Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they just followed me home. Can I keep them? Can I? Can I? Please!

Rated NC: 17 for sex and language.

Parings: Tyr/f and implied Tyr/Harry.

Tyr Anasazi stared out the cockpit portal of the Eureka Maru and watched as the planet Libra X got smaller and smaller, farther and farther away. For a brief second he thought how easy it would be to not return to the Andromeda, to set off alone on new adventures unencumbered by the complex relationships both with those on the warship or on this now miniscule planet.

The two men he had just returned to the world of books and celibate librarians had definitely knocked a few chinks out of his Nietzschean armor. Cold logic could not explain ancient gods and immortals. It was easier when he thought it was just a game Harry was playing with his mind; a game he had willingly joined in hope that he would have a lot of fun while playing and eventually win. Evan was different. He didn't play, at least with him; and he was always willing to tell you more even if you didn't want to know. Evan and Harry needed to be together now to do whatever men of their kind did in private, and Tyr had to reexamine himself and his role as an Alpha Nietzschean male.

He was not comfortable being alone on the ship. Nietzscheans traveled in prides. Even humans around him made him more comfortable. He knew basically the Maru could fly itself once it had left the confines of Libra X's gravitational pull, but insisted on staying on the bridge, checking the readouts, and watching space pass by.

There was a strange feeling crawling down his spine. He wondered if it were just a primal Nietzschean reaction to the separation from his friend and lover, or if it was something else. What if there was someone else on the ship, someone who had come aboard on Libra X? He tried not to panic, and carefully looked around. The presence grew stronger.

"I know that you are here. If you don't want me to kill you, when I do find you and I assure you that I will, show yourself now."

He continued down the hall and around the corner. "I don't believe you understand. I am a Nietzschean. I have a weapon. I will use it on YOU if you don't show yourself."

"Oh, I understand alright, I just need to see for myself how big and bad you really are," a calm female voice replied. He followed the voice with his eyes without turning his head. A tall, dark skinned woman was leaning against a weapon's case at the end of the hall. It was hard to not notice how she was dressed. A short, cut-off chainmail shirt with nothing underneath -- his enhanced Nietzschean eyesight noticed her erect nipples -- and a pair of leather pants that she might have been able to wear ten years ago, when she was a teenager, but now were basically slit and tied to her body. Only after a few seconds of contemplation did he notice her natural hair circling her face like a cloud and her broad smile.

"Well, you certainly don't lie," she purred like the large cat she resembled.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" The only thing worse than being alone was being in the company of those you did not trust.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was a pirate? Actually, I'm just catching a ride off that god-forsaken rock."

He had missed one thing in his visual analysis of the woman. Bone spurs. She was a Nietzschean.

"Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria by Barbarossa -- Kodiak Pride."

"Well, I'll be damned. I didn't think there were any of us left, Joan D'Arc out of Portia by Canute, but don't you dare call me joni. Most people call me WH, for Witchhead."

"Like the Nebula?" Tyr asked, and thought 'and the battle.'

"Right?"

Tyr was impressed by her attitude. He couldn't believe she was actually a Kodiak. She could be an assassin. She could be a Drago-Katsov trying to find him and the remains of the progenitor. She could be a hijacker.

"So what were you doing on Libra X, and why are you leaving so abruptly?"

"The man I wanted so see wasn't there. I was willing to wait, but let's say his fellow librarians didn't trust me around their treasures."

"You weren't looking of a Mr. Hopewell, were you?"

"Why?" It was obvious she was.

"Just missed him, dropped him off about a half-hour before I left. Librarians don't want me around much either. Think it is something about us Nietzscheans and our love of books."

* * * * *

The night before.

Tyr paced back and forth trying to find words to respond. He knew Andromeda must have been listening and wondered if she was now going to run and spill the whole story, told to him in private, to Dylan. He looked again at the two men who had just told him the incredible revelation.

"So who is going to tell him? One of us, all of us, or are we just going to rely on the ship to do it?" Tyr asked his companions.

"I doubt if Rommie will say anything to him. She has her own issues with Dylan. Don't know about Andromeda though? Quite honestly, I don't know how you can differentiate them in your thoughts, Tyr?" Evan Hopewell spoke quietly to the brooding Nietzschean.

"I'm not going to do it. I don't believe it." It was that voice in Harry's head, he knew was Andromeda. He wondered if the others heard it too or if it was just something he as a god shared.

"Christ, you just spend a hour trying to get me to differentiate between Gods, demi-gods and just plain immortals and you can't . . ."

"We didn't say it was going to be easy to understand, just that it was true. Now you know why I haven't told you earlier. It was too intense to try sober; too complicated to try drunk." Harry wished he were drunk now. "Did you think I was lying when I told you I was the God of War?"

Tyr shook his head. He, too, had heard Andromeda in his head, and agreed with her. He didn't think Harry was lying; he just didn't believe the truth. A true Nietzschean could never believe a story like that.

"I cannot fathom that Dylan knows he is immortal. But…it certainly would explain some of the downright stupid things he has done in the past. It makes me wonder what he thinks of my life, since I was with him several of those times." Tyr continued.

"He does recognize both of us, in his own way, but I don't think my brother would keep quiet about the immortality thing. I know he wouldn't jeopardize your life, Tyr, he's just that fucking much of a hero."

"Let me make a note to myself," Tyr said cynically," do not go on suicide missions with an immortal or a fucking hero."

"There's even more we haven't told you, Tyr. Do you want me to continue?" Evan asked.

Tyr was convinced Evan just liked hearing himself talk. Harry would have been content to dismiss the librarian, to move the meeting to someplace more private, and to continue communication on a more personal level. He wished Evan would get the hint.

"You mean about the King. Harry told me about him. What can I say about that? After all I didn't expect or want a five-thousand year old virgin."

Harry smiled sheepishly, burying his face in his fists. He, too, had enough of this verbal communication for one day.

"No there is even more, Harry doesn't even know this."

The hard looks that followed that response led Evan to believe that this was not the time to share any more stories. Being privy to the secrets of the world was not always easy. Tonight the two lovers needed time alone. He could tell Ares when they got to Libra X.

* * * * * *

He tried to ignore her, but it was not easy to ignore a member of your own pride, let alone a woman with a body, so plainly revealed, that was as perfect a specimen of genetic engineering as his own. It was also interesting to note that his genetic heritage, which he had been actively denying over the past few months, seemed to be alive, well, and causing his cock to press hard against the leather of his pants. He knew that if the woman wanted to breed, he would have to have sex with her, but at least he could respond out of pleasure and not of duty.

"Well?" Again it was that panther lapping milk quality in her voice that could distract him with a single word.

"What?" Short, terse, no sign of interest.

"I was wondering how long it will be before this barge can go on auto-pilot and we can have some, shall I call it, meaningful discussion."

"As if you haven't noticed, this ship is not really engineered to be flown without a pilot. Usually it has a crew of at least three. My attention is required at all times." He wondered if he was lying out of self-preservation or fear.

"Well in that case, big guy, I guess we'll see how you function while being distracted." She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. It had been a long time since he had seen Nietzschean breasts, and those of Charlemagne's sister offered little competition. Graphs, dials and printouts before him on the control panel were not in the running for his attention either.

"Slow down, slow down. In about three hours we enter an area of space which has been identified as a "virtual sleep zone." I can reasonably allow the ship to pilot itself for the next five or six hours."

"Who wants to sleep? Who wants to wait? I sure don't."

"I have no desire to have my next son or daughter conceived on the corrugated metal floor of the Eureka Maru. I'm sorry, we have plenty of time for this later."

"Who for God's sake, said I had any interesting in conceiving a son or a daughter."

"Oh, you're one of THOSE." The word slipped out of his mouth, the Nietzscheans looked upon women who could not have children with great contempt. He shuddered to when he realized that many women would say the same thing about him if they knew about his relationship with Harry.

"No, I'm 100% Nietzschean Alpha female. I guess there are no Beta's in our pride anymore."

"And I am an Alpha male. My DNA is good enough for the women of several other prides, why isn't it good enough for a Kodiak. I would think you would be considering it your lucky day."

"Well, I believe I am lucky; but I'm not looking to breed. It's just at this time and place in my life I have no interest in caring for children, and since I have no mothers, grandmothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, sorority members, neighbors, or au pair assistants, a child would not be something I would relish having around. I would, however, greatly relish the taste of real Nietzschean cum in my mouth, and am willing to kneel on the metal floor to get it."

She had already opened the front of his leather pants. He was astonished at how quickly his cock had popped out, and thankful that the damage to his genetic imprinting had not been serious. Her soft full lips were already around its head, trembling slightly. No tongue, no mouth, just lips, gradually moving farther and farther up the shaft, until he sensed the contact with the back of her mouth and the loosening of her throat. He was amazed that a Nietzschean woman would have this much skill at an act she normally would rarely called upon to perform. Perhaps it was because of the life this woman had led, or perhaps it was another of those strange little tricks of the genetic engineers.

She was either breathing through her nose or already gone into anti-breathing mode. At least he thought so until the warmth of her breath began to brush against his penis. Warmth, hell, it was heat. Then with that cool, rough catlike tongue he knew she had to possess; she began to make little licking moves. He didn't know how long he could hold back; he tried to concentrate on the control panel in front of him. It reminded him of the story Harry had told about. . . He had to stop thinking of that man and concentrate on the woman kneeling before him.

Her eyes were closed. She seemed to be lost in a world he had not been a part of for a long, long time. He wondered what she might be thinking, or whom she might be thinking about. He ran his hands through her hair, tangling his fingers in the loose curls. He wished she wanted a child. He would like to have a dark skinned child like her, like himself. He knew his children had to be pale and blond, they would never be true Kodiaks.

A simple push of a lock button allowed him to lean back on the control panel without fear of disengagement, while she continued. . . .Tyr was aware that his refusal to think of things that would block the pleasure he was now receiving would make it impossible for him to delay his orgasm much longer. Mere self-control was not enough as he shot his cum into her throat. She allowed him to grow smaller in her mouth, and began a more active patter with her tongue. He pushed her away.

"Not now. This is not the most comfortable of positions, we only have a little while longer to wait." He pulled her up and kissed her on the mouth. He was used to cum flavored kisses, but not without Benedictine.

He transversed the next section of space with her sitting naked on his leather clad knee while his hands caressed her full breasts. Tyr loved skin, and hers was as fine as it came. Time seemed to be her friend and his enemy -- space was indifferent.

* * * * * * *

'I'm going to owe Beka Valentine big time for forgetting to lock to the door to her quarters,' Tyr thought as they entered the Captain's room. Crew quarters on the Maru had narrow bunks with little headroom, but Beka had a nice soft bed with dark blue sheets with small stars on them. He knew she often slept in this bed rather than her quarters on the Andromeda.

"This is Captain Valentine's room," Tyr explained to his companion.

"Your Captain has a lot of women that self-pleasure themselves in his bed?" she asked mildly amused at the affairs of human men.

"Captain Valentine is a woman, and I have no personal knowledge of what she does in this or any other bed. I just hope she won't mind." He was glad they had not gone to the crew's quarters. Her sensitivity to smells would have revealed the actions of Harry and himself, and probably Evan's self pleasuring, and at the least would have required a complicated false explanation. Realistically it would have ended the evening's activities.

His companion pulled the top sheet and comforter off the bed and dropped them on the floor.

"I like to be on top, these just get in the way."

Tyr reached down and hooked an arm under her knees and another under her back. Lifting her up he dropped her on the bed with a bounce,

"You are going to be on the bottom until I say you can be on the top. Understand?"

"Don't get rough with me."

"Who says anything about being rough." He pulled his hair behind his back and began to explore with his mouth the breasts with which his hands had already become well acquainted. Skin. Nietzschean skin. Black Nietzschean skin. He knew there were many more tones and flavors on her body, tastes he had not savored in a long, long time.

"I used to be a chef," he muttered as he moved his mouth lower. "A perfect blend of tart and sweet, salt and acid. . . . and his words became incomprehensible.

* * * * * *

He awoke with alarm in a room that looked as if it had been ransacked. The woman had obviously not believed the truth that the ship was not his and that the quarters he was using belonged to Beka Valentine. Despite the fact that he knew she had found nothing, he hated himself for being so vulnerable. Passing out after sex was something that should be reserved for those you trusted. What had Harry done to his survival skills?

She came out of Beka's bathroom, naked with a towel wrapped around her hair, and sat on the foot of the bed. She pulled off the comforter that she had tucked around him before she had left, exposing him naked and once again erect.

"Well, Tyr, I'm washed, waxed, puffed, fluffed, spritzed, sizzled, plucked, and . . ."

"Please, be so kind as to NOT inform me as to the details involved with those procedures." Tyr pulled the top sheet over him. "And what, pray tell me, were you looking for in Captain Valentine's room?"

"Underwear."

"Underwear?"

"You know panties, step-ins, bloomers, knickers, something to protect my best leather pants from crotch rot."

"If those Ms. D'Arc are your best leather pants, I would hate to see those you wear for less formal occasions."

"So, they're my only pants. What in the fuck do you care? You got into them?"

"An act, which if I remember correctly, you were all too eager to assist, aid and abet"

"During which time, if I remember correctly, you told me you used to be a chef. So if you are not going to fuck me again, at least I'm expecting a good breakfast, Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria by Barbarossa." She flashed a white toothy smile and removed the towel from her head. He thought Dylan Hunt was the only one who liked to do that snapping thing with a towel.

* * * * *

Tyr considered himself fortunate that Harry and Evan, while drinking all the beer and eating all the snack food, had left fresh fruit and juice for the morning's breakfast. He even found some little packets of dried grain that could be cooked into a porridge and seasoned with honey, butter and sesame seeds. While most humans looked at hot cereal with disdain, it was still highly rated by Nietzscheans. He could tell it had been a while since Ms. D'Arc had eaten real Nietzschean food.

"I'd love to continue this breakfast, but I have a ship to fly. We should be meeting up with the Andromeda in less than an hour. I need to have some idea where you will be going next, so that we can make arrangements to take you there. Other than that, I have only one question, why were you looking for Evan Hopewell?"

It was only on this trip that he began to understand the complexity of the little man. He had always thought of him as a semi-comic relief in the vastness of space. A boy-toy that the female crew members, and possibly Dylan, enjoyed having around. He suddenly realized that everything he was thinking also applied to Harper. He tried to imagine Evan tinkering with books and knowledge; the same way Harper tinkered with tools and pieces of space junk.

What if the undefined force that controlled the universe had appointed this talkative little man the keeper of ancient mysteries? He wondered if he had the body of a small African monkey woman -- the human progenitor -- hidden someplace in storage. But Evan wouldn't need a body; all he needed was a story written in one of his many books.

'Was this woman merely looking for a man to satisfy her now sated sexual desires?' That idea was probably too flattering to both Evan and himself, and he quickly dismissed it. What did she need to know? Tyr was torn between the desire to find out and the need to get to the control room.

"I do have to go, do you care to walk with me? I really would like to know."

"As I said earlier, which you may or may not have believed, I am a pirate. Sometimes in addition to metals and jewels, I find documents. Librarians buy documents, and Evan Hopewell buys the best documents. I need to strike a deal."

"A deal? For what Ms. D'Arc?"

"A little piece of shall we call it "literature" I found on one of my forays. I believe that it is a very important link in the histories of several species."

Tyr noticed that she was aware of the fact that his eyes were growing wide and questioning, as they walked together down the long silent hallway.

"Stop salivating, it has nothing to do with the remains of the Progenitor, Drago Museveni. It has to do with Ares, the Greek God of War."

McJude

February 27, 2002
 
 

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