NOTE TO READERS: Nietzschean society is Matriarchal, where the women are in power and make the decisions. This is especially evident when it applies to selecting a mate. If the lady likes what she sees, it's all good. If not, be off with ye . . . . . . . .
Free Enterpise - A Very Important Date - Chapter #10
Approximately three hours before their scheduled dinner date, Tyr had appropriated the small kitchen in the back of the Captain's Mess, donned an apron and started preparing the meal. About an hour and a half before show time, Tyr placed his dish into the oven, set it and went to his quarters to get cleaned up and change.
* * * * * * *
However, in T'Marr's quarters she stood in the middle of a pile of clothing. She'd had her hair and nails done, but she just could not figure out what to wear. She was about to opt for her uniform, when she espied a lone outfit left hanging in her closet.
She removed the hanger bearing the outfit, walked over to her full length mirror and held it up to herself.
“That'll work.” she thought, and smiled. Relieved, T'Marr softly sang Nina Simone's “C Line Woman” to herself as she headed for the fresher to take a sonic shower.
* * * * * * *
“I told you she would not come.” Tyr said, sourly. The meal was prepared. The steward had set the table with the appropriate silver ware, dishes and glass wear. Altiar water was chilling in a bucket, and a nervous ( upon immediate death he would not admit that he was nervous ) Tyr was standing, ready and dressed to impress. The only thing missing was T'Marr.
“She will be here, Tyr. She is just late.” Khan replied. Tyr frowned because he did not understand the concept of lateness. Being a man of action, he did not like to waste time waiting for a late party when he could be doing whatever.
“She's most likely held up by trying to decide which lipstick to wear.” Khan continued.
That was another strange concept to Tyr. Even though he had five sisters and watched as they made themselves up. To him it seemed like such a waste. All they did was cover up with something which could be immediately wiped/washed off. Of course, Tyr was not a hit with his sisters when he expressed that sentiment.
“She will be here, Tyr.” Khan said as he touched his forehead with his right index and middle finger in a sort of salute. “You two will enjoy your dinner.” he continued, as he exited through the kitchen.
No sooner did Khan leave did T'Marr enter, rather ran in the front door. In fact the poor thing had run all the way from the turbo lift.
“I'm so sorry I'm late, Sir! I had a makeup malfunction.” she panted. Tyr smiled in the semi-darkness and chuckled. The Androian steward came out and lit the candles, Tyr whispered orders to her and she disappeared.
“T'Marr. We are both off duty so you do not have to call me Sir.” Tyr said as he scrutinized her. What the heck had she done to her hair? Her normally fetching short bob was now a mass of small curls. And that lip coloring she wore was too . . . . . . .
“How do the Humans say it? Yuck. . . .” Tyr thought. However he did like her outfit. A navy blue short sleeved Vulcan tunic emblazoned with Vulcan squiggles, with matching pants. She wore a pair of sandals on her feet. No jewelry except a post earring in each ear.
He beckoned her forward by pulling out a chair. Before sitting, T'Marr literally gave Tyr the once over.
“OMG! What the heck is he wearing?” she thought calmly, even though she wanted desperately to do the “teeny-screamy” thing. Vulcans did not do the “teeny-screamy” thing, even one who'd been raised with Humans. Tyr would never understand, not now anyway.
His outfit was all brown leather and fit like a glove, showing off his physique to the nth degree. In other words Tyr was smokin'!
"Any closer and the man would be ablaze!" T'Marr thought.
From what she'd heard, Nietzschean men deliberately dressed like this to impress Nietzschean women. Because it was the ladies who made the ultimate choice. Just like the Earth Peacock who displayed his plumage in a non-verbal way of saying. “Hey, ladies! I'm over here! Notice me! PICK ME!”
As Tyr sat, two stewards came in bearing trays with covered dishes of food. T'Marr smiled inside when she smelled cheese and fresh salad.
“Will you be needing us any further, Sir?” the Andorian steward asked.
“No thank you, Gynn. I'll take it from here.” Tyr replied.
“Very well, Good Night, Sir, Ma'am.” Gynn replied, as she inclined her head respectfully and left.
“With them gone, who's going to. . . . .?” T'Marr thought. As if in answer to her question, Tyr stood, uncovered the dishes, took up a plate in one hand, a serving spoon in the other and began dishing out the hot food first. T'Marr was pleasantly surprised to see that it was her all time favorite, lasagna. Apparently freshly cooked.
“You can cook?” she asked, as he placed the plate before her.
“You will be surprised at the things I can do.” Tyr replied. T'Marr forcibly willed her mind back to the present.
“Tell me.” she said, as she took a forkful of lasagne.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Questions & Answers - Chapter 9
More Important Background Information. . . . .
Depending how this story goes, you may see this line a lot: " I am Tyr Anasazi of the Kodiak Pride, out of Victoria by Barbarossa!" When Tyr quotes this, he is quoting his bloodline. He is telling us he is a member of Pride Kodiak, which is the Nietzschean version of a tribe or clan, but much larger. He's also stating that his mother's name is "Victoria" and his father's name is "Barbarossa". Nietzscheans take pride in quoting their bloodlines because their bloodlines are supposed to be pure and not tainted with weakness.
Tyr also prides himself with being the bearer of "Drago's Bones". Drago is reportedly the First Nietzschean man created. Carrying Drago's bones is equal to carrying a kind of religious totem. The Pride who is the caretaker of or "carries Drago's bones" is automatically deemed the most powerful and influencial and given much respect.
NOW I RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMING . . . . . . .
* * * * * * * * *
Free Enterprise - Questions & Answers - Chapter #9
Kori looked up from what she was doing in her office and whispered:
“Oh Hell no.” as she shook her head. Big as the man was, he moved gracefully and was as silent as smoke.
“I heard that.” Captain Tyr stated sourly. With a Nietzschean husband of her own, you'd think Kori knew they possessed super-sensitive hearing. Oh, she did, she just didn't care. . . . . .
“What do you want?” Kori demanded. It was the standard rude Klingon greeting. But, in this case it was also showed that she was ticked he was darkening her doorway, yet again.
The Nietzschean Captain was about to answer when he forced to put up his left forearm and duck, as his right hand went for a wicked looking knife he always carried.
“VuVu! VuVu! Stop! Be nice!” Kori shouted, as she stood up and gave the purple leafed vines a couple of whacks with her PADD. The vines withdrew and VuVu actually whined like a chastised pup. On alert, Tyr stood up from his defensive crouch, and gazed wearily around Kori's office, to see if there were any more of the darned things. There weren't.
“And I thought Darwin was bad.” he thought, and sighed.
“You'll have to excuse VuVu. She is a species of Wandering Jew and is called a Pickpocket Plant. She is like a crow and loves shiny objects, so if you give her a coin or something, she'll be your best friend.” Kori said. Well aware there was no way VuVu was going to pickpocket The Captain. Like Gilgamesh, and the rest of the male Nietzscheans on board, his clothing fit him like a glove.
“Don't the Ferrengi employ their services in some of their bars?” Tyr asked as he pulled out a Nietzschean Sovereign and held it out in the palm of his right hand. VuVu hesitantly stuck out a vine and deftly snatched it with blinding quickness. He didn't even feel the plant touch him! No wonder they were so highly valued!
“Yes, they do. As a matter of fact, a big Ferrengi operation was closed down and one hundred of these plants were confiscated. The patrons were aware that their fellow compatriots and skells had designs on them. But, they never had a clue the decorative fauna was stealing from them, too! For years, it was the universe's best kept mystery.” Kori replied.
“So what broke the case?” Tyr asked.
“A couple of disgruntled Dabo Girls dropped dime, and secret video surveillance was installed. Plus the Sentient Plants Activists got involved and publicized the so-called atrocities. The case was a media circus and the confinement times were doubled. End of story. ” Kori replied. “So, Captain, what brings you to Sickbay?” she asked, as a matter of factly.
“T'Marr.” Tyr stated, simply.
“This is becoming an obsession, Captain. Have you spoken to Khan about it?” Kori asked, as she watched Tyr's continence darken.
“I merely wish to know if she has any food allergies.” he explained, stiffly. Kori immediately sat behind her desk and called up T'Marr's medical record. Like most Vulcans, she possessed none. But, there was always an occasional exception, that's why Kori checked.
“No, she does not.” Kori stated and smiled.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Tyr replied.
“You are welcome, Captain.” Kori said, as she watched Tyr leave. She allowed herself a moment of speculation after he was gone.
“Equation: The Captain comes to Chief Medical Officer to verify whether or not his Commander has food allergies. Conclusion: The Captain was planning to prepare dinner for said Commander.” Kori thought, as she called to mind an imaginary picture of Tyr dressed in an apron and cooking. She frowned and immediately switched Tyr's face to Gilgamesh's
“There, that's better.” she thought, brightly and smiled.
Depending how this story goes, you may see this line a lot: " I am Tyr Anasazi of the Kodiak Pride, out of Victoria by Barbarossa!" When Tyr quotes this, he is quoting his bloodline. He is telling us he is a member of Pride Kodiak, which is the Nietzschean version of a tribe or clan, but much larger. He's also stating that his mother's name is "Victoria" and his father's name is "Barbarossa". Nietzscheans take pride in quoting their bloodlines because their bloodlines are supposed to be pure and not tainted with weakness.
Tyr also prides himself with being the bearer of "Drago's Bones". Drago is reportedly the First Nietzschean man created. Carrying Drago's bones is equal to carrying a kind of religious totem. The Pride who is the caretaker of or "carries Drago's bones" is automatically deemed the most powerful and influencial and given much respect.
NOW I RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMING . . . . . . .
* * * * * * * * *
Free Enterprise - Questions & Answers - Chapter #9
Kori looked up from what she was doing in her office and whispered:
“Oh Hell no.” as she shook her head. Big as the man was, he moved gracefully and was as silent as smoke.
“I heard that.” Captain Tyr stated sourly. With a Nietzschean husband of her own, you'd think Kori knew they possessed super-sensitive hearing. Oh, she did, she just didn't care. . . . . .
“What do you want?” Kori demanded. It was the standard rude Klingon greeting. But, in this case it was also showed that she was ticked he was darkening her doorway, yet again.
The Nietzschean Captain was about to answer when he forced to put up his left forearm and duck, as his right hand went for a wicked looking knife he always carried.
“VuVu! VuVu! Stop! Be nice!” Kori shouted, as she stood up and gave the purple leafed vines a couple of whacks with her PADD. The vines withdrew and VuVu actually whined like a chastised pup. On alert, Tyr stood up from his defensive crouch, and gazed wearily around Kori's office, to see if there were any more of the darned things. There weren't.
“And I thought Darwin was bad.” he thought, and sighed.
“You'll have to excuse VuVu. She is a species of Wandering Jew and is called a Pickpocket Plant. She is like a crow and loves shiny objects, so if you give her a coin or something, she'll be your best friend.” Kori said. Well aware there was no way VuVu was going to pickpocket The Captain. Like Gilgamesh, and the rest of the male Nietzscheans on board, his clothing fit him like a glove.
“Don't the Ferrengi employ their services in some of their bars?” Tyr asked as he pulled out a Nietzschean Sovereign and held it out in the palm of his right hand. VuVu hesitantly stuck out a vine and deftly snatched it with blinding quickness. He didn't even feel the plant touch him! No wonder they were so highly valued!
“Yes, they do. As a matter of fact, a big Ferrengi operation was closed down and one hundred of these plants were confiscated. The patrons were aware that their fellow compatriots and skells had designs on them. But, they never had a clue the decorative fauna was stealing from them, too! For years, it was the universe's best kept mystery.” Kori replied.
“So what broke the case?” Tyr asked.
“A couple of disgruntled Dabo Girls dropped dime, and secret video surveillance was installed. Plus the Sentient Plants Activists got involved and publicized the so-called atrocities. The case was a media circus and the confinement times were doubled. End of story. ” Kori replied. “So, Captain, what brings you to Sickbay?” she asked, as a matter of factly.
“T'Marr.” Tyr stated, simply.
“This is becoming an obsession, Captain. Have you spoken to Khan about it?” Kori asked, as she watched Tyr's continence darken.
“I merely wish to know if she has any food allergies.” he explained, stiffly. Kori immediately sat behind her desk and called up T'Marr's medical record. Like most Vulcans, she possessed none. But, there was always an occasional exception, that's why Kori checked.
“No, she does not.” Kori stated and smiled.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Tyr replied.
“You are welcome, Captain.” Kori said, as she watched Tyr leave. She allowed herself a moment of speculation after he was gone.
“Equation: The Captain comes to Chief Medical Officer to verify whether or not his Commander has food allergies. Conclusion: The Captain was planning to prepare dinner for said Commander.” Kori thought, as she called to mind an imaginary picture of Tyr dressed in an apron and cooking. She frowned and immediately switched Tyr's face to Gilgamesh's
“There, that's better.” she thought, brightly and smiled.
Staking A Claim - Chapter 8
Again I have been remiss! I knew there was SOMETHING I was forgetting!
BONEBLADES: What are they?
Boneblades are uniquely designed for Homo Sapiens Invitcus (The Nietzscheans) so that he or she are never unarmed. They consist of three boney protuberances which extend out from the radial bones of the forearms. When at rest they lie flat against the back of the owners forearms. As you can see from the photo above.
During conflict they extend out like a cats claws to rip, or tear. The men wear leather gauntlets on their forearms which help to protect the sensitive skin around each blade, Women, unless they are going into battle wear a feminine cuff type covering over theirs.
Boneblades are a once in a life time thing. Should a Neitzschean lose his/her boneblades in an accident or battle, they cannot be replaced. This may also be why some Nietzscheans have chosen to have their boneblades removed in order to appear more Human. . . .
Now that I've totally bored you with that . . . . On with the story!
* * * * * *
Free Enterprise – Staking A Claim - Chapter #8
That night Khan did not sleep well at all. His wife Fatou put their two kits to sleep and she stayed up for two hours with him. Finally she went to sleep, because Khan promised he would join her soon.
Funny thing, he knew he would not, and so did Sabra. They were both precognitive, ( with Khan being the stronger of the two ), and they both knew that there were times when The Gift “spoke” and it's content was disturbing. Sometimes too disturbing to tell those involved, and far too disturbing to sleep on.
Right now, one young man's face dominated Khan's thoughts. Nietzschean Captain Tyr Anasazi, out of Victory by Barbarossa. The tenth son whom Barbarossa had predicted would be “the center of the wheel”, didn't even own a pot to pee in, compared to his older brothers.
All of his brothers were well established, and owned ships, planets, an orbital platform and space station or two, wives and many children. Tyr was Tyr and was satisfied with what he had. A ship with stars to navigate by. So what it wasn't his own ship. . . . .
But, that was about to change. The problem was, how did one make such a prediction? When the Divine gave The Gift to the Katay, He also gave them the Revelational Guide. It was a Divine instruction manual on the responsibilities of being a "precog".
Unlike fortune tellers, The Gifted did not just tell a poor man “You're going to be rich.” According to the Revelational Guide, The Gifted was responsible to guide the poor man step by step until he reached his riches.
Like: “You have to go to this house at this address, and meet this man who's name is so and so. Ask for this woman, whose name is so and so, and she will give you the name and address of another location. Go to that location which happens to be a bank and speak to this man and he will give you the key to a safety deposit box. . . . . .” That's of course, if the hearer was willing to believe and do so.
Tyr's first step was connecting with T'Marr.
“Now if I can just get the stubborn Nietzschean to invite her to have dinner with him in the Captain's mess a couple of nights a week. . . . .” Khan thought. And he had to do it soon, because the other male Nietzschean members of the crew were casting their eyes in T'Marr's direction. . . . . .
* * * * * * * * * *
After two days of uninterrupted rest, T'Marr woke up early on the third morning and went to the gym. After her workout, she headed back to her quarters to get cleaned up and was preparing to do some serious reading when she noticed she had a message on her console.
When she opened the message The Captain's personal signature page came up.
“Oh what fresh hell is this?” she thought, as she opened the message. It was a text message which simply said:
“Please join me for dinner at 1900 hours tonight in the Captain's Mess.” T'Marr read with her heart in her throat.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! What am I going to wear?” she asked, as she ran to her closet and began snatching out clothing.
* * * * * * * * * *
“There! Now, I've sent it. Fat lot of good it will do if she doesn't come.” Tyr rumbled.
“Trust me, she'll be there.” Khan replied. The tiny hairs on Tyr's neck stood on end. He hated when that happened.
“Bye the way, what are we going to do with Ensign DeMato?” Khan asked as an aside. Tyr stood and went to his favorite spot to gaze out of the viewport at the stars.
“His request for transfer has been denied.” Tyr replied
“His request is legitimate.” Khan stated.
“I understand and sympathize. However, I've also taken the liberty of checking the replacement pools. There are currently no other Communications Officers equaling his caliber to replace him, so I am initiating Stop Loss. Unless I'm guaranteed a suitable replacement, Ensign DeMato stays.” Tyr intoned.
“My, that is most unfortunate. He is not going to want to hear that.” Khan replied.
“It is most unfortunate for the both of us. Our Human cousins stink when they are fearful, and Ensign DeMato is sacred to death of me.” Tyr said.
Khan was a living witness of what he was talking about. Nietzschean men seemed to strike fear in the hearts of most Human males. Especially the Alphas like Tyr.
Alphas were the bigger, stronger, meaner, and the more dominant members of the Nietzschean Prides. On their home worlds, they lived in the lap of luxury because they got all of the women and got to father as many children as they wanted. The cost was they had to fight for and win the woman's favor, fight for everything and to keep everything. "Only the strong survive!" was the number one Nietzschean motto.
Khan had been working with Tyr to get him to “tone it down” just a bit. So, by having Tyr modify his stance while around his male human crew members and officers was helping, somewhat.
“Remember what we discussed earlier?” Khan asked, pointing at Tyr's crossed arms with his boneblades which were half extended. The darned things reminded Khan of his own claws, which he had to consciously keep retracted.
The Ready Room's door chime rang, as Tyr dropped his arms behind his back in parade rest mode. Hiding the boneblades. Khan pulled his whiskers back in a smile.
“Enter.” Tyr said. And Ensign DeMato stepped into The Lion's Den.
Exit Stage Left - Chapter 7
NOTE TO READERS: There is no such thing as “The Starfleet Command Guide” nor the code quoted from therein. It exists only in my fertile imagination, and is allowed to peek out every so often. This was such a time . . . . .
* * * * * * *
Free Enterprise - Exit Stage Left - Chapter #7
It was T'Marr's 10th day in purgatory when she decided she'd had enough! Despite the fact that she was fuming inside, she decided she was not going to scream, shout or use profanity (in any language or dialect). Nor was she going to go in “swinging”. T'Marr determined that she was going to handle the whole matter both professionally and logically.
The first step was to summon Lt. Commander Gilgamesh to the bridge to relieve her at the comm. Immediately upon her subordinate's arrival, she stood smartly, made a textbook military right and headed for the door of Captain Anasazi's Ready Room. Which by the way had been formally dubbed “The Lion's Den” by the crew.
* * * * *
The Insurrection's Captain was currently in the midst of studying a complicated set of quantum physics problems, on his desk console screen. He was doing this because his Chief Engineer told him this equation described a method which would improve the Insurrection's engines optimum output by 40%.
Tyr was checking because Nietzscheans were firm believers in exercising their minds as well as their bodies. He was also checking because he didn't want his ship to blow up, after his Engineer made said adjustments.
His mind screeched to a halt in the middle of his computations, as Khan spoke:
“Remember I warned you 2 days ago T'Marr was going to confront you?”
“How could I not?” Tyr rumbled. Ticked off that his concentration had been disturbed and was now scattered like a frightened flock of chickens. The answer was just a hair's breath away, too ........
“It's show time.” Khan said, as the door chime sounded. Both Katay and Nietzschean stared at one another.
“Someone's knocking on the door. Someone's ringin' the bell. Do me a favor, open the door and let 'em in. . . .” Khan sang, part of a stanza from a very old Earth song recorded by a group called "The Beatles".
Tyr utterly detested when Khan sang. It wasn't fair that Khan, a giant cat, who occasionally licked himself to keep clean (when sonics were unavailable), had a better singing voice than him.
“Enter.” Tyr said, after standing and giving Khan a warning gaze letting him know “this is not yet over.”
When T'Marr stepped into the room she found both Tyr and Khan staring disinterestedly out of the viewport.
“Damn!” she thought to herself. For she was looking forward to speaking with the Captain WITHOUT his flunky. The Nietzschean Captain, who had not mastered the art of pleasantly greeting people in the morning, merely turned to face T'Marr and crossed his powerfully muscled arms, and displaying his boneblades. A defensive posture Khan noted, and pulled his whiskers back in the Katay equivalent of a smile.
"All of this to impress a mere kit of a woman." Khan thought.
“Captain Anasazi. I request permission to speak to you in private, Sir.” she said, as she stood at attention. Silently, Khan made as if to leave. However, Tyr's voice stopped him.
“Permission denied. Khan stays. In addition to him being my Yeoman, he is officially designated as the Insurrections Counselor. I assure you that what you say here, will stay here.” Tyr intoned.
“Very well. Then I ask permission to speak freely and off the record, Sir.” T'Marr replied. Seemingly nonplussed by that revelation.
“Speak.” Tyr said.
“Oh-oh!” Khan thought.
“I arrived on the Insurrection 10 days, 15 hours, and 27 seconds ago. Since then I have only been allowed 3 hours between 10 to 12 hours shifts. . . .” T'Marr began.
“Commander! Spit it out in plain English please!” Tyr demanded. He was not in the mood for the verbal jousting Vulcans reportedly enjoyed.
“You should not have said that either......” Khan thought.
“Sir, I have not had time to get squared away, nor take proper meals, rest, or engage in personal training. As I recall, the Starfleet Command Guide specifies that no officer, commissioned or non-commission should serve no more than 2 consecutive shifts without at least 7 hours of rest in between, unless under attack, during war, or planetary/intergalactic disaster(s).” T'Marr quoted to the “t”.
“And what, Commander do you propose I do about it?” Tyr challenged.
"Ops!" Khan thought.
“Not a thing, Sir. I've already taken the liberty of ordering Lt. Commander Gilgamesh to take over the comm, and I've placed myself on sick leave for the next 72 hours. At such time, I will return to my duties, or to the brig if you so desire, Sir.” T'Marr replied. Then turned on her heel, and exited The Lion's Den without so much as a bye your leave, Sir.
After the doors hushed closed, Tyr's immediate response was to sit back down his chair and place his forehead into his left palm.
“Need some ice for that?” Khan asked.
“For what?” Tyr asked. Disgruntled that T'Marr had marched right into his Ready Room and had completely turned the tables on him in less then ten minutes. Showing him SHE had the upper, hand not him. A challenge no Alpha Nietzschean male could ignore.
“That headache she gave you.” Khan said, as he chuffed.
“Ouch!” he continued, then fled because Tyr was up out of his chair and seconds away from attempting to throttle him. It was the Katay's lightning quick reflexes which thwarted the Nietzschean's attempt.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Khan said, as he wagged his index finger at Tyr, as if he were a bad boy. “Always remember, four legs are faster than two.” he continued. Reminding Tyr that in an emergency Katay arms and hands could be pressed into service to either fight or flee. It didn't stop Tyr from trying, though.
Tyr crossed his office and sprawled himself on his sofa, thereby signaling the conflicts end.
“So, what plan to do with Commander T'Marr, the Vulcan Firebrand?” Khan asked. Tyr tilted his head back to look up at Khan, smiled then roared with mirth.
“Finally, a Commander who is not afraid to stand up to me!” Tyr said. “If those others had only asked, I would've given them quarter. But, no one did, that is why they are no longer under my command. I refuse to be a leader of people who are terrified of me. I will do nothing to T'Marr. In fact, I will increase the 72 hours to two weeks. She deserves the rest.” he continued. Captain Tyr Anasazi was all smiles.
“Tyr, are you sure you are not starting to favor T'Marr a just a wee bit?” Khan asked, as he pulled his whiskers back. Tyr's face immediately went dark and sour.
“Khan?” Tyr growled.
“Yes, Tyr?” Khan replied, totally without guile.
“Drop it.” Tyr warned, coldly.
“Like a hot rock I will.” Khan replied. "For now. . . . . ." the Katay thought.
* * * * * * *
Free Enterprise - Exit Stage Left - Chapter #7
It was T'Marr's 10th day in purgatory when she decided she'd had enough! Despite the fact that she was fuming inside, she decided she was not going to scream, shout or use profanity (in any language or dialect). Nor was she going to go in “swinging”. T'Marr determined that she was going to handle the whole matter both professionally and logically.
The first step was to summon Lt. Commander Gilgamesh to the bridge to relieve her at the comm. Immediately upon her subordinate's arrival, she stood smartly, made a textbook military right and headed for the door of Captain Anasazi's Ready Room. Which by the way had been formally dubbed “The Lion's Den” by the crew.
* * * * *
The Insurrection's Captain was currently in the midst of studying a complicated set of quantum physics problems, on his desk console screen. He was doing this because his Chief Engineer told him this equation described a method which would improve the Insurrection's engines optimum output by 40%.
Tyr was checking because Nietzscheans were firm believers in exercising their minds as well as their bodies. He was also checking because he didn't want his ship to blow up, after his Engineer made said adjustments.
His mind screeched to a halt in the middle of his computations, as Khan spoke:
“Remember I warned you 2 days ago T'Marr was going to confront you?”
“How could I not?” Tyr rumbled. Ticked off that his concentration had been disturbed and was now scattered like a frightened flock of chickens. The answer was just a hair's breath away, too ........
“It's show time.” Khan said, as the door chime sounded. Both Katay and Nietzschean stared at one another.
“Someone's knocking on the door. Someone's ringin' the bell. Do me a favor, open the door and let 'em in. . . .” Khan sang, part of a stanza from a very old Earth song recorded by a group called "The Beatles".
Tyr utterly detested when Khan sang. It wasn't fair that Khan, a giant cat, who occasionally licked himself to keep clean (when sonics were unavailable), had a better singing voice than him.
“Enter.” Tyr said, after standing and giving Khan a warning gaze letting him know “this is not yet over.”
When T'Marr stepped into the room she found both Tyr and Khan staring disinterestedly out of the viewport.
“Damn!” she thought to herself. For she was looking forward to speaking with the Captain WITHOUT his flunky. The Nietzschean Captain, who had not mastered the art of pleasantly greeting people in the morning, merely turned to face T'Marr and crossed his powerfully muscled arms, and displaying his boneblades. A defensive posture Khan noted, and pulled his whiskers back in the Katay equivalent of a smile.
"All of this to impress a mere kit of a woman." Khan thought.
“Captain Anasazi. I request permission to speak to you in private, Sir.” she said, as she stood at attention. Silently, Khan made as if to leave. However, Tyr's voice stopped him.
“Permission denied. Khan stays. In addition to him being my Yeoman, he is officially designated as the Insurrections Counselor. I assure you that what you say here, will stay here.” Tyr intoned.
“Very well. Then I ask permission to speak freely and off the record, Sir.” T'Marr replied. Seemingly nonplussed by that revelation.
“Speak.” Tyr said.
“Oh-oh!” Khan thought.
“I arrived on the Insurrection 10 days, 15 hours, and 27 seconds ago. Since then I have only been allowed 3 hours between 10 to 12 hours shifts. . . .” T'Marr began.
“Commander! Spit it out in plain English please!” Tyr demanded. He was not in the mood for the verbal jousting Vulcans reportedly enjoyed.
“You should not have said that either......” Khan thought.
“Sir, I have not had time to get squared away, nor take proper meals, rest, or engage in personal training. As I recall, the Starfleet Command Guide specifies that no officer, commissioned or non-commission should serve no more than 2 consecutive shifts without at least 7 hours of rest in between, unless under attack, during war, or planetary/intergalactic disaster(s).” T'Marr quoted to the “t”.
“And what, Commander do you propose I do about it?” Tyr challenged.
"Ops!" Khan thought.
“Not a thing, Sir. I've already taken the liberty of ordering Lt. Commander Gilgamesh to take over the comm, and I've placed myself on sick leave for the next 72 hours. At such time, I will return to my duties, or to the brig if you so desire, Sir.” T'Marr replied. Then turned on her heel, and exited The Lion's Den without so much as a bye your leave, Sir.
After the doors hushed closed, Tyr's immediate response was to sit back down his chair and place his forehead into his left palm.
“Need some ice for that?” Khan asked.
“For what?” Tyr asked. Disgruntled that T'Marr had marched right into his Ready Room and had completely turned the tables on him in less then ten minutes. Showing him SHE had the upper, hand not him. A challenge no Alpha Nietzschean male could ignore.
“That headache she gave you.” Khan said, as he chuffed.
“Ouch!” he continued, then fled because Tyr was up out of his chair and seconds away from attempting to throttle him. It was the Katay's lightning quick reflexes which thwarted the Nietzschean's attempt.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Khan said, as he wagged his index finger at Tyr, as if he were a bad boy. “Always remember, four legs are faster than two.” he continued. Reminding Tyr that in an emergency Katay arms and hands could be pressed into service to either fight or flee. It didn't stop Tyr from trying, though.
Tyr crossed his office and sprawled himself on his sofa, thereby signaling the conflicts end.
“So, what plan to do with Commander T'Marr, the Vulcan Firebrand?” Khan asked. Tyr tilted his head back to look up at Khan, smiled then roared with mirth.
“Finally, a Commander who is not afraid to stand up to me!” Tyr said. “If those others had only asked, I would've given them quarter. But, no one did, that is why they are no longer under my command. I refuse to be a leader of people who are terrified of me. I will do nothing to T'Marr. In fact, I will increase the 72 hours to two weeks. She deserves the rest.” he continued. Captain Tyr Anasazi was all smiles.
“Tyr, are you sure you are not starting to favor T'Marr a just a wee bit?” Khan asked, as he pulled his whiskers back. Tyr's face immediately went dark and sour.
“Khan?” Tyr growled.
“Yes, Tyr?” Khan replied, totally without guile.
“Drop it.” Tyr warned, coldly.
“Like a hot rock I will.” Khan replied. "For now. . . . . ." the Katay thought.
Fight Club - Chapter 6
Free Enterprise - Fight Club - Chapter #6
Five days of drills and war games later, and T'Marr was seeing stars. Figuratively speaking of course. She had not had a decent days rest since she had set foot on The Insurrection. Vulcans were capable of going for long periods with little or no sleep. But, in T'Marr's mind there was no logical reason for her to be pulling double and triple shifts.
She wondered if this was the standard method of operation Captain Anazasi used to vet out his new commanders. If it was, it resembled some kind of old fashioned “hazing” technique. Something Starfleet had outlawed and banned upon it's inception.
T'Marr had planned to approach Captain Anasazi about the matter, as soon as possible. However with all that was going on, the right time never presented itself. Which frustrated her even more. . . . . .
Captain Anasazi on the hand was having the time of his life. The Nietzschean captain was fully in his element and liked nothing better than being in the heat of battle. When his ships were not beating the tar out of the Klingon ships, he and Captain Tollok were sparing in one of the Insurrection's gyms and beating the tar out of one another.
In Tyr's mind, the Klingons were already beaten before they faced him. He just had to confirm it by handing them their butts to them on a platter. Whether he did it with phasers, photon torpedoes or fists, bat'leth, fighting staves, etc, it didn't matter. Nietzscheans possessed a single mindedness when it came to victory.
The Klingons were a stubborn lot, and had to see for themselves, every time. . . . . . . .
Nights were spent partying and feasting. Tyr donned his hated "Class A's" and made appearances in the name of being diplomatic. But, diplomacy was not the Nietzschean captain's strong suit. Like Earth's General MacArthur, he was a man of action, not of what his father Barbarossa used to call “honeyed words”.
Tyr found out early in his Starfleet career that the less he spoke while in the company of so called dignitaries and diplomats, the less trouble he got into. That's why he surrounded himself with people to represent and speak for him. So, he stood in a corner, surrounded by some of his crew, sipping Altair Water (because Nietzscheans were consummate health freaks and did not imbibe), occassionally nibbling on fresh fruit or veggies, and watched.
However, T'Marr seemed like she was born to diplomicy. She was especially helpful in steering Tollok's twin sisters away from her captain. Even though the word “ugly” does not exist in the Klingon language, both women were ugly enough to make a freight train take a dirt road. Unfortunately they both had zeroed in on, and had their “caps set” for none other than Captain Tyr Anasazi!
T'Marr had forewarned Tyr that scowling, glowering, growling, giving the evil eye, looking threatening and intimidating (actions which usually sent most beings scurrying) did not scare off Klingon women. In fact, it served to turn them on.
But, the hard headed Nietzschean did not heed T'Marr's words of warning. Because of this, Tyr's groupies stuck to him like glue and followed him practically everywhere. Had T'Marr, Khan, Kori and Gilgamesh not been there all night to “cover his six” Tyr would've been kidnapped and taken back to the Klingon Empire. . . . . . .
Alas the night, early morning ended and everyone bid each other goodbye. Those who weren't plastered on Blood Wine, or sick on gargh, that is. The Klingons went back to their ships with stories to tell. More lies about their supposed victories. The Captain retired to his Ready Room to finish up a few details before retiring for a few hours.
He found Khan waiting for him. Not a good sign. Both Katay and Nietzschean locked eyes before Tyr sat at his desk.
“What are you doing to T'Marr?” Khan asked after a few minutes of silence, as Tyr worked away at his desk console. Tyr's fingers froze in mid-air as he tilted his head to look up at Khan.
“What do you mean, Cat?” he asked. Obviously, he was not in the mood.
“The back to back shifts. The woman has not had time to unpack or rest since she arrived. Were she Human, she would've definitely taken you to task.” Khan replied.
“I am quite sure that when you have your own command, Khan, you will employ your own methods of testing those who serve under you. This is my ship therefore I will employ my methods.” Tyr stated firmly in his infamous “back off” tone.
“A pity.” Khan said. Tyr raised an inquiring eyebrow. “T'Marr is not like the others. She is going to rebel and kick up her heels in your face. And you are going to deserve every blow she gives you.” Khan said, sagely.
Again Katay and Nietzschean stared each other down. "It is high time you learned my friend, that a woman, no matter what race or species, is nothing to toy with. Wait for it, because it is coming. . . " the Katay continued.
Tyr sighed inwardly. He detested when Khan made his damned predictions right before he “hit the rack”. Why? Because he was never able to sleep afterwards.
Tyr knew that he'd spend his entire rest period turning Khan's words over in his mind. Trying to figure them out, and trying to avoid the inevitable. But, it was always a no win scenario with him and the Katay. The one thing Tyr never won. . . . . . . .
Five days of drills and war games later, and T'Marr was seeing stars. Figuratively speaking of course. She had not had a decent days rest since she had set foot on The Insurrection. Vulcans were capable of going for long periods with little or no sleep. But, in T'Marr's mind there was no logical reason for her to be pulling double and triple shifts.
She wondered if this was the standard method of operation Captain Anazasi used to vet out his new commanders. If it was, it resembled some kind of old fashioned “hazing” technique. Something Starfleet had outlawed and banned upon it's inception.
T'Marr had planned to approach Captain Anasazi about the matter, as soon as possible. However with all that was going on, the right time never presented itself. Which frustrated her even more. . . . . .
Captain Anasazi on the hand was having the time of his life. The Nietzschean captain was fully in his element and liked nothing better than being in the heat of battle. When his ships were not beating the tar out of the Klingon ships, he and Captain Tollok were sparing in one of the Insurrection's gyms and beating the tar out of one another.
In Tyr's mind, the Klingons were already beaten before they faced him. He just had to confirm it by handing them their butts to them on a platter. Whether he did it with phasers, photon torpedoes or fists, bat'leth, fighting staves, etc, it didn't matter. Nietzscheans possessed a single mindedness when it came to victory.
The Klingons were a stubborn lot, and had to see for themselves, every time. . . . . . . .
Nights were spent partying and feasting. Tyr donned his hated "Class A's" and made appearances in the name of being diplomatic. But, diplomacy was not the Nietzschean captain's strong suit. Like Earth's General MacArthur, he was a man of action, not of what his father Barbarossa used to call “honeyed words”.
Tyr found out early in his Starfleet career that the less he spoke while in the company of so called dignitaries and diplomats, the less trouble he got into. That's why he surrounded himself with people to represent and speak for him. So, he stood in a corner, surrounded by some of his crew, sipping Altair Water (because Nietzscheans were consummate health freaks and did not imbibe), occassionally nibbling on fresh fruit or veggies, and watched.
However, T'Marr seemed like she was born to diplomicy. She was especially helpful in steering Tollok's twin sisters away from her captain. Even though the word “ugly” does not exist in the Klingon language, both women were ugly enough to make a freight train take a dirt road. Unfortunately they both had zeroed in on, and had their “caps set” for none other than Captain Tyr Anasazi!
T'Marr had forewarned Tyr that scowling, glowering, growling, giving the evil eye, looking threatening and intimidating (actions which usually sent most beings scurrying) did not scare off Klingon women. In fact, it served to turn them on.
But, the hard headed Nietzschean did not heed T'Marr's words of warning. Because of this, Tyr's groupies stuck to him like glue and followed him practically everywhere. Had T'Marr, Khan, Kori and Gilgamesh not been there all night to “cover his six” Tyr would've been kidnapped and taken back to the Klingon Empire. . . . . . .
Alas the night, early morning ended and everyone bid each other goodbye. Those who weren't plastered on Blood Wine, or sick on gargh, that is. The Klingons went back to their ships with stories to tell. More lies about their supposed victories. The Captain retired to his Ready Room to finish up a few details before retiring for a few hours.
He found Khan waiting for him. Not a good sign. Both Katay and Nietzschean locked eyes before Tyr sat at his desk.
“What are you doing to T'Marr?” Khan asked after a few minutes of silence, as Tyr worked away at his desk console. Tyr's fingers froze in mid-air as he tilted his head to look up at Khan.
“What do you mean, Cat?” he asked. Obviously, he was not in the mood.
“The back to back shifts. The woman has not had time to unpack or rest since she arrived. Were she Human, she would've definitely taken you to task.” Khan replied.
“I am quite sure that when you have your own command, Khan, you will employ your own methods of testing those who serve under you. This is my ship therefore I will employ my methods.” Tyr stated firmly in his infamous “back off” tone.
“A pity.” Khan said. Tyr raised an inquiring eyebrow. “T'Marr is not like the others. She is going to rebel and kick up her heels in your face. And you are going to deserve every blow she gives you.” Khan said, sagely.
Again Katay and Nietzschean stared each other down. "It is high time you learned my friend, that a woman, no matter what race or species, is nothing to toy with. Wait for it, because it is coming. . . " the Katay continued.
Tyr sighed inwardly. He detested when Khan made his damned predictions right before he “hit the rack”. Why? Because he was never able to sleep afterwards.
Tyr knew that he'd spend his entire rest period turning Khan's words over in his mind. Trying to figure them out, and trying to avoid the inevitable. But, it was always a no win scenario with him and the Katay. The one thing Tyr never won. . . . . . . .
Under The Gun - Chapter 5
Free Enterprise - Under The Gun - Chapter 5
It was a good thing T'Marr arrived early for her shift. It seemed the second she'd stepped off the lift, she was informed that Captain Tyr wished to see her.
“So much for looking forward to a nice, quiet morning.” she thought, as she buzzed for entrance.
“Enter.” Tyr's voice called. T'Marr entered and stood at attention. The captain was sitting at his desk with his fingers steepled as he gazed wordlessly at her. Khan was standing with his back to them, while gazing out of the window at the stars. The “I'm here, but not here” stance.
“At ease, Commander.” Tyr said. T'Marr slipped into parade rest.
“I have been reviewing your service record and noted some inconsistencies. Would you mind explaining them to me?” he continued.
“Oh hell. . .” T'Marr thought, as her facial expression maintained the Vulcan stoic norm.
“Inconsistencies, Sir?” she asked.
“Medical leaves, with no specific reason listed. The latest one extended over a period of two years.” Tyr said. T'Marr steeled herself for what she had to say.
“It has to do with the Vulcan mating cycle, and is called Pon Farr.” she stated, as she watched Captain Anasazi sit back in his chair, prop his right elbow up on the right chair arm, rest his chin on his fist, and gaze intently at her. Meaning: “I'm waiting to hear more.”
“Vulcans are universally granted medical leave by Starfleet for Pon Farr.” T'Marr continued.
“There first four medical leaves were approximately two months long. However the last leave. . . .” Tyr started.
“There were complications, Sir.” T'Marr stated, suddenly standing at attention again.
Tyr didn't miss the nuance.
“What kind of complications, Commander?” Tyr asked.
“They are of a very personal nature and I prefer not to discuss them at this time, Sir.” she replied.
“Will these so-called complications affect your ability to function on this ship, Commander?” Tyr grilled.
“No, Sir. They will not, Sir.” T'Marr replied.
“If they do, you are to seek immediate assistance from Yeoman Khan, Doctor Kori, or myself. Have I made myself clear, Commander?” Tyr stated authoritatively.
“Yes, Sir.” T'Marr replied.
“You are dismissed.” Tyr said. T'Marr executed a textbook parade right and strode out of the Ready Room.
Once she was gone, Khan turned from the window to gaze at a smiling Tyr.
“She has told you nothing.” Khan said. The smile fell off Tyr's face like a stone falling off a cliff. Tyr scowled at his friend.
“But she told me. . . .” he started.
“Have you ever seen an iceberg, Tyr?” Khan asked.
“I've seen holos of them. What does that have to do with our conversation?” Tyr asked.
In response, Khan activated Tyr's desk screen, accessed the net and brought up a holo of an iceberg. It was a typical holo of a hulking mass of ice floating on the surface of a sea on Any Planet.
“Those of us who know icebergs, know that the visible part of it, is just the surface and shallow part. The real danger lies beneath the surface.” Khan stated, as the computer automatically rotated the shot to show the gigantic and vast piece of ice which hung under the water.
“Trust me, she only told you the surface.” Khan continued, sagely.
Tyr was about to reply when he was hailed by the bridge.
“Captain. We have reached the rendezvous point for scheduled war games with The Cochise, Sitting Bull, Black Hoof, Geronimo, and Chief Joseph. The IKV In'Cha, Gowron, and The Gorkon. The Martok, and Azetbur will be arrive in approximately ten minutes.” T'Marr intoned.
“Damned Klingons are always late. They would be late to their own funnarel, if it were possible.” Tyr groused to himself, as he left his Ready Room and stepped on to the bridge. T'Marr immediately stood and turned over command to him, retreating to an unattended auxiliary station. On ships which had Nietzschean captains, there was only ONE center seat. . . .
Tyr sat back as the seat reformed itself to fit him and watched the three Klingon ships grow larger on the main viewer. They approached the line of Starships which were already waiting.
“Azetbur is hailing us, Sir.” Ensign DeMato called out, ten minutes later. It was his first day on the Insurrection's bridge, and he was scared to death of Captain Tyr. Tyr knew it because he could smell the man's fear, but he ignored it.
“Put it on screen, Ensign.” he ordered. The view switched from space to the bridge of the Azetbur and her captain.
“Captain Tollok of the Azetbur speaking. And who might you be?” the giant of a Klingon male asked.
“Captain Tyr Anasazi of the U.S.S. Insurrection.” Tyr replied. He'd made sure he was seated so that the visual pickup would show his bone blades.
“Ah, a Nietzschean.” Tollok said.
“You are late.” Tyr stated.
“We had a little problem with our warp coils. We didn't want to blow up before we got here. It was either that or we would've had to get out and push.” Tollock replied, and chuckled at his own quip. Tyr rolled his eyes and privately wondered how the Klingons managed to make it into space in the first place.
“Exercise to commence in five minutes.” Tyr stated. He had been designated as the official leader of said war games, and he was going to give them hell.
It was a good thing T'Marr arrived early for her shift. It seemed the second she'd stepped off the lift, she was informed that Captain Tyr wished to see her.
“So much for looking forward to a nice, quiet morning.” she thought, as she buzzed for entrance.
“Enter.” Tyr's voice called. T'Marr entered and stood at attention. The captain was sitting at his desk with his fingers steepled as he gazed wordlessly at her. Khan was standing with his back to them, while gazing out of the window at the stars. The “I'm here, but not here” stance.
“At ease, Commander.” Tyr said. T'Marr slipped into parade rest.
“I have been reviewing your service record and noted some inconsistencies. Would you mind explaining them to me?” he continued.
“Oh hell. . .” T'Marr thought, as her facial expression maintained the Vulcan stoic norm.
“Inconsistencies, Sir?” she asked.
“Medical leaves, with no specific reason listed. The latest one extended over a period of two years.” Tyr said. T'Marr steeled herself for what she had to say.
“It has to do with the Vulcan mating cycle, and is called Pon Farr.” she stated, as she watched Captain Anasazi sit back in his chair, prop his right elbow up on the right chair arm, rest his chin on his fist, and gaze intently at her. Meaning: “I'm waiting to hear more.”
“Vulcans are universally granted medical leave by Starfleet for Pon Farr.” T'Marr continued.
“There first four medical leaves were approximately two months long. However the last leave. . . .” Tyr started.
“There were complications, Sir.” T'Marr stated, suddenly standing at attention again.
Tyr didn't miss the nuance.
“What kind of complications, Commander?” Tyr asked.
“They are of a very personal nature and I prefer not to discuss them at this time, Sir.” she replied.
“Will these so-called complications affect your ability to function on this ship, Commander?” Tyr grilled.
“No, Sir. They will not, Sir.” T'Marr replied.
“If they do, you are to seek immediate assistance from Yeoman Khan, Doctor Kori, or myself. Have I made myself clear, Commander?” Tyr stated authoritatively.
“Yes, Sir.” T'Marr replied.
“You are dismissed.” Tyr said. T'Marr executed a textbook parade right and strode out of the Ready Room.
Once she was gone, Khan turned from the window to gaze at a smiling Tyr.
“She has told you nothing.” Khan said. The smile fell off Tyr's face like a stone falling off a cliff. Tyr scowled at his friend.
“But she told me. . . .” he started.
“Have you ever seen an iceberg, Tyr?” Khan asked.
“I've seen holos of them. What does that have to do with our conversation?” Tyr asked.
In response, Khan activated Tyr's desk screen, accessed the net and brought up a holo of an iceberg. It was a typical holo of a hulking mass of ice floating on the surface of a sea on Any Planet.
“Those of us who know icebergs, know that the visible part of it, is just the surface and shallow part. The real danger lies beneath the surface.” Khan stated, as the computer automatically rotated the shot to show the gigantic and vast piece of ice which hung under the water.
“Trust me, she only told you the surface.” Khan continued, sagely.
Tyr was about to reply when he was hailed by the bridge.
“Captain. We have reached the rendezvous point for scheduled war games with The Cochise, Sitting Bull, Black Hoof, Geronimo, and Chief Joseph. The IKV In'Cha, Gowron, and The Gorkon. The Martok, and Azetbur will be arrive in approximately ten minutes.” T'Marr intoned.
“Damned Klingons are always late. They would be late to their own funnarel, if it were possible.” Tyr groused to himself, as he left his Ready Room and stepped on to the bridge. T'Marr immediately stood and turned over command to him, retreating to an unattended auxiliary station. On ships which had Nietzschean captains, there was only ONE center seat. . . .
Tyr sat back as the seat reformed itself to fit him and watched the three Klingon ships grow larger on the main viewer. They approached the line of Starships which were already waiting.
“Azetbur is hailing us, Sir.” Ensign DeMato called out, ten minutes later. It was his first day on the Insurrection's bridge, and he was scared to death of Captain Tyr. Tyr knew it because he could smell the man's fear, but he ignored it.
“Put it on screen, Ensign.” he ordered. The view switched from space to the bridge of the Azetbur and her captain.
“Captain Tollok of the Azetbur speaking. And who might you be?” the giant of a Klingon male asked.
“Captain Tyr Anasazi of the U.S.S. Insurrection.” Tyr replied. He'd made sure he was seated so that the visual pickup would show his bone blades.
“Ah, a Nietzschean.” Tollok said.
“You are late.” Tyr stated.
“We had a little problem with our warp coils. We didn't want to blow up before we got here. It was either that or we would've had to get out and push.” Tollock replied, and chuckled at his own quip. Tyr rolled his eyes and privately wondered how the Klingons managed to make it into space in the first place.
“Exercise to commence in five minutes.” Tyr stated. He had been designated as the official leader of said war games, and he was going to give them hell.
A Doctor In The House - Chapter 4
NOTE: The correct way to pronounce "Tyr" is "TEAR", like the crying kind. Please, don't feel bad, I said "TIRE: for years. . . . . LOL!
* * * * * * * *
Free Enterprise - A Doctor In The House - Chapter 4
Four hours later, a thoroughly refreshed Tyr Anasazi made an appearance in Sickbay. Dr. Kori looked up from examining Ensign Jessica Torres, at her Nietzschean Captain and frowned. The look in the man's eyes brooked no nonsense, so she called her assistant to take over, and motioned him into her inner sanctum.
Inside of her office, it seemed that every flat surface held some kind of plant. Dr. Kori was an avid Botanist and loved to be surrounded with “growing things”. Tyr scowled at her favorite, a Kensington-Smythe plant named Darwin.
“Darwin is asleep, so you don't have to worry about his input.” Kori said as she sat. Tyr continued to stand, and glower at the plant. The damned plant was a magpie and gossip when awake, and what he had to say was confidential. Taking a cue from her Captain, Kori shouted:
“Darwin!”
The plant shook itself awake and stared at both of them with googly eyes.
“Right inna middle of a good dream too . . .” he groused.
“Darwin. Be a darling and go down to Hydroponics for about an hour, okay?” Kori said.
“And, good morning to you too.” Darwin replied, in a snit. If he had a tongue he would've poked it out at Kori. He activated an anti-grav devise which was attached to his planter, and floated towards the door.
“Good Morning, Captain.” he said cheerfully as an afterthought. The doors whooshed shut behind him.
“Now, what do you want?” Kori demanded, as she frowned. This was typical Klingon protocol, be rude to everyone!
Nietzscheans as a whole were healthy as horses and had little need for doctors. Oh they had them, just in case of emergencies, that's why her assistant was a Nietzschean physician. Dr. Freya had become a doctor because she was fascinated with Human (Homo Sapien) diseases and injuries.
“Commander T'Marr. Is there anything I should know?” he asked.
“She is in perfect physical health. She has been psychologically cleared by Dr. Tovar of Vulcan and Dr N'Toll of Starfleet.” Kori replied.
“I noticed she had taken several medical leaves in the past, and I was curious as to their nature.” Tyr asked.
“Ah, those.” Kori replied, as she smiled to herself. “There are certain things that Vulcans must do approximately every seven years or so. Especially the unbonded ones.” she continued. Tyr frowned, because his Chief Medical Officer was confusing him even more.
“And what might that be?” he asked.
“Sorry Captain, but here is where I officially enact Patient/Doctor Confidentiality. If you want to know more, you will have to ask her yourself. As it stands, I am not at liberty to say. Were it under other circumstances, I would have.” Kori said.
“Those circumstances would not happen to be a condition which may endanger my ship and crew, would they?” Tyr asked dangerously, anyone else would have run for the hills at that tone. Kori, Klingon to the bone, merely rolled her eyes and smiled.
“I repeat, I am not at liberty to say, Captain. Have a wonderful day.” She said, as she stood and headed for the door. The tone and action was very clear. He may be Captain of The Insurrection, but, he'd just been tossed out of Sickbay! By a Klingon, no less. . . . . . .
* * * * * * * * *
Tyr arrived on the bridge and repaired to his Ready Room immediately. Khan was already there, setting up his breakfast. The Katay took one look at the storm clouds on The Captain's face, and pricked his ears and whiskers forward.
“You read T'Marr's service record I gather. . . . .” Khan started.
“It was so heavily redacted, I suspect the woman was or is a spy.” Tyr cut in. “As soon as she reports for duty, I wish to speak to her.” he continued, as he took up his fork and began to eat. Khan relayed, the orders and sat across from his captain.
“She is not going to tell you.” Khan said out of the blue. The small hairs stood on the back of Tyr's neck stood on end, as they often did when Khan made one of his predictions.
“I can order her to do so.” Tyr replied.
“Tyr, Tyr, Tyr. You truly don't understand women, do you? There are some things a woman would never tell a man, simply because a man would never understand. Just because you are the captain and order her to do so, she does not have to tell you anything. You cannot put someone on report for not divulging personal information, they deem private.” Khan replied.
“If it concerns the safety of my ship. . . . .” Tyr growled.
“However, I will tell you this. Her Vulcan parents were intelligence operatives for Section 31. They were on a husband and wife team assignment when they were assassinated.” Khan interrupted.
It was a good thing Tyr had thoroughly chewed and swallowed his scrambled eggs and toast. For, he would've choked.
* * * * * * * *
Free Enterprise - A Doctor In The House - Chapter 4
Four hours later, a thoroughly refreshed Tyr Anasazi made an appearance in Sickbay. Dr. Kori looked up from examining Ensign Jessica Torres, at her Nietzschean Captain and frowned. The look in the man's eyes brooked no nonsense, so she called her assistant to take over, and motioned him into her inner sanctum.
Inside of her office, it seemed that every flat surface held some kind of plant. Dr. Kori was an avid Botanist and loved to be surrounded with “growing things”. Tyr scowled at her favorite, a Kensington-Smythe plant named Darwin.
“Darwin is asleep, so you don't have to worry about his input.” Kori said as she sat. Tyr continued to stand, and glower at the plant. The damned plant was a magpie and gossip when awake, and what he had to say was confidential. Taking a cue from her Captain, Kori shouted:
“Darwin!”
The plant shook itself awake and stared at both of them with googly eyes.
“Right inna middle of a good dream too . . .” he groused.
“Darwin. Be a darling and go down to Hydroponics for about an hour, okay?” Kori said.
“And, good morning to you too.” Darwin replied, in a snit. If he had a tongue he would've poked it out at Kori. He activated an anti-grav devise which was attached to his planter, and floated towards the door.
“Good Morning, Captain.” he said cheerfully as an afterthought. The doors whooshed shut behind him.
“Now, what do you want?” Kori demanded, as she frowned. This was typical Klingon protocol, be rude to everyone!
Nietzscheans as a whole were healthy as horses and had little need for doctors. Oh they had them, just in case of emergencies, that's why her assistant was a Nietzschean physician. Dr. Freya had become a doctor because she was fascinated with Human (Homo Sapien) diseases and injuries.
“Commander T'Marr. Is there anything I should know?” he asked.
“She is in perfect physical health. She has been psychologically cleared by Dr. Tovar of Vulcan and Dr N'Toll of Starfleet.” Kori replied.
“I noticed she had taken several medical leaves in the past, and I was curious as to their nature.” Tyr asked.
“Ah, those.” Kori replied, as she smiled to herself. “There are certain things that Vulcans must do approximately every seven years or so. Especially the unbonded ones.” she continued. Tyr frowned, because his Chief Medical Officer was confusing him even more.
“And what might that be?” he asked.
“Sorry Captain, but here is where I officially enact Patient/Doctor Confidentiality. If you want to know more, you will have to ask her yourself. As it stands, I am not at liberty to say. Were it under other circumstances, I would have.” Kori said.
“Those circumstances would not happen to be a condition which may endanger my ship and crew, would they?” Tyr asked dangerously, anyone else would have run for the hills at that tone. Kori, Klingon to the bone, merely rolled her eyes and smiled.
“I repeat, I am not at liberty to say, Captain. Have a wonderful day.” She said, as she stood and headed for the door. The tone and action was very clear. He may be Captain of The Insurrection, but, he'd just been tossed out of Sickbay! By a Klingon, no less. . . . . . .
* * * * * * * * *
Tyr arrived on the bridge and repaired to his Ready Room immediately. Khan was already there, setting up his breakfast. The Katay took one look at the storm clouds on The Captain's face, and pricked his ears and whiskers forward.
“You read T'Marr's service record I gather. . . . .” Khan started.
“It was so heavily redacted, I suspect the woman was or is a spy.” Tyr cut in. “As soon as she reports for duty, I wish to speak to her.” he continued, as he took up his fork and began to eat. Khan relayed, the orders and sat across from his captain.
“She is not going to tell you.” Khan said out of the blue. The small hairs stood on the back of Tyr's neck stood on end, as they often did when Khan made one of his predictions.
“I can order her to do so.” Tyr replied.
“Tyr, Tyr, Tyr. You truly don't understand women, do you? There are some things a woman would never tell a man, simply because a man would never understand. Just because you are the captain and order her to do so, she does not have to tell you anything. You cannot put someone on report for not divulging personal information, they deem private.” Khan replied.
“If it concerns the safety of my ship. . . . .” Tyr growled.
“However, I will tell you this. Her Vulcan parents were intelligence operatives for Section 31. They were on a husband and wife team assignment when they were assassinated.” Khan interrupted.
It was a good thing Tyr had thoroughly chewed and swallowed his scrambled eggs and toast. For, he would've choked.
Untangling Knots - Chapter 3
NOTE: I would be remiss in not giving my readers at least a little history about the Nietzscheans, so here it is:
Nietzscheans
(Homo Sapiens Invictus)
Physical Characteristics
Nietzscheans are bigger, faster and stronger than normal Humans. They are immune to most poisons and diseases. They can breathe chlorine gas without harm. They can eat a much wider variety of foods, survive in harsher environments, and pride themselves on thriving where normal humans wouldn't dare to tread.
Reproductive Method
Nietzscheans most commonly practice a modified pair bonding form of reproduction which various males compete to win the favor of reproductive-age females, who choose their consorts on the basis of genetic fitness more than emotional compatibility. It is not uncommon for a high status male to have more than one female consort. Think of the combination of a wolf pack, and a lion pride.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Free Enterprise - Untangling Knots - Chapter 3
It was the middle of Gamma Shift and Captain Tyr Anasazi was still awake. Why? Nietzscehans being genetically engineered to “take a licking and keep on ticking”, did not require as much sleep as their Homo Sapien cousins.
Tyr had just completed a grueling workout which included personal aerobics, weight training, and sparing with his fellow pride members. He'd showered, and devoured a huge salad. Now, he was ready to tackle some reading. First on his list, T'Marr's Starfleet service record.
It took some time and some finagling, even with his Starfleet Captain's clearances to access her information. It seemed as if the powers that be, didn't want wanted T'Marr to remain invisible. But, with Tyr was both extremely patient and computer savoy, and was able to access her records. Here is what he read:
T'Marr McPhearson
Born to Soval and T'Noh
At her birth a legal document was drawn up by the intergalactic law firm of, Toval, Glick, & Svenstrup that Lawrence and Monique McPhearson would become her legal guardians in case something happened to them. Six months later, both parents were mysteriously assassinated.
"Assassinated," Tyr thought. "What the ......,"
After that: NO FURTHER DETAILS.
The records then went on to depict her childhood.
T'Marr was raised by the McPhearsons who were an African American couple. Oddly enough, T'Mar was their first child, and they had ten natural children after her. All of which she helped to raise. She had literally became part of the family, even though she was so radically different.
At age twenty-five, T'Marr got curious about her Vulcan heritage, and went back to Vulcan to immerse herself in Vulcan culture. She stayed on Vulcan for fifteen years. From there she applied to and admitted to Starfleet Academy. She took the command track and served with honors.
Tyr frowned when he read that during her career, T'Marr had taken four two month stretches which were designated as “medical leave”. He also noted that these "leaves" were approved by either a Vulcan physician, healer or both. She always returned at the appropriate time and continued her service.
However, the last time she took leave, not did she not return, but extra leave was mysteriously granted. There was a brief mention of the fact that she had returned to Vulcan. For what? NO FURTHER DETAILS.
What especially piqued Tyr's curiosity was the fact that there was no mention of the reason why she originally went missing. Only that she abruptly returned, and was certified for full duty. But, she continued her service as if nothing had occurred. Tyr frowned as he realized that aside from the mysterious gaps and holes, T'Marr's service had been exceptional.
In his past experience, there were three ways of dealing those in T'Marr's situation. 1. He could directly confront her and ask her for the missing information. 2. He could enlist his command staff to keep their eyes on her, and report back to him anything of interest, or out of the ordinary. 3. Or, he could personally continue to watch, and wait it out. It looked like he was going to have to do all three.
"What possessed me to ask for a Vulcan First Officer in the first place?" Tyr wondered to himself as he dozed off.
Into The Fire - Chapter 2
CAPTAIN "TYR ANASAZI"
NOTE TO READERS: I forgot to give you a very short tutorial. The word "Nietzschean" is pronounced KNEE-CHEE-ANN. I will try to give a little more history each time I add a chapter.
N.A.C.
Into The Fire - Chapter 2
T'Marr entered The Ready Room and beheld two things at one time. The Nietzschean Captain was standing with his thumbs hooked into his belt, as he gazed pensively out of the clear steel Ready Room window at the stars.
He was dressed in a modified version of a Starfleet Captain's uniform. His jacket was a sleeveless v-neck model which made allowances for his bone blades, and heavily muscled chest and arms. His waist length dreadlocks were tied back with a leather thong. The rest of the uniform fit his body like a glove. Inwardly, T'Marr tried hard not to stare. The holographic photos she'd seen of the man had done him no justice whatsoever! He was drop dead handsome!
“OMG! OMG! OMG!” T'Marr's human half thought. She quickly squashed those thoughts to deal with the present in her usual logical manner.
She lifted an eyebrow at the other occupant in the room. A male Katay. The bipedal felinenoid was the same height as Captain Tyr, and resembled a white Bengal Tiger. It too wore a modified version of a Starfleet uniform. A vest and knee length cargo shorts. It stood about a foot behind Tyr and gazed at her with knowing blue eyes.
It was said that approximately 10 percent of the Katay were precognitive. Most people thought they were on par with prophets because they were 100 percent accurate. This one looked like he'd seen T'Marr coming three lifetimes ago. . . . . . .
“Commander T'Marr McPhearson reporting for duty, sir.” she said crisply as she stood at attention.
“At ease, Commander.” Captain Tyr said as he turned to face her and pinned her green eyes with his penetrating brown ones. T'Marr stood at ease, but, felt like she was going to melt.
“This is my yeoman.” Tyr continued. Speaking of his felinenoid shadow.
“I am Khan.” The Katay rumbled, inclined his head slightly, and held out his paws/hands with claws retracted to show he was friendly. T'Marr inclined her head in response. And thought.
“Yeah, he's a yeoman like I'm a ring tailed lemur!”
Half of the universe were terrified of the Katay, and the other half worshiped and revered them. The Nietzscheans had allied themselves with the Katay because they were ruthless warriors, excellent strategists, and shipwrights. in short, they were brothers, except for the fur. Of course, a little precognitive info every once in a while was a boon.
“You should find a seat before the others get here.” Tyr said. It seemed the second the words left the Captain's lips, in strode a Klingon female.
Judging by the sciences blue in her uniform and the white lab coat, T'Marr deducted this was the Insurrection's Chief Medical Officer. Practically on her heels the following officers entered. Chief of Sciences, Chief of Engineering, Chief of Security. T'Marr noted they were all female, and raised her eyebrows.
* * * * * *
Approximately 30 minutes later, when the meeting ended. T'Marr was a tad disappointed that she was being assigned the com right off the bat. After all, didn't Captain Anasazi know she'd just arrived and needed to unpack and get squared away? Were she Human, or in her “Human State Of Mind”, she would've “went off on the Captain”, but she did not. T'Marr simply strode out of the Ready Room with the rest of Insurrection's Command Crew and claimed the center seat.
Though she was nearly as tall as the Captain, T'Marr was nearly swallowed up by Tyr's Atilla The Hun style captain's chair. She made herself comfortable as the chair automatically adjusted itself to fit her body size and shape. A Katay invention no doubt.
“Looks like this is going to be long night.” T'Marr thought to herself as she was handed a PADD to read and sign.
* * * * *
Meanwhile back in Tyr's Ready Room . . . . . .
“So. What did you think of her, Captain Anasazi?” Khan rumbled.
“I am of no opinion, Khan.” Tyr sighed.
“Really. I find it hard to believe that Captain Tyr Anasazi, out of Victory by Barbarossa has no opinion.” Khan purred.
“Thirty minutes is not enough time to properly asses a person's character, Khan.” Tyr returned.
“Yet, on the battle field, it takes a mere split second to decide whether to kill or spare. . . . . . . .” Khan persisted.
“She is efficient, dedicated and honorable. She would make an excellent second in command.” Tyr replied, cutting the Katay off rudely. Khan's whiskers twitched back, a Katay equivalent of a smile.
“And what of Gilgamesh? He has been looking forward to being promoted. . . . . .” Khan started.
“Gilgamesh knew the consequences of serving aboard the Insurrection under my command! One of them is the likelihood of being passed over for promotion.” Tyr stated, hotly.
Lt. Commander Gilgamesh was an Alpha male Nietzschean like Tyr and, from the moment he set foot on the Insurrection's deck, he'd challenged Tyr's authority, nipping his commnder's heels like a baby wolf cub.
Gilgamesh's hide had been saved by the fact that 1. He'd found and selected his "matriarch" from among Tyr's crew ( which kept him too occupied to continue his rebellious activities ). 2. He was also Tyr's favorite first cousin. Otherwise, he would have long been flushed out of the nearest airlock. Besides, Star Fleet frowned upon their captains “spacing” annoying officers and crew.
“Efficient, dedicated and honorable were not quite the words I was looking for.” Khan said, skillfully changing the subject of the conversation, as he was often wont to do.
Tyr turned his head and leveled a poisonous gaze at Khan. The very same expression which would've sent his subordinates scurrying for cover. But, Khan stood fast and stared right back.
“What pray tell would you have me say, Cat?” Tyr asked, using his personal nickname for the Katay. Tyr was the only person in the Gamma Quadrant allowed to call Khan that. Anyone else would've been killed where they stood . . . .
“Beautiful Vulcan flower.” Khan stated simply. Tyr's expression changed to a mega nova smile as he roared with mirth. However, his humor died down immediately when he noticed that his Katay friend & Yeoman was not chuffing along with him.
“Khan? What are you up to?” Tyr growled, dangerously.
The Nietzschean Captain was sick of people trying to “”hook him up”. Unfortunately, they did not understand the manner in which Nietzscheans selected their mates. Oh, he'd had a few dalliances, but the search for his matriarch continued. Like the Alpha wolf in a wolf pack, he'd have to put a serious hurting on a couple of tails first. Only then would the woman consider him worthy of mating with. Only the strong survived and THAT was the Nietzschean way. . . . . .
“Oh nothing, Captain. I just wanted to inform you that you ship has come in.” Khan replied. Tyr frowned, not quite understanding the idiom, but suddenly guessing the gist of it.
“Surely not. . . . . .” Tyr started.
“She also hates to be touched.” Khan continued.
“Vulcans are touch telepaths, and all touch telepaths loathe be touched. . . .” Tyr said.
“An incident occurred which caused touching to be even more loathsome to her. . . . . . . .” Khan started, then stopped.
Tyr was all ears now, but he knew the Katay was not going to give him any more information. It was just like the damned creature to tell him just enough info to whet his appetite, then leave him hanging.
This annoyed Tyr to no end. His father, Barbarossa had done the same thing to him when he was growing up. Barbarossa used this so-called method of instructing every one of his ten sons. And, he was especially hard on Tyr, who was the youngest, and supposed runt of the lot.
So, if Captain Anasazi wanted more information on Commander T'Marr McPhearson, he going to have to track it down on his own. He would also have to observe her the way the Earth Lion would watch the unsuspecting herd of gazelles from the African brush. And Tyr was an expert at observing . . . . . . .
He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn't realize he'd rose and left the Ready Room, until he was in the lift and heading down to Officer's Country. Back in the Ready Room, Khan simply pulled his whiskers back in a smile.
KHAN
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