're all human. We're all from Earth. It is still the cradle of humanity, even if it looks more like a trash heap these days."
Leaning forward, Uncle Sid said dispassionately, "A far more generous description than any I would have given it, to be sure. But while we're talking over a secure channel, why would I care?"
Harper kept smiling. "It'll take the best Perseid minds years to crack the cipher on this, so don't worry." Dropping the smile, Harper got serious. "Because it's Earth. It's the mother planet, it's where all humans began, even the übers. You saw the HLA reports of what happened during the last Magog raid, didn't you?"
Leaning back in his chair, Sid sucked in a slow, deep breath. "Yes, I did, and my sources confirmed that they are disturbingly accurate."
"That's why. We have to do something. We can't... I can't sit by comfy and safe anymore and just let them turn Earth into another Brandenburg Tor."
"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit? Not even the most arrogant member of the Drago Kasov would allow that to happen," Uncle Sid said, frowning.
"You work it out, and then you tell me why they just let the Magog through to lay waste the Nanjing-Shanghai Metroplex. Over forty million dead in just two days," Harper said impatiently, giving him a look of deadly intent.
Wincing, Sid closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. "My sources brought back footage of the massacre." He leaned forward again. "What exactly do you think I can do about it?"
***
Walking back from his daily work out in the gym, Tyr spotted his older self walk past, headed for Machine Shop three. Tyr unconsciously accelerated his pace and quickly caught up. "Are you taking the boy some more of that gut rot he loves, old man?"
Old Tyr stopped and turned to face his younger self, lifting the hand holding a can of Sparky Cola. "And what if I am? Your actions over the past few days show that you still have little interest in what he does."
Leaning against the wall, Tyr crossed his arms. "You seem to be getting awfully attached to the boy."
"Are you insinuating that I am courting Harper?"
"I'm not insinuating anything. I'm saying it," Tyr said calmly as he stared back.
One side of old Tyr's mouth twitched. "It would be pointless, boy. He..." Old Tyr sighed and smiled. "Harper won't stop asking me questions about you."
Tyr remained leaning against the wall for a long moment, then pushed himself off it. "The boy will forget all about it on his next shore leave."
"Is that what you want, boy?" old Tyr asked, one eyebrow raised. "You want him to forget about ever being with you again?"
"It's for the best, old man. I will take a wife regardless of his feelings," Tyr said softly.
"You still think you can seize control of the Andromeda from Dylan," old Tyr said, looking down at the can of Sparky Cola that was slowly warming in his hand.
Tyr studied his older self with narrowed eyes. "Of course. What does that have to do with Harper?"
"Harper will never betray Dylan or Beka. You should know that by now." Old Tyr looked up from the can he was slowly turning around in his hand. "His loyalty is not the kind that can be bought; it can only be earned."
"You think that boy could stop me?"
"No, but he'll die trying."
"It won't come to that," Tyr said uncertainly.
"You seriously think he won't sacrifice himself to save his friends, even if it means going up against you?" Old Tyr levelled a piercing stare on his younger self.
Looking away nervously, Tyr felt the steel walls around his heart suddenly rupture. He punched the bulkhead in frustration. "I have priorities, old man, a duty to the future of Kodiak Pride."
"Fredrick Nietzche was a wise man about many things, but he was only human."
"To indulge in idle pleasure at the expense of survival is suicide," Tyr spat.
"To quote an old companion of ours, there's more than one way to skin a cat." Old Tyr smiled. "The future of Kodiak Pride does not rest on your need to find a wife unless you insist on it."
"Genetic manipulation?" Tyr asked contemptuously.
Shaking his head slightly, old Tyr chuckled. "To hide behind the beliefs of others at the expense of your own survival or happiness is cowardice. We're Nietzcheans, we are genetic manipulation refined to its ultimate potential."
"If that's the best you can up with, then you are an old fool," Tyr sneered before he stomped away.
Old Tyr watched his angry younger self hurry away before he looked back down at the can in his hand. "Keep telling yourself that, boy," he murmured to himself.
***
The elderly blue Than trilled a soft sigh as she sat across from the two humans in a seedy bar on the Spinel Drift. Sifting through the mass of flexes in front of her, Song of the Crystal Resonance picked up one that depicted the Massacre of Nanjing-Shanghai. "The evidence you have presented is horrifying, indeed. However, I still fail to see why the Than Hegemony should siphon off desperately needed fighter production to your resistance movement."
Harper turned to look at his companion, one of Uncle Sid's agents, who slumped further into his chair. Harper looked back at Song of the Crystal Resonance. "Because we'll use them to attack the Drago Kasov. Supporting the HLA means supporting guerilla attacks against Drago Kasov, which means they'll have fewer ships to threaten the Than Hegemony with."
Song of the Crystal Resonance nodded slightly and turned to the slouching human next to Harper. "And your employer can guarantee payment on delivery if fighters were to become available?"
"Absolutely," the man said, sitting up.
"And what of your leader, Captain Hunt?" she asked, turning back to Harper. "Will the Andromeda Ascendant and his second Commonwealth also be aiding your resistance movement?"
Harper squirmed on his chair. "Dylan doesn't know anything about this, and I'd like to keep it that way. It's why I arranged to meet you while I was away from the Andromeda."
Song of the Crystal Resonance tilted her head slightly in confusion. "You are ashamed of your actions in trying to liberate your homeworld?"
"No," Harper said loudly, then glancing quickly around the bar. He continued more quietly. "It's just... Dylan's got some funny idea about bringing the Niets into the Commonwealth and I don't..."
"You don't trust him?" Song of the Crystal Resonance asked curiously.
Harper looked down at his hands briefly. "I want to, but this is just too important to everyone. I can't risk Dylan trying to be all noble about it and doing something stupid like trying to talk the Dragons into freeing Earth."
Nodding her head again Song of the Crystal Resonance twitched her mandibles sympathetically. "I must agree, we have learnt to our great pain that Nietzcheans can not be trusted to honour any agreement. This is most unfortunate and reflects poorly on his overtures to the Than Hegemony to join his Commonwealth."
"Does that mean you won't talk to your people about supporting the HLA by selling us military equipment?" Harper's companion asked nervously.
"No," she said to the other human. "You have convinced me of your sincerity in wishing to free your homeworld. I will speak with others on your behalf. Please remember, however, that I am not of the ruling caste and have little influence over their decisions regarding military matters."
Harper felt uncomfortable as the Than and Uncle Sid's errand boy talked details, and he looked around the bar guiltily. He felt the blood drain from his face when he saw Trance sitting over at the bar looking straight at him with a raised eyebrow as she sipped on a large, colourful cocktail.
"Look, I've gotta go. Been away from the Maru for too long as it is. It's been real great to meet you, Song of the Crystal Resonance." To Uncle Sid's agent, Harper said, "I'll be in touch through the usual channels."
***
Harper kept sneaking glances at Trance as they walked through the hanger deck towards the Maru, trying to work out what she knew.
When Harper glanced at her again, Trance sighed. "Harper, are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"What are you talking about, Trance? We got the parts that Dylan sent us here for, no problem," he said nervously as he sped up.
"Beka won't be happy about your involvement with Uncle Sid, Harper. You know what he did the last time we ran into him," Trance said, increasing her pace to keep up.
Pulling to a stop near the engines of the Maru, Harper straightened his spine. "Trance, this has nothing to do with Beka or anyone else on the Andromeda."
"Tell that to Rommie, Harper."
He winced. "You know about that."
"You should tell Dylan what you're doing."
"I can't Trance," he said sadly. "I can't risk him trying to stop me."
"Harper..." she began, tail twitching violently behind her.
"No, Trance. There's nothing more to talk about, and you have to promise me not to tell anyone about what you think you know," Harper said angrily as he grabbed Trance's shoulders.
"Let me go, Harper."
Harper let go abruptly and rubbed the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry, but you can't tell them, Trance. Too many lives are at stake."
Trance looked at Harper for a long time, searching for something only she could see, then nodded slowly.
Harper smiled, taking what he could get, and gestured ahead. "Your carriage awaits, my lady."
"This isn't over, Harper."
Harper breathed out in relief before he jogged after her up the access ramp. "I just need more time, Trance. I promise to tell Dylan everything, just...later, okay?"
As Harper closed the access ramp and started to prep the Maru for take off, Trance took her station. "You can trust Dylan, Harper. Just don't take too long before you realise that."
Harper jumped into the Pilot's chair, leaned his head back at Trance, and smiled. "Thanks."
Before Trance could do more than smile back, she heard the door to the bridge open, and a shadowy figure strode arrogantly onto the Maru's bridge. Gerentex.