Another dark bar with more loud music, Harry Wagner had inwardly hoped for generations that eventually there would be a place in the universe that moved past this antiquated model for gathering in groups or meeting strangers, but as of yet he had not found it. He was a god, he could go anywhere, and yet he always seemed to end up where his mortal friends wanted to be -- places he would never choose of his own accord. If you didn't have a palace like Iphicles or even a house, you always ended up in a bar or tavern. It was just that they got darker and louder as the centuries passed. The "people" there seemed to get stranger, too.

He inched one step closer to Tyr, who was standing drink a beer at the bar. The other members of the Andromeda crew where scattered around the place, including the woman Joan D'Arc who most of the night assumed the position of a permanent fixture at Tyr's side. Harry didn't really want to create a scene, or for that matter have anyone notice, he just thought it was time to talk to his lover, or was it former lover, now?

"She looks like fun," he breathed the comment without changing the statement on his face.

"Yes." He should have known Tyr would not be talking much; Nietzscheans had taken non-commitment to an art form.

"So I take it you've had a pleasant transit." He wanted to scream, 'Please talk to me.'

"Yes, very pleasant."

"Knock her up yet?" He tried hard to keep the smirk from growing. Through centuries of experience he knew men with pregnant wives were ripe for his picking. Especially for someone like Tyr with his genetic respect for his children and his love for rough sex, a pregnant wife would be treated more like a goddess than a play toy, and then a god could be quickly substituted in her place.

"No."

"I certainly hope it isn't because the lubricant you used damaged your valuable Nietzschean sperm." He winced with a look of mock-pain. Nietzschean women seemed to be able to be impregnated almost at will. Part of him actually worried that he might have done something to damage Tyr's ability to father children.

Harry stood mute, nursing his drink, waiting for Tyr to direct his attention to other than the tall dark-skinned Nietzschean woman who had rejoined him at his side. Harry was impressed with her physical attributes. She was certainly more exciting than the small pale woman from the Jaguar pride who was the mother of his namesake; but after three months of her being with Tyr, Harry was beginning to feel a little jealous. In fact, they were only together tonight because Evan had become restless for a little fun with Beka, Rommie, or was it Dylan and suggested that they join the Andromeda crew at their next stop.

Three months on a celibate planet, trying hard to respect the ground rules, despite the huge collections of pornography in Evan Hopewell's curatorship had been extremely difficult for the God of War. He found himself reading books, not just those about war and sex, but others that he never dreamed he would be reading. It didn't work; studying history and philosophy or reading plays and poetry did not ease his longing for Tyr. He was most grateful when the woman Tyr called D'Arc left with Trance and Rommie to do whatever women do in restrooms of bars.

Moving the long braided hair ever so slightly out of the way, he touched Tyr gently on the neck. He really wanted to kiss him, plunder his mouth with his tongue and find those places where memories of the dark woman lived and erase them. It bothered him greatly that the rampant heterosexual hormones that he usually had found so attractive in most men were causing pain in his relationship with Tyr. His lover's fulfillment of his genetic destiny, doing what he was designed to the best, was creating a form of agony. He hated himself for feeling that way.

"Do you love her?" He wasn't sure if Tyr would read those words as a paraphrase of those he had said to him that night in bed in Seolfor or as an attempt by him to pry into his private relationships.

"Yes." Was that an affirmative response, or just a Nietzschean answer to the fact that he had heard the question and chose not to answer. There were some nuances of the Nietzschean mode of communication that were difficult for Harry to understand.

"Does this mean we are over?" Harry waited for an answer. None came. Tyr stood silently looking past the reflections in the mirror over the bar, past the reflection of the large dark man with tears in the corners of his eyes. He moved his arm back slightly and gently touched the front of Harry's leather pants with the bone spur on the outside of his wrist. Harry relaxed and smiled slightly. Tyr slightly dilated the pupils in his eyes; only someone as much in love as Harry could read that as a smile, especially in a reflection.

"Later, " he mouthed and walked away to play pool with Dylan and Evan.

* * * * * *

"If I had just wanted to get laid, there would have been scores of places on this drift where I could have had that need accomplished by a multitude of beings from all of the universe's species. There is even a slim possibility that I would have found someone more physically perfect than you, Tyr Anasazi. But I wanted you, understand, you."

With that comment Harry rammed his cock harder into the Nietzschean's ass. It had been a long time since he had felt that pleasant fit experiencing the smoothness and control that surely would have been designed away were it not certain connate perversions of the architects of the race. A place in his heart expressed silent thanks to them. As tiny rings of flesh moved on his penis, Harry was reminded of better days, in not that distant past, when his relationship with Tyr had been fresh and more primary. However, faced with the choice of talking or fucking, Harry opted for the second and regretted that even as god he did not have more staying power.

They had both been surprised when Joan D'Arc had feigned a headache and left to go back to the hotel. Both Harry and Evan had selected rooms in other hotels than the Andromeda crew; the group was becoming so interlocked that it would be embarrassing to pass people shifting partners in the halls. Harry of course had opted for luxury. Despite his hesitance to talk, Tyr had shown no timidity when it came to using the steam shower and cold plunge pool. He seemed to like the large, black-sheeted bed well enough, too.

It had been almost like old times. Almost, but not quite. With every act and action, Harry realized they were closer to the time when they would have to face the reality that had now become part of their world. He wondered if there was actually a "their" world anymore, or if it were just "the world."
 

Tyr rolled on his side and looked him in the eye. Harry reached, to touch his face and pull him into a kiss, but the Nietzschean shook his head. He slipped his hand under Tyr's hair and softly touched the back of his neck.

"It would be easier, Harry, if I didn't love you so god damn much." Harry couldn't believe what Tyr had just said. He had known he loved Tyr, but the words had never been said back to him. He was willing to accept verbal silence; Tyr's actions had always spoken loudly enough.

"All of my life I have been taught one thing. I am the Alpha male. I am the only Alpha male of my until-recently-believed extinct pride. My role is to father children so that my genes are passed on, so that I have a future. I am mortal, Harry, some day I am going to die."

"Not for a very, very long time, I hope."

"You can't determine that. And right now, except for some little blonde rug rat named Ares and possibly some spawn unbeknown to me, all that exists of this Alpha male is lying in this bed doing unspeakable acts."

"So that's how you view our relationship now, unspeakable?"

"I said I loved you, now shut up."

Harry wanted to grab Tyr, pull his body close to his and just savor the feeling of being together. All the sex they had shared, tonight and in the past, he would gladly trade for just holding Tyr near to him right now. He knew it was not going to happen.

"So why isn't she pregnant? That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Frankly that is none of your business. It certainly isn't because we haven't . . . no, Harry, I'm not going to lie. It's because she doesn't want to have a child right now. She's as alone in the universe as I am."

"You're not alone, Tyr, you have me."

"And that I should look upon as reassuring?"

"Sorry, I really have a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time tonight, haven't I?"

"If I answered that question, I would be stooping to your level."

Tyr closed his eyes, as if reading from a carefully crafted notes engraved on the back of his eyelids. Harry realized that Tyr had had a lot of time to plan what he was going to say, and fortunately, he had had the same amount of time to prepare his reactions. It was another game, and it was going to be another standoff. Harry wished it would get over and they could get back to fucking.

"She knows something about you. Something in a scroll."

"And what do you suppose that would be, Tyr?"

"Knowing you it could be anything. I keep telling myself that it is probably something innocuous like the fact that god of war is real."

"That would shock enough people, wouldn't it, especially Nietzscheans. Do you think they would be doubly shocked if they knew he fucked men? One of their Alpha males? What would your lover say?"

"Please, Harry, let's not talk about that part of it. It is something I choose to keep private. But I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, is there something more that you haven't told me?"

"Of course there are things I haven't told you, Tyr. I've been alive for over 5,000 years. Do you realize how long it would take me to tell you even the things I am proud of, or for that matter even the things I remember? That's not what our relationship is about. It's about now and us."

"She wants to sell it to Evan Hopewell."

"That's fine. I trust Evan. He'll pay what she wants, do what it what he feels right, but he's not going to hurt me. Evan is my friend."

Silence again enveloped them. Harry wondered if Tyr, who trusted no one except himself, could ever understand the deep trust he had for Evan. Few men had ever shown his loyalty and bravery. It wasn't every millenium that a man actually earned his immortality.

Harry placed his hands gently on Tyr's shoulders and once again tried to pull him toward him. This time Tyr relented slightly, allowing their bodies to touch. Harry dropped his arm, placing it under Tyr's and rested his hand on the Nietzschean's buttocks. He stroked softly with his thumb and contemplated what he should try to do next.

"Perhaps you should talk to Evan about juggling sexual partners. He seems to have a knack for it." Harry realized as soon as he finished, that that statement could be added to the list of other stupid things he had said to Tyr that night.

"He lives most of the time on a celibate planet. I don't think there are many who would pay the price of admission to that show. Furthermore, I don't see an overabundance of Hopewell genes in the universe."

"You really do want a family, a pride, don't you?"

"Do you think I would betray my genes? If you do, than you really don't know me, Harry Wagner."

"I'm sorry, I guess I am too much in love to listen. Aren't we both sorry excuses for tough men?

Shit, Tyr, what are we going to do." Harry knew Tyr could see the tears in his eyes.

"For the future I have no idea, but for right now, perhaps I could fuck you. Do you have any of our special lube?"

"Am I the God of War, or what?"

* * * * * * *

"Take your clothes off." A naked Joan D'Arc stood before Evan Hopewell in his hotel room.

He wondered if this was part of an erotic dream or a nightmare; but life had told Evan that when an attractive woman tells you to disrobe, you usually do it without many questions.

"This is not a sexual thing. It is an old Nietzschean tradition. It says, 'I am coming to you honestly, with nothing to hide. We have to discuss something of the greatest importance.' This is how Nietzscheans guarantee the truth."

Evan was sure he couldn't hide much standing talking to this naked lady, especially the effect she was having on him.

"I can't believe it. You look so damn much like Nebula. It's impossible for you to realize how much you look like her."
 

"I see it in your dick, blondie, but I can assure you I am nobody but Joan D'Arc out of Portia by Canute. Who again do you think I am?"

"Just an old, old lover. The one who gave me this." He showed her the scar over his heart.

"She must have been one mean bitch, not at all like me." She laughed a hearty laugh. He liked women who laughed.

"Long story, and if you are not her, probably not worth telling." Evan didn't like that story much especially the part where he died for the last time.

"Yea, I certainly didn't come here to tell stories."

"And from what you told me, despite the fact that you are naked and I am naked, you didn't come here to fuck either."

"Someone can't pull one over on you very easily can they?"

"Not in a long time, joni. Not in a long time."

"I want to deal. Totally honest and above board. I have something I want you to see."

"And for this I got naked."

"For this I shaved my legs, forget it were even. It's Nietzschean protocol."

She walked to her bag and pulled out a small scroll yellowed with age. "Read this and tell me what you think it is worth." She handed it to him. Evan extracted his glasses from his jacket pocket and flopped on the bed, on his stomach, to read the scroll.

"So, what do you think?" She asked after a certain period of time.

"Still reading. It's been a long time since I have read scrolls written in this script."

Joan hovered over him; he could smell nervousness in her body, but was unsure if the tension was sexual or caused by concern over the scroll. She knelt on her hands and knees beside him looking at the scroll as if she could actually read the language in which it was written. He knew she couldn't; no one had used it for almost five thousand years.

"What is it? Is it valuable? I know it is about Ares, God of War."

"How, can you read this?"

"No, but I recognize his sign. I used to know a Dragon who had a tattoo with his sign."

"Oh, he's still popular, even with certain Nietzscheans."

"He didn't know what it was, I only know because I looked it up. He just thought it made him look big and bad."

He pulled her down on her stomach on the bed. She seemed not to be bothered when his left arm slid down and rested on her firm round ass.

"See, here, this text. It talks about the God of War and his lover Xena. That's how we know it is a fake. Sorry to disappoint you, Ms. D'Arc, but what you have here is a stage prop. I think it was used on a television show back in the late 20th century and probably purchased by an excited collector. It is in excellent condition and probably has value as a relic, but as far as the matter asserted, it has very little value."

"What? You mean I don't have an authentic Xena scroll?"

"I didn't say that. It's about as authentic a Xena scroll as you are going to get, except Xena is some made up character, created by television producers. It appears to be an authentic television prop, as I said."

"What about Ares, god of war, he's real isn't he? Doesn't that make this worth something?"

"Of course not, not in other than a spiritual sense. Gods were creation of mankind. Don't you think humans could have engaged in war without the help of a god? You certainly didn't pay a lot of attention to those Nietzschean books they made you read in school, did you? If you take it out on the open market, maybe you could get a little more, but I can't offer you much at all for it."

"How much?"

The amount he quoted would buy her passage of the drift to several planets if she chose not to return to the Andromeda, or rent her an apartment here for the next year. It was more than she could get for the document on the open market.

"Are you sure that's your best offer?" She turned to him with a look that could only be taken as an open invitation from a woman naked next to you.

"I don't know, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that when you burst a girl's bubble dreams about being rich and famous, the least you could do is offer more than a few golden coins." She ran her hand slowly down his stomach, where it was going, he full well knew.

"Oh, joni, I'm so sorry about your bubble." He leaned over and kissed her. She giggled. He didn't know Nietzscheans giggled, would have to check with Harry about that. "I guess there is more for the taking, if that is what you are interested in joni. But I thought your being naked was part of an honesty protocol."

"Have you ever seen Tyr use it?"

"Not sure Tyr has ever been honest with me."

"And I have?"

"Say something honest."

"I like to be on top."

"That'll do." Evan tossed his glasses and the scroll on the floor and rolled on his back. Warm Nietzschean lips on his cock were most welcome. Deep in his being he was very glad that he was immortal, because Tyr would surely try to kill him if he knew he was about to fuck his woman. Deep in his being he was glad that the gods had no power over him, because they sure as hell would have come after him for the lies he had just told. The Nietzschean honestly protocol had no effect on immortal librarians.

* * * * *

Joan returned to the hotel room she and Tyr had planned to share that night and found it empty. She was not surprised. A Nietzschean woman learned to recognize such things. When Evan and Harry had joined their party that night, she had watched as the tall man had shook hands with her lover. For the briefest of seconds she saw a look pass between them, a look that had quickly evaporated when Tyr had introduced her to Harry, but a look she had seen and dreaded before in her life. She had stood beside him in the bar and felt Harry's breath, quick and hot, as he waited for her to leave to have his time alone with Tyr. She had heard stories about Nietzschean men, mostly engineers, who engaged in such activities, but up until tonight she had not been worried about Tyr. She should have had been, she now realized.

Had it been this jealousy that had caused her to have sex with Evan Hopewell? Was she hoping that Tyr would find out and . . . suddenly she realized that that there could be several results to that scenario none of which would be pleasant. Tyr could never find out. She wasn't going to tell him. Evan would certainly never tell him. She wondered if Evan would say something to Harry. They seemed to be friends. She wondered if they were lovers, too. This whole group seemed to have too many overlapping pairs of lovers, and she worried if she had just added to the complexity.

But, she had even more to worry about. Walking back from Evan's room she had felt a strange ping in her lower abdomen. The vigorous sexual activities she had engaged in earlier that night had caused her genetically programmed body to release an egg. Right now that egg was sitting in a pool of kludge sperm which should not pose a threat of pregnancy. But she was afraid that if Tyr returned and wanted sex, she the combination of barrier methods and holding back for the last three months might not be effective.

When Tyr did not return that night she was grateful to spend the night alone, knowing that Nietzschean eggs were ripe for impregnation for only short periods of time to narrow the risk of not knowing who the father of a child would be. She was safe again, but event the thought of the prospect of a pregnancy made her a little queasy.

She spent the day with Trance and Rommie without word from any of the others in the party. When she returned to the room in the late afternoon Tyr was asleep on the bed, naked. She watched him as he slept restlessly fisting his cock until he came in his sleep. The man was definitely feeling some sort of genetic torment ingrained in Nietzschean men.

"Wake up, sleepy head, another day is almost over, and I have yet to spend time with you."

"Sorry, D'Arc, I had too much to drink last night. I'm really sorry. Slept over at Harry's. He and I have this ongoing chess game, and I drank so much he almost beat me. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you tonight, I promise."

"Will that be before or after you change the sheets?" She stared at him with her black kohled eyes.

"See what happens when I am without you for even a short time, D'Arc. I really missed you. Dreamed about being with you. I love you."

He wasn't a good liar. She knew he was trying to protect himself, and her, from the truth. She wished that he were a better liar, but even more, she wished that he had been telling the truth. She wondered that perhaps if you repeated the same lie over and over, sooner or later people would start to believe it.

March 2002

McJude
 

 
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