By McJude

Dylan Hunt read the manifest for the third time; it still made very little sense and he debated exactly how he should proceed. He knew that members of his crew would be most unhappy about a visit to this far planet for a project that seemed totally unrelated to the stated mission of the Andromeda Ascendant. He knew Earth was still there. He knew conditions of Earth were not exactly peaceful. He knew members of his crew would not want to return to Earth or face the possible interactions with the Nietzscheans who now ruled the planet and enslaved the humans there. He wasn't sure that there still was a project to check on because the manifest was over three hundred years old. However, he knew, from reading the manifest that he had to head immediately to the portion of the planet once known as Macedonia and see for himself -- if there was anything at all there to see.

As expected neither Tyr nor Harper had taken it well. Harper had noticed immediately that the course of the ship had been altered and that the slip stream routes chosen were headed toward the planet Earth. Tyr gave it a quick thought and would have dismissed it as Dylan's prerogative were it not for the unpleasant situation with the Nietzscheans on the planet. The two crewmembers were thus quick to confront the Captain regarding the change in navigational plans.

"I'm sorry, I did not take the time to explain this to my crew, but I was afraid that it would meet with some resistance." Dylan explained. "I have before me a three-hundred-year-old message from the planet Earth, regarding an archeological expedition in Macedonia. It is just a preliminary report, but I feel compelled to at least see if it was every completed, and if completed what the results were."

"Can't you just look it up in Rommie's data bank. She's downloaded everything freaking available. Why do we have go to Earth?" Harper asked.

"I've looked, Harper. However, I believe there is a discrepancy between what those doing the dig expected to find, and what was or might have been actually found. It may have not been completed, they might have found nothing, or . . ." The captain's voice trailed off in deep thought. "I can find no records."

"Excuse me, Captain Hunt, could you elaborate further on how you would have any expectations as to what might actually be found on a planet where you have never been. What did you think they were going to find?" Tyr asked.

"It's a long story, Tyr," the captain continued.

"Long story, long story, standard Dylan Hunt answer when he doesn't want us to know, right, Tyr?"

"Harper, if the Captain believes it to be a long story, I am sure he will schedule sufficient time to relate it to us. Considering the distance to what is called 'The Solar System' I think we will have ample time to hear it with all its 'frills and ruffles' that I am sure the Captain will use as embellishments. However, I suggest that we delay this discussion until later this evening, possibly after dinner, when such myth-telling will be more appropriate."

"I appreciate that, Tyr." Dylan replied. "It will give me a little time to sort through the details. 'Frills and ruffles' are definitely not the style of this story, it's more like 'vests and gauntlets' if you get my drift."

"Holy freaking fairy tale!" Harper exclaimed as he left the bridge. He was much more comfortable with mechanics than myth.
 

The Nietzschean grabbed the captain by the front of his uniform and stared into his blue eyes.

"You realize that taking this ship back to the vicinity of Earth is going bring back very unpleasant memories for Harper. You let him down on his last visit there when he was trying to save his family, and now you are proposing that we go there because YOU want to know the results of some three hundred-year- old archeological expedition, which may or may not have been successful. This better be worth it Captain Hunt, the boy has had enough stress in his life recently, you'd better have a good reason for this. A damn good reason."

Dylan Hunt did not like to be intimidated and certainly did not like to be threatened. He did not however want to have to tell this story twice, so he merely looked up at Tyr Anasazi and mouthed a barely audible "I have, Tyr, believe me, I have. You will see."

* * * * *

"It's times like this that I could do with a nice glass of Gammal Dansk and water?" Dylan said as he pushed his chair back from the table.

"What?" Harper piped as he chugged his third glass of Sparky Cola.

"Never mind, just an old herbal remedy my mother used to serve us when our stomachs were upset. I am just afraid that this story might be upsetting to a few people, including myself. But I know you all want me to get into the reasoning behind my further exploration of this archeological site."

"That is the reason all of us have decided to forego either our jobs or personal activities for a few minutes .. or hours. I suggest you proceed and hope that you have had the time to do some editing or as we discussed this afternoon. . some tailoring." Tyr often had the feeling that he needed to help Dylan move along with his discussions.

"At the High Guard Academy," Dylan began, "each cadet had to chose a project from an area completely outside his or her specialization and do a half-year in-depth study of it. It was to teach us how to organize our day-to-day schedules and priorities as much as it was to teach us something about a new area. It takes a while to learn how to not do something that you know is important because you are supposed to be working on something that is easy to dismiss as meaningless."

"The High Guard had to teach its cadets to daydream, to fantasize. Little did they know that Dylan Hunt would learn so well that he now allows his 'I want to reshape the world' fantasy to grow to epic proportions." Tyr interjected.

"This will take even longer with editorial comment, Tyr. My project had absolutely nothing to do with either daydreaming or fantasy; it had to do with old rocks and ruins. I did a half-year excursion into writings about the discoveries of a Mel Pappas, an early 20th century archeologist from South Carolina who was convinced that there was an unrecorded event about the time of Christ that changed the role of women for the next two millennia. Something someone did that kept women out of positions of power."

"Dah, it was called motherhood. Women got pregnant, they had to stay home and take care of children while the men made war and hunted. Been that way since the cavemen." Harper said.

"But it wasn't." Dylan continued. "Ancient gravesites from stone-age times indicated that not all women stayed home in cluster groups. Sometimes groups of several men and one or two women were found together, not in home like situations but more like temporary residences. . Some of the women even had bones of children near them. There was a group found in a cave in Galilee with one woman and seven men -- not your usual 'family grouping', more likely a hunting party. Here the woman, even with a child, could have been a better hunter, so she went along."

"A lot of what you were searching for, Captain Hunt, was present in ancient myths and stories. The ancient humans had women as gods of warriors and hunters. A survey of three thousand years of literature seems like an interesting way to spend your time, while also finding time for the fucking and fighting the High Guard deemed so important for its cadets. Not to mention shopping for new accessories for your uniforms."

Dylan ignored Tyr's latest comment, and continued. "While reading the works of Dr. Pappas, I also found some writings of his daughter, who had actually gone to a site in Macedonia and recorded a story that was even more frightening than the myths I had been reading. It was just notes, but from what I gather it had something to do with the imprisonment of Ares, the Greek God of War, in a cave there. The cave was actually opened and this angry deity was about to assert himself again on the human race, but Ms. Pappas and her companions managed to re-confine him. All of this took place just prior to the start of World War II and with subsequent unrest in the area, no one ever returned to the site. It was as if it never existed."

"Dylan, did you ever watch old television shows when you were young?" Harper questioned. "Did you ever watch Xena? This was a story line: The Xena Scrolls. Are you sure you were in the right section of the High Guard library, or what did you have plugged into your neck when you were reading those papers? Sounds like you had a small problem with myth and reality."

"Of course, I know that series. It was popular with fraternity boys and lesbians, if I am not mistaken. Generated years of sub-cultural writing on the Internet because of its inherent disregard for continuity in the story line. What I am reporting, however, is from personal hand written documents which predate the series by almost a half-century.

"Nothing has ever been recorded about what happened to the Greek Gods other than the fact that people stopped believing in them. They continued to exist in story and song, but their importance faded away. Eventually the one-god concept took over the area. I am not sure whether the God of War was imprisoned before or after the Greek gods lost their power. I certainly could see why he was angry, when he was found in the 1940's, but the notes say he was not released. So we can't blame subsequent events on him.

"Perhaps there is a chance that things might have been different if he had been released. Either then or now?"

"If the gods were real, Captain Hunt? I have never seen any indication that any of the gods of the ancient cultures were actual beings. All gods existed only in the minds of those who worshiped them." Tyr said.

"The Christians believed in the concept that god could manifest himself as a living breathing person and quickly spread their belief throughout the planet. That concept was probably most responsible for the demise of the Greek and Roman gods. Yet the Greeks have many stories about children fathered by gods. The evidence of the physical presence of these gods would have been evident in the bloodlines." Dylan said.

"Or else revealed that the mother had selected an alternative "sperm source" for that particular child." Tyr smirked.

"Genetic testing would have been of great value at the time. As I suppose it would have been at the time of Christ. But genetic testing did exist on Ayn Rand Station and the Nietzscheans still hold to the concept of the Progenitor?"

"As a man, not as a god." Tyr added.

"Then why do you await his second-coming?"

Tyr had no answer. It was one of those things he had been taught but really couldn't believe. He doubted if other Nietzscheans believed it either. It was a nice story, gave comfort to children, but it really didn't matter in day-to-day life. He really wasn't interested in discussing religious theory with Dylan; the universe was a dangerous enough place without having religion as another source of conflict.

"Right now, I am not the one piloting the Andromeda Ascendant on a course to further the beliefs of my race." Tyr realized what he had just said, stopped and paused. It was important to Dylan that he knew the rest of the story. "But please tell me why we are going to Earth now, it cannot be in pursuit of some ancient religious quest?"

"I'm sorry, Tyr, I honestly don't know. I know we are not going to find god. I just need to know if this god or man in the cave was ever found, and if he was found, what happened to him. Someone has to know."

"My guess is that they freaking killed him. Those Nietzscheans wouldn't have wanted a god. . . but then on the other hand if he was the God of War maybe they have him locked up somewhere else drawing up their battle plans." Harper's concerns about actual conditions on Earth had blocked out most of the discussion.

"Hold that thought, Seamus Harper, and pray it isn't true." Dylan said, with a degree of concern.

* * * * *

"I've given this mission some more thought, Captain Hunt, as I hope you have also, and I still do not think it would be prudent to get Harper anywhere near earth. He has so many bad memories, so many things that he feels he should have done, could have done, but didn't. I don't believe he can be relied upon to follow the scope of your mission, especially considering how impractical it appears to be."

"Thank you for your input, Captain Anasazi, but this is my ship and my mission. I will take whatever crew I want wherever I deem them to be necessary. Is that clear?"

"And so. . . "

"I have decided to leave the Andromeda at the edge of the Solar System. There is altogether too much space junk, natural and man made, to attempt a closer navigation. Furthermore, there is much less chance of our arrival being detected by the resident Nietzscheans if we take the Maru.

I trust that Captain Valentine will allow the two of us to take her ship. We will leave Harper here, if it makes you feel better."

"I did not make this request for how it would make me feel. I made it for Harper."

"And who appointed you Harper's keeper?"

"I'd do the same for any of the crew members, including you, Captain Hunt. While I respect your prerogative as captain of the Andromeda to take this ship wherever you desire for whatever purpose, I cannot stand idly by and watch unnecessary suffering be brought on a friend unless I know it is for a greater purpose."

"Tyr, that is exactly why we are going to Macedonia."

The captain walked away. He had actually thought that Tyr would have been seduced by the excitement of the recovery of the God of War. Maybe he should have made the existence and relationship of this god clearer to him. Yet, Tyr's assumption of the role of protector of his crew was most welcome. Even if he couldn't express true loyalty to the mission, his loyalty to the crew was still very valuable.

* * * *

The scars left by the last war were deep and unhealed. This time both sides had lost, and it was obvious that the land that had been fought over for centuries had not recovered. Harper, who never ventured far out of the cities of earth, had told them how he remembered the first time that he had looked back at the blue and green planet and was shocked to see the large areas of brown. Macedonia was now brown and black edged by the blue of the sea. Radiation levels were indicated as high. Dylan again questioned why he should land there. Why he should be looking for the remains of a myth or a person who had been dead for centuries? He was grateful that there was no welcoming party, either human or Nietzschean indicating at least to him that the war over that section of the Earth was considered over.
 

He shuddered as he looked at the control panels. The life sign sensors indicated exactly what Dylan had expected, that someone was alive inside a mountain. One person. The same sensors that had indicated the presence of the Andromeda on the edge of the black hole were indicating another life form for which no one had searched for centuries. He didn't want to believe it. He was afraid that he was going to be forced to believe.

"The myths that survive are those that are based on underlying truths. Those that spring fully formed from a human mind are eventually relegated to the realm of fiction. I am certain that Captain Valentine was aware of fictional stories of people being trapped in time. I am, also, most grateful that she did not dismiss such stories as myth, and that her crew did not try to convince her otherwise. I must do the same with the man I believe to be trapped there." Dylan felt these words of explanation were as much for him as they were for Tyr.

"But this isn't a Black Hole, my captain, it is a cave on a planet that has been a source of many if not all of the myths that exist in the universe. Basic physics and physiology would call to question the survivability of an individual in a closed environment for more than a few days or months. Eventually an individual dies, either of lack of food, water or air, or because body exceeds its natural life expectancy. To what might you attribute the presence of one solitary individual in a location that it looks as if no one has been for a long, long time."

"I guess I have to believe that he is a god, Tyr. I don't have another answer."

"And you are willing to risk the lives of your crew for him?" Tyr asked.

"That's why just the two of us came."

"I don't know about you, Captain Hunt. But my life is very valuable to me. Please tell me again, why are we doing this."

"I have to, Tyr, he is my brother, and I have absolutely no idea how I am going to get him out, unless I have someone with me who can help."

* * * * *

Tyr had dismissed the Captain's last statement as one made under great stress. Once in a while Dylan would say something like that about his past and his abilities, but he had observed that the Captain usually was quite thorough in his planning. The High Guard had done itself proud in the selection and training of Dylan Hunt, although it seemed his excursion into the world of archeology and mythology had had a more lasting effect than had been planned. Having a mother who had exposed her fascination with past beliefs in the naming of her first son; Tyr had learned to live with the idea of mythology. He did not want to engage in discussions about it with Captain Hunt for fear that his understanding might be perceived as a source of a possible weakness, but he knew of what the Captain spoke and feared.

Harper had assisted in a geological assessment of the mountains in the area and they had decided that the caves were those carved by underground streams through layers of limestone and sandstone rather than the caves produced by the outpouring of volcanic lava. Such caves while better equipped to sustain life over long periods of time because of the availability of water and air, were inherently less stable and not good candidates for blasting into with the weapons on the Maru. A hit in the wrong place could cause the entire structure to collapse and kill, not release, the person trapped there. However, the fact that the structure has sustained years of earthquakes and other natural disasters not to mention several centuries of warfare and modern weapons would lead one to believe that perhaps it was stronger than would have been indicated by its morphology. Something again, that Captain Hunt would probably attribute to the fact that it held a god.

* * * * *

"Surely if this cave has held him for what most people would consider an eternity, it has to rely on something to keep him there other than the physical structure of the rocks. Wasn't moving mountains one of the skills the ancient gods possessed?" Tyr asked.

"Were it not for the fact that I never know when I am going to have to rely on a strong body in addition to a strong mind, I would have left you back on the Andromeda and brought either Trance or Beka. I do not need your constant attempts at enlightenment. I am trying to figure out this one as we go along, because I have very little to go by.

"I know that whatever held him has held him securely since the time of Christ until approximately 1940 - Earth time." Dylan continued. "Dr. Pappas's report contains mention of a mechanical dial-type lock controlling access to the cave. That should be simple enough to solve. However, the only mention I have of the actual awakening and release of the god was gleaned from the daughter's writing and echoed in the television show. Two parts of a device called a chakram must be re-united and that weapon thrown at a representation of the Eye of Hephaestus to release Ares. You are my weapon's expert."

"I am sorry Captain Hunt, but I have never encountered a chakram. I am not familiar with the term."

"I trust you will be able to discern its use. There's more, too, but it may be myth. I'm hoping that knowing as much as I do we can sort of fudge it."

"Fudge?" Tyr asked.

"You know, sweet chocolate concoction with nuts and marshmallows."

"Not marshmallows. I hate marshmallows!"

"Me, too." Dylan said with a smile.

The two bonded in laughter, then reverted to silence as they climbed the mountain to the area where Dr. Pappas had indicated the opening of the cave had existed centuries before. Dylan trusted that the last attempt by Nietzscheans to open the cave had been foiled by either their lack of patience with the combination lock, lack of skill with the chakram, or perhaps the validity of the third part of the instruction for opening the cave -- that the chakram had be thrown by a descendent of Xena.

* * * *

"That was remarkably easy, Captain Hunt." Tyr commented on the opening of the first door of the cave complex, which had seemed to be locked by a seal with a rotating center in the form of a handprint. Since Dylan had Mel Pappas's notes on the rotation of the hand it was very easy to place his palm on the imprint and rotate the disk to the three proper markings. Even without the notes the proper setting might have been found in a relatively small number of manipulations. Tyr, however, was impressed at how Dylan's hand fit almost perfectly into the imprint, as if it had been made by him or some blood relative. He secretly wondered what an analysis of the palm and fingerprints would reveal.

"You have to be careful inside here. The entire place is booby-trapped. You never know when a flight of stairs is going to go flat and send you sprawling or when a ceiling is going to come crashing down on you."

"Spare me, Captain Hunt."

"It's the truth. Think of every bad special effect you have ever seen in a movie and it is probably here. The ancient Greeks were masters at mechanical traps and snares."

Tyr would have laughed had not the stairs on which they were descending flattened out sending both men tumbling down and landing on the seats of their leather pants. He quickly jumped to his feet, dusted off his rear, and extended a hand to help Dylan. "I think you'd better lead from now on, Captain."

* * * * *

Dylan had been successful in his attempt to work his way through the rest of the traps. There were indications that others had actually made it past the front gate and either did not know what they were looking for or had given up at attempting to avoid the traps. A few assorted skulls indicated that not everyone had successful escaped after giving up. Tyr found it difficult to put his faith in the skill of Dylan Hunt; the degree of difficulty would have increased exponentially if he had realized that Dylan was putting his faith in something that he had absolutely no reason to believe.

When they finally reached the large central room with the flashing red lights, self-lighting torches and the immense lidded sarcophagus, Dylan's eyes began searching the walls in earnest.

"For what should I be looking?" Tyr asked. "Nietzscheans have better eyesight than humans, especially in this dim, flickering light"

"The other half of this." Dylan held up a piece of curved metal. "I picked it up just inside the first door. It is a chakram. Be careful, the outside edge is very sharp."

"You mean this," Tyr had walked exactly to the rock that contained the other half of the chakram, albeit partially buried in the rock.

"He must have put it back. I'd always assumed that it would just be on the floor where it was dropped the last time. Interesting, that might indicate that he actually believed in the legend about himself."

"Since I do not know the details, and you seem to know them quite well, I wonder if you would be so kind to confirm my suspicion that I, as well as you, am an integral part of this expedition into madness. If so, I really would like to know what is going to happen next."

"You are going to attempt to pull out that piece of metal." It was no sooner said than done.

"This seems a little too Arthurian for Nietzschean tastes, and a little too easy." Tyr commented.

"And reunite the two halves into a chakram. Then it has to be thrown so that it strikes that red eye up on the wall -- the Eye of Hephaestus." Dylan continued.

"How to you propose that one is going to do that? You said the edges are sharp. How do you throw such an item?"

"I don't know, but I don't have to figure it out. I'm going to let you throw it, as my weapon's officer, Tyr."

"Please, Captain Hunt." Tyr was stopped in his comment by a mysterious metallic force that seemed to pull the two parts of the weapon together. Mythical metal melding. The chakram was whole, and maybe he could figure out how to throw it.

"Nietzscheans are bad with knives. We use sharp blades only to cut through things, not as weapons. Except of course for those sharp blades that are part of our natural anatomy. However, I retain enough of my boyhood memories to remember that with what was called a Frisbee, the movement came not from a tight grasp but from moving the object as if it were a natural extension of your body. So I will give it a try." He spun the circular weapon around in his hand, realizing that the center edge was not razor sharp. A quick toss and it hit the base of a stalactite and broke it off.

"You seem to have a natural talent with ancient weapons."

"As children we would use Frisbees with nails embedded in the edges to hunt small animals. That was, of course, before we were able to outrun them."

"Of course." Dylan shook his head. He was certainly glad that he had not grown up on a Nietzschean planet.

"Is there anything else you want to share with me, Captain Hunt, before I direct this object at the conjuctivitised eye of an ancient god?"

"Well, there is a legend that goes with it, and if it is true, and the tomb does not open, we'd better be prepared to run quite rapidly to get out of here. But for you that shouldn't be difficult, I presume?"

"And if the legend is true and the tomb opens?" Tyr asked.

"I'm afraid that the person in it is going to be in for one hell of a shock?"

* * * * * *

He sensed someone was there. The air was damp and still. For centuries he had been aware of the movements of the bats, spiders and rats with which he had been forced to share his environment. Once in a while he would sense the movements of humans and their fragile demise. Today was different, very different. For the first time since that crazy woman archeologist had been here, he felt that he was going to get out. It would feel so goooood.

He strained to hear the voices. Both voices belonged to men, and he wondered if one of them was a descendent of Xena. There was nothing in the curse that said it had to be a female descendent of Xena that would throw the chakram to release him; yet he had never considered that someday a male descendent of Xena might show up to free him. The deal had been made regarding women and their role in society. He had been persistent in standing up for the role of women as leaders, warriors, hunters and fighters, he had fought for them, and he had lost. He wondered if these men were interested in taking up his fight, or if there was another reason they were coming to try to free him. If they were merely interested in grave robbing or treasure, they would be so very disappointed and so very dead.

As a god, Ares had the ability to sense and identify certain individuals, but this power had gone unused for centuries. Yet today, as he lay listening to the first human voices he had heard in years, he had a strange but probably inaccurate feeling. He sensed that one of the men in the cave was his brother, Hercules. He tried to focus; but as he focused, his suspicion clarified into knowledge. It was his brother, but why was HE here? The other man was Hercules's ally. Would they be opening his tomb just to try to kill him? Hercules knew how to kill gods. Suddenly he felt an emotion he hadn't felt for millennia, fear.

Yet he felt a surge of energy as the chakram pieces fused. He held back wanting to scream with glee as he sensed the air being split by its flight. It was just a matter of time. He ran his hands through his hair, grown long after centuries, and wondered about the warrior who would end his imprisonment. What would a male descendant of Xena look like? How would the human race have changed? What if Hercules was on his side now?

* * * *

Tyr walked over to the sarcophagus and ran his fingers over the face carved in the lid.

"I don't suppose the two of us could just lift this cover off. It doesn't look that heavy."

"I believe if that could have been done, it would have been done. But I prefer to keep it for my back up plan." Dylan commented.

"And you are relying on me both for my accuracy, and a possible link to a legend which you chose not to share with me, to open this coffin. I suggest that you would be better off trusting in our combined physical strength." Tyr said.

"I may be wrong, but I am assuming that the skeletons we see in this room belong to those who believed that the cover would not be that difficult to lift. And, as for the legend, I'd share it with you Tyr, but you'd laugh in my face. So give my plan a try."

"If you order me to proceed, I will, but I am still prepared to laugh."

"I was hoping that I wouldn't have to order you," Dylan said. "Aren't you at all curious?"

"Curiosity is not a trait that supports the longevity of either cats or Nietzscheans."

"Throw it, Tyr, consider that an order."

Tyr carefully fingered the chakram, noting its symbolic decorations. He calculated the direction and angle of flight needed to hit the red center of the eye. He also once again noted the exit path from the room and considered how long it might be prudent to wait before a quick retreat would be prudent. He trusted Dylan had done the same, in event of danger, he would not want to delay to save his captain. Tyr threw the chakram hitting the red eye squarely, bouncing it off at an angle before hitting a second wall and returning to his hand without so much as a step needing to be taken.

"Nice." Dylan breathed.

"Now what."

"We wait."

A soft creaking noise led both of them to believe that the wait would not be long.

* * * * *

Were it not for the lack of bone blades on his wrists the man might have passed as an Alpha Nietzschean of any of the existing or historical prides. He was close to how Tyr had envisioned the progenitor of the race to have looked. Tall, muscular, massively built, so that even when compared with a specimen such as Tyr, the man exuded power and strength. Dylan stepped back, afraid more of the reality than the unreality of the situation. The man - god - seemed unaware of those in the room and stretched his arms and rose in the uncovered coffin.

"I am Tyr Anasazi, out of Victoria by Barbarossa." Tyr extended his hand to the man, first for him to grasp and then to assist him out of the coffin.

"Tyr is a Norse god, but he only has one hand."

"I am not him." Tyr tossed his head, with the resulting whiplash result to his hair. He assumed a pose of alpha superiority.

"I assumed as much. He was a fairly weak god. I can see that you are not," the man observed.

"Not weak or not a god?"

"Who are you, Tyr Anasazi?"

"That is the question I should be asking you, as you already know my name and my lineage. You do not need to know more."

"I am Ares, God of War, and I suggest that you tell me the truth as to who you are and why you have come for me, or you might find yourself dead. "

"I am a crewmember of the Andromeda Ascendant. My captain is Dylan Hunt of the Commonwealth High Guard." It was obvious that these words meant nothing to Ares.

Ares turned his head, surveying the room for its other occupant. Dylan had retreated to the shadows, trusting Tyr to make the necessary introductions.

"You there, in the shadows, I can't see you, but I think I know who you are. Why are you here? Why did you free me? How could HE free me?"

Dylan walked forward slowly. He knew Ares would not be prepared to see him in his slimmer shorter-haired version. His face bore a broad smile. "So you think you know who I am. You're probably not going to believe that I am Captain Dylan Hunt of the Commonwealth High Guard, are you?"

"Not really." Ares shrugged.

"But that is how everyone else in the universe knows me. I'm afraid that this visit was delayed. I should have been here three centuries ago, but I had a little problem. Then I wasn't sure that you were still here. The universe is a mess, and I figured either you had a hand in making it that way or you could give a hand in trying to fix it."

"You speak of the universe, as if there is something bigger than the Earth."

"Oh, brother, if you only knew. Humanity and other species now exist across the total realm of the sky, but their problems are still the same. Earth is now under the command of Nietzscheans. People like him." He indicated Tyr. "Only he's on my side and they're not. I haven't a clue as to whether any of them would know the steps necessary to free you, but I decided it was worth my while to try. Right now I'd rather have you with me than against me.

Ares listened in disbelief.

"Humans have done a damn fair job of messing up the universe, but now they have bigger problems. There are species out there that make humans look fragile and peaceable."

"If he is any indication. . ." Ares stared at Tyr.

"Just wait until you meet the Magog." Dylan added.

"So you are saying you came and rescued me because. . ."

"Because I needed you, the universe needed you."

"I don't believe I ever expected you to say that. But didn't legend say that only a descendent of Xena could free me. Is he a descendent of Xena?"

Dylan shrugged his shoulders.

"I have no idea who this mythological, or shall I say fictional, character Xena is." Tyr said. "I do know that I am a genetic modification of a human, part of a species that has developed and evolved separately for hundreds of years. I know that there are human genes in my genome, but from whom they come, I do not know."

"What in the fuck is he talking about, Herc?"

"Damned if I know."

"Well, I know one way I can test," Ares said.

Tyr didn't know what he was thinking. It seemed unlikely that the man/god having been entombed for thousands of years would have whipped scientific instruments for a genetic test, but it was even more unlikely that the huge man would have grabbed him in his arms and kissed him. Not a soft little peck, but a warm, wet passionate kiss. The kind you would give your wife if you had been gone for a few years or some woman with whom you had just decided to make a baby. Tyr had never been kissed like this by a man or experienced the resulting erection evident in his tight leather pants.

"Yep, you are her descendent. I sure as hell can tell." Tyr had never seen a smile that was so knowing and sexual at the same time. Ares reached down and gave him a gentle slap on the ass.

"You do that again and you will get a feel of these." Tyr made a motion with his bone blades at Ares's groin.

"As you will. I will not try anything like that again, unless I am invited." Same smile, only bigger, more inviting, and more irresistible.

Dylan shook his head and held his breath. Was this about sex or gender? He knew that Ares had welcomed women as warriors. The act of his imprisonment, seen as an attempt to protect women, had caused them to lose status in the world now controlled by men. It had taken centuries for women to learn to fight and gain that status back. It was really only through contact with different worlds which did not share Earth's mythology that women had again become equals, and even that wasn't true for all species. Even though Tyr had gained an acceptance of the women crewmembers, normally Nietzscheans allowed only imperfect women to fight. Perhaps Ares had something completely different in mind when he trained women to be warriors. He wondered if he had the same feelings toward Tyr.

Dylan knew he needed Ares on his side when he went to fight to the Magog, but he had not thought of the effect Ares would have on Tyr. Ideas and possibilities ran through his mind so fast he couldn't formulate words or phrases to convey them.

"Let's get out of here, before someone realizes we are here. I have a lot to tell you Ares, but we have time. I hope."

McJude

May 2002
 

Back to Fanfic