Beka Valentine resisted the urge to kick off her shoes and walk barefoot in the lush green grass. Despite all the things she said about hating planets, the Wayest retreat on Halcyon Drift was as close as she could picture the appearance of the Garden of Eden (without the naked Adam and Eve, of course, but maybe later she and Dylan might give it a whirl.) She wondered if Evan, Harry and Dylan might equate it to the Elysian fields (except, of course, you would have to be dead to be there and she certainly hoped that there was no way anyone was going to do anything to approximate that.)

She noticed several empty benches overlooking interesting vistas where she might sit and contemplate what was probably going to happen during the next few days. She was extremely happy to be going to see Rev. Bem once again; his presence had been missed. She wondered what the he would say when he learned the true identity of his student, Dylan Hunt. She really wondered why he had called Tyr and Dylan to this retreat, but most of all she wondered why Dylan had insisted that she also join them.

She wanted to take the bench by the fountain containing hundreds of black and white stones. Watching the glistening water flowing over them, she would be reminded that the world was not just those two colors, but also a collection of grays that when placed side-by-side were virtually indistinguishable from each other. But this was a Wayest retreat, and the Wayests would say, go to the seat by the river and sit there, because by sitting there she would have to acknowledge the presence of Joan D'Arc, and perhaps she could come to some resolution of the differences between them.

Beka had though she had escaped that woman when Tyr had left her behind here what seemed like an eternity ago. She had certainly not expected to find her living with Rev. Bem at his retreat house, although the Wayest Magog did have a soft spot for strays. She hadn't realized that Joan was pregnant, which could have explained the situation if the father had been anyone other than Tyr. She knew how much Tyr loved children and suddenly had the thought that the Nietzschean might try to take the child from its mother and raise it himself. Was she brought along for a substitute mother or a convenient female? Tyr had to have known about the pregnancy, but Dylan was the one who had insisted that she come.

Beka walked quietly across the lawn, mulling over in her mind how she was going to begin the conversation. What do you say to a woman who is pregnant and estranged from the child's father? 'That bun must be close to being baked' did not seem appropriate. She wondered if she just sat down if Joan would begin the conversation. The seat by the fountain seemed even more desirable, but she continued toward the pregnant woman and just said "Hello, Joan."

"Captain Valentine. I did not expect to see you. What are you doing at this retreat?"

"Rev. Bem requested that Dylan and Tyr join him here? Dylan insisted I come, too."

"Tyr is coming here, why?"

"I think it might have something to do with this." Beka patted Joan's swollen stomach and the Nietzschean jumped back in avoidance.

"Sorry."

"You should be. I didn't say you could you to touch me!"

"I said I was sorry."

The Joan D'Arc looked around the area. Beka had come alone.

"Where are they?

Frankly it was none of her business. Beka knew that Dylan had gone to meet with Evan Hopewell who for some reason had also been invited to the retreat. Logic would indicate that Harry Wagner was also here somewhere, she didn't want to be the one to break that news to Joan.

"Dylan's off meeting with Evan Hopewell."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

Beka chose not to answer. She really wasn't one hundred percent sure what Joan was asking? Was it wrong to assume that she was asking her if it bothered her that Dylan and Evan were probably somewhere right now having sex? That was, in all probability, where they were. It didn't bother her that much. The two of them had been lovers for what everyone else in the universe, if they could even contemplate a period of time that long, would probably call forever. It bothered her some that neither one of them had invited her to join in, maybe a little, maybe next time.

"Don't know where Tyr was going, he just indicated he had some business." Beka knew she wasn't a good liar. She knew Joan had to know Tyr was either trying to find or was with Harry.

"Why should I care about Tyr? We're over."

"It doesn't look too over to me, Joan D'Arc. He is the father of that baby. He cares a great deal about him or her. Do you know which yet?"

"Do you think I would tell you?"

"Listen, I didn't really want to come over and talk to you. I only did it because this is a Wayest Retreat and I thought Rev. Bem's Divine was due some respect. If you have no desire to conduct a civil conversation, I can assure you, that I do not either. I will not bother you." She turned her back and began to walk away toward the fountain.

"I'm sorry, Beka. It's the hormones. Have you ever been pregnant?" The Nietzschean woman hurried to walk by Beka's side.

Beka shook her head and continued walking.

"If you had you'd know it is hard to be civil with all those hormones raging. Think PMS for nine solid months. Think wanting to tear out long black braids hair by precious hair."

"Ugh. I feel sorry for Tyr already."

"Don't. It was all his fault. How could I have known my fabulous Kodiak lover, the man who saved me from space and protected me from the unknown, was a fucking queer?"

"He's not."

"Then what would you call his relationship with Harry?"

"Some men are like that. They have relationships with men and women. Some women have relationships with men and women, too." Beka didn't want to take this any further. "Sometimes they don't have any control over whom they fall in love with."

"You mean he's in love with Harry, too. I thought the sex part of it was bad enough."

"Listen, Joan. I'm probably not the person you should be discussing this with. I am sure that whatever Tyr felt for you was a very good thing. Nietzscheans are. . . ." She stopped, bit her words and decided whatever she said would probably be taken the wrong way. "Come, Joan, sit with me by the fountain. We don't have to talk, just think."

Joan waddled along. She couldn't explain either. There were lots of things she couldn't explain now, and there probably would be even more in a week or two. She just wished Rev. Bem had not asked these people here. Some things would be easier to work out alone, or with the man who had now become her spiritual advisor.

* * * *

Tyr and gone from bar to sleazy bar asking everyone about the big man with the black hair and eyes. He was sure that anyone who saw him would have remembered. There were not many men in the entire universe with that kind of a presence but no one had admitting to seeing him. He was not sure if it was because absence, unawareness, or respect for privacy. He wondered if there were darker bars with even more depraved activities and if he might find Harry there. It was frightening. He wished he knew that he had gone somewhere else, away in space, back in time, even back to his royal lover on Seolfor V, or anyplace but here. Harry being here was going to make his life even more complicated.

The dinginess of the square was a sharp contract to the melody being played by a young girl on a violin. Appreciative fans had tossed a few coins, folded bills, and a package of condoms into her open case. She seemed not to care that only a few were listening to her music, and was completely oblivious of large man who sat at a table cradling a coffee mug in his hands, eyes closed, mind elsewhere who knew and was extremely grateful that she was there.

Tyr had noticed him almost immediately upon hearing the music and almost walked on. He did not want to interrupt what might possibly be one of his few pleasurable moments. He could find him later, but later things might even be worse. They had to talk now. He walked over and quietly put his hand on his shoulder.

"Will you tell me to leave, or can I sit down?" He asked.

"What do you think?" Harry opened his eyes, scowled and looked up.

"I think we need to talk."

"I think we have needed to talk for a long, long time. I think I need to listen to this young lady play Samuel Barber. It is music for contemplation. You can join me in listening, and perhaps we can talk later."

Tyr sat down and a mug of coffee appeared before him. It was a dark roast, almost burned, but without the sugar usually included in a cup so strong. Hot and bitter. Like today. He reached in his pocket and extracted a cord to tie back his hair, a nervous habit perhaps, but it made him feel better not to have to be aware of the moving ends of his hair. The girl finished, took a bow, and moved a few meters down the street.

"You knew where I was. Evan and I heard from all the rest of your friends. Even Harper and Trance."

"Same here, and you would not be incorrect if you thought that I failed to communicate with you on purpose."

"We are a sorry lot, aren't we." Harry had this grin that said it all.

"No, you are the sorry lot. I am just confused. Do not equate the two. I don't."

"A confused Nietzschean is a sorry Nietzschean. I thought figuring out the situation was one of your genetic strengths."

"Listen, Harry, I have no idea what my strengths are anymore. All I know is that in a few weeks I am going to be a father again, and I have no idea whether the mother will let me name my child, hold my child, even see my child. It is said that it is a genetic strength of Nietzscheans to love their children, yet this is a child I would have just as soon seen aborted."

"You can't say that Tyr. Say you hate me. Say you hate her. But don't begrudge the life of that child."

"I don't hate you, Harry. That is the problem. I love you. How can I love you and love that child, too?" He reached over and ran his bone spurs down Harry's arm. The god realized that at a time like this that act was the equivalent of running his hands inside his . . . No thought wouldn't take him there. He was still considering the words Tyr had said. Were the two loves incompatible?

"We can't talk here, Tyr. I have a room."

"You always have a room. A room with a big chair and a big bed. I'll either find you sitting on the chair with me at your feet, or me flopped over the bed with you. . . I can't do that this time. I can't."

"Why not? You just said you loved me. I sure as hell love you. Why can't we?"

"Because we have to talk, not fuck. I'm staying at a Wayest retreat with a former crewmember. A spiritual advisor. You can join me there. We can all talk."

"I my friend had just spent seven months on a celibate planet. I guess that means that before we talk, I have to get laid. I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm not sorry, I'm just horny."

"Oh, excuse me. I just figured that Evan Hopewell would have taken care of that for you. Isn't that his specialty? He seems to fuck everything that moves."

"Evan and I are way past that. And certainly not on Libra X. So if you excuse me, I am going to go down and see if that young violinist knows about fiddling with anything else besides her violin. When I'm done, I'll consider, and I am not promising anything, whether we really still have anything to discuss."

He rose and turned his back on the table.

"When you are ready to talk, Harry, just talk, come out to the retreat. Dylan assures me that it is the perfect place to work everything out, with little or no distractions."

"And you believe him."

"I guess this time I will have to."

* * * * * *

Evan threw his pack containing assorted lubes and massage creams on the bed. He had expected this to be a you-fuck-me-I'll-fuck-you type of afternoon. It had been a long time since he had seen Dylan, a long time spent on that damn celibate library planet. Maybe Dylan had been getting a lot of action, but he sure as hell wasn't. He hadn't expected Dylan to be late; it was not like him to be late. He tried to look at the documents he had brought with him, trying to figure out if there might be an alternative explanation. Fortunately about the same time he concluded that none was coming, Dylan arrived.

"Oh, Gods I have missed you," he said burying his face in the taller man's chest. "I just need to hold you for a while."

"I take it things are bad. That is what Trance said. They were going to be bad."

"You can't even begin to imagine, Herc."

"I thought Ares was doing better. That's the impression I got from your communications. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not Ares, Herc, it's Tyr."

"Tyr? I assure you he is doing fine. A little confused, but certainly nothing to worry about. He is a Nietzschean, he can handle things."

"Not sure. You don't know what I know."

"I'd actually come here this afternoon because I thought you might need a little shall I say 'pick- me-up.' Otherwise we would have just met at the retreat. I really didn't come here to talk, Evan."

"I know, I know. When was the last time you saw me like this?"

"Let's see. Pacing the floor, biting your fingernails, fumbling around. I can't remember. What's the matter? Maybe we should talk about it. Do you want me to give you a massage? Would that help?" He grabbed the smaller man's shoulders and began removing his shirt.

"It would feel damn good, but I doubt if it would help. But let's not let that stop us. I'll get naked if you do." Suddenly Iolaus had a flashback to the propertied Nietzschean truth ceremony. It certainly didn't help the situation either. "Can you lie if you are naked, Herc?"

"Why is it you can call me Herc, and I can't call you Iolaus?"

"That didn't answer my question. But the answer to that one is . . ."

His friend had covered his mouth with his; he realized that talking would be suspended for the next few minutes. Maybe even more germane than the question of whether you could lie while you were naked, which he knew he could, was whether you could think while you were being fucked, which he wasn't sure but would probably learn in just a few minutes.

Dylan was eager and athletic bending their bodies into a multitude of positions. Evan realized that he should have expected it, nightly fun with Beka Valentine would have kept the Captain limber. He on the other hand had spent the last six months with Harry and books. Orgasms, especially your second or third, were wonderful ways to erase painful memories and the need to communicate, no matter how important the matter at hand had seemed. Evan found himself falling asleep, without once trying to reciprocate the kindness Dylan had bestowed upon him.

"It's afternoon, Evan. We can fuck, or we can talk, but you can't sleep. You can sleep tonight, outdoors, down by the river."

"Honestly, we're going to sleep outside. Are we going to cook outside, too."

"If you want. Rev. Bem says the river is heavily stocked with fish."

"Herc, do you think there are any rabbits?" Evan smiled and kissed Dylan on the lips, before moving his mouth lower hitting sensitive nipples and a quick lick of the navel before hitting its final goal.

* * * * * *

Rev. Bem glanced down by the river and felt secure in the fact that Joan and Beka were still talking. He hit a hidden button and activated an unseen security field around the property, while it would not deter anyone from entering it would give him the notice necessary to ensure the privacy of the man with whom he was now meeting.

"I am sorry I have nothing to offer you to drink but water from the stream. My guest, Ms. D'Arc, has made short work of what little sherry I did have. I trust that one of the men staying here tonight will bring wine, or brandy, or whatever they are drinking now to produce intoxication."

"Considering the guest list it is practically a given." The tall, gray-haired man sat quietly at the table and folded his hands together.

"Yes, it has worked out well hasn't it. All of the people involved will be together in one place tonight."

"I cannot help think that the spirit you call 'The Divine' has one enormous sense of humor."

"You consider it humorous! I don't really see it as that, just opportune. I still cannot help but think that there are scenarios that might come to pass which would funny at all. For instance if Tyr Anasazi decides to kill Evan Hopewell first and ask questions later."

"I assure you that one that is not going to happen because Evan's friend Dylan will not let it happen, and even if they did, I assure that Mr. Hopewell is quite immortal. He's faced fiercer challenges that a Nietzschean before."

"Don't say that too loud, my other Nietzschean guest may challenge you on that."

"She is a tough one isn't she? Even in her present state I would hate to see her mad."

Rev. Bem took another look out the window. Everything looked fine. He swore he saw a white rabbit running across the lawn.

"So tonight," he continued. "I've invited my guests to spend some time down by the river at a campfire. I know Dylan and Evan will be up for it, and Tyr will want to be there, too."

"What about Ares?"

"I haven't heard from him. Only met the man once, in his Harry persona. I assume he will follow Tyr here, but if he doesn't you may have to go through Evan."

"Iolaus is a good man, a very good man."

"I feel uneducated that I was never aware of his role in the world."

"I kept it well hidden on purpose."

"Certainly did, I am not sure there is anyone who would put those things you told me together with a blond Greek hunter."

"He doesn't even know it all, Rev., I couldn't even trust him with the information, not sure if he even has a full sense of what has happened now. Just a few loose ends he can't put together."

"I am most flattered that you have trusted to reveal them to me then and assure you that the secrets are safe. Let's go through the plans again. I am going to let the three of them bond down by the river. They need that time together to relax, probably make Evan and Tyr feel more comfortable together. We wait about an hour to see if Ares shows up. I'll check to make sure that they don't need anything, that they are ready to talk to you. Then I'll give you a signal. You just stroll in, sit down, join their conversation."

"Evan will recognize me as Malcolm. I don't know about the others. I haven't seen Dylan in a long time, and Ares, I can't even remember myself. I will try to direct the conversation, see if anyone can take it and run with it."

"And if they don't? What then?"

"Do you think I should produce a thunderstorm, possibly a tornado."

"No, the weather is too unstable on this drift. Here it is always peaceful, so storms would create outside attention that we probably don't want to have."

"I kind of thought the weather change would be interesting though."

"I think we'll have enough "interesting" as it is. With or without Ares."

"I realize the spiritual is near the surface here, but I doubt if any of these people has thought about who I really am for a long, long time. Evan will see me as a librarian, Dylan as a teacher, Ares -- I'm not sure at all if he will see anything."

"And Tyr. If Tyr is there, what will he see?"

"My brother, Tyr will probably see that what he thought was a logical universe on the edge of chaos is actually closer to that final breakdown than he could have possibly imagined, or conversely, he may see me as the facilitator of his fondest dreams."

The chimes beeped.

"Well, I'd better be getting on. I think I am going to take a little walk in the woods. Check out a few of the divine's creatures."

"They're different here, this drift has only been terra-formed. They won't hurt you, if you don't hurt them."

"As long as it hasn't been terra-ized." The tall man laughed.

"So long friend, until tonight!"

McJude

April 2002
 

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