NOTE TO READERS: You might see some odd behavior from our resident Alpha Nietzschean. Even though Tyr is obviously a big, strong and powerful man, he will defer to, and be very courtly to Tamarra, a woman who is half his size. Why? Because Nietzschean society is matriarchal and the women are highly respected. I hope I haven't caused even more confusion with this. :+}!.
ALSO: Nietzscheans are not divided along racial lines like their Human cousins. They are strictly divided along Pride lines. So you will see a vast mixture of Human races among them, but no racisiam.
************************
Free Enterprise - Issues! - Chapter 22
“Admiral on deck!” Lt Commander Xena Anol called, as Haxhis and her party exited the lift. Security on duty stood smartly at attention.
“At ease.” Haxhis said, as she headed into the Brig proper. Inside the Vulcans, upon hearing the commotion were all standing alert quietly at the doors of their cells, inches away from the force fields.
“I am Fleet Admiral Haxhistasa of the 3rd Fleet. I would like to speak to Solon.” she said authoritatively.
“I am, Solon.” was the answer as the head honcho of Vulcans Against Nietzscheans stepped forward.
“Leave us please.” Haxhis ordered Captain Anasazi and his people.
“Ma'am, is that wise?” Tyr asked.
“My people can and will handle it, Captain.” Haxhis said confidently. Indeed, for she was surrounded by Nietzscheans and Katay. Tyr took his staff and waited out in the corridor.
For perhaps the next hour and a half there was a spirited verbal dispute between the two leaders. However, Haxhis won and made a triumphant reappearance.
“Captain Anasazi, I will take possession of the prisoners and their property now.” she said. Tyr nodded to Xena and she and her people immediately went to work.
Solon and his 25 team members were taken under heavy guard to the main transporter room where their luggage awaited them. However, on the side was a cache of weapons which had been discovered secreted within said luggage.
“Impressive. Were you planning your own private little war?” Haxhis asked as she looked over the weapons cache. Solon remained silent. “As of this moment you are being removed from this ship.” she continued.
“How will we return to Vulcan?” Solon asked.
“Did you really think that you were going to return to Vulcan after what transpired here? Come, Come, Solon! You know better than that.”
“Then what. . . .” the Vulcan started.
“Captain Zenobia.” Haxhis called, and a tall and stately Nietzschean lady of obvious Asian decent, stepped forward.
“Captain Zenobia is the commanding officer of the U.S.S. Ticonderoga which will be your source of transportation. Have a good trip, Solon.” Haxhis stated. She could see Solon was winding up for another verbal joust, but she wasn't having it.
Captain Zenobia gave orders and the prisoners were led up on the transporter platform and systematically beamed away in guarded groups. Then the luggage was beamed away.
“Well, that should take care of those pains in the butt.” Haxhis said, as she pulled her whiskers back in a smile. “Oh my, I forgot to tell them two things. Number one, the Ticonderoga is crewed by Nietzscheans only! And two, they are going back to Vulcan, but they are taking the 'slow boat to China route', which will take them about six months. I figure by then, Solon and his people will either love Nietzscheans or kill them all. I trust your brethren will properly defend themselves, of course. . . . .” Haxhis continued, as she smiled in Tyr's direction.
“OMG! There'll be blood on the decks and bulkheads, and the Ticonderoga will become a ghost ship!” Tamarra thought.
“I see that as a far more fitting punishment than confinement to a prison where Solon could draw more followers into his poisonous beliefs and draw them into his odious group.” Haxhis said.
“After all, he did say they intended to study Nietzscheans. Well, they will certainly have plenty of time to that now.” Khan added. “Sounds a lot like Doctor R.H. Wolfe to me.” he continued.
Khan was speaking of the Human doctor who lived among the Nietzscheans to study them. His study was supposed to last only a year, but the Doctor wound up staying on Citadel ( one of the major Nietzschean home worlds ) for the duration of his life. He'd even taken two Nietzschean wives and had started his own pride. To this day Doctor R.H.Wolfe is revered as somewhat of a saint by the Nietzscheans.
“Agreed.” Tamarra said, as she wondered why Haxhis did not send Captain Bolivar back with the group. He needed to disappear for six months too. Instead he was there skewering her with his intense gray-eyed gaze. The exchange wasn't lost on Tyr or Khan.
“We have a serious problem here.” Khan thought.
“And now, we can settle down, have dinner and do a little reminiscing.” Haxhis said as she clapped her hand-paws.
“And I pray this doesn't turn into a food fight.” Khan thought. When two Alpha Nietzscheans were competing for a woman's attention, anything was bound to happen. His precog senses were on high alert.
* * * * * * *
Dinner was excellent. Haxhis and Tyr spent hours telling stories about the old Academy days. Tamarra was amazed at how many times Tyr was in trouble. She was equally amazed that Haxhis there to put the kibosh on Starfleet kicking him out on his Nietzschean butt. The fact that she was the crown Princess of Katay, and was his personal friend may have been the reason why.
The whole party broke up about 0100 hours and Tyr was escorting The Admiral back to the transporter room, with the rest of his crew following. Suddenly without warning Tamarra felt herself being dragged back a few feet. Then she heard “Wham!”
She didn't know who swung the first punch, but both Captains were giving each other the what for. Tamarra watched bug-eyed, winced, and cringed as Charlemagne grabbed a hand full of Tyr's dreadlocks and slammed his head into the bulkhead. Tyr swiftly turned the tables on Charlemagne and did the same to him, several times.
Security stepped forward to break it up, but Haxhis held up a hand-paw and ordered them to back off. It was now or never with those two.
“OMG!” Tamarra thought, as she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Tamarra, this is where Nietzschean women get out the organic popcorn and watch. You've got to see who your victor will be.” Khan said, in her left ear.
So, Tamarra watched Tyr and Charlemagne slug it out with each other. By rule, their combat had to be totally unarmed, and no bone blades. So, all they were using were fists, feet, and wits.
The contest ended when both men tangled for perhaps the 40th time and they both fell to the deck. There was a loud snap and groan, and Tyr stood. He was a tad unsteady, (having one's head slammed into a bulkhead tended to do that to one - Nietzschean or not) and bruised all over, but no worse for the wear. Charlemagne rolled into a sitting position then stood, cradling his left forearm. Captain Bolivar was in obvious pain.
“Well, I see my services are needed.” Kori said, as she stepped up to examine her Nietzschean patient.
“Come down to Sickbay with me, Sir, and I'll put a temporary cast on that arm to keep the bones straight until they heal.” Kori said. Knowing Nietzschean rapid self healing physiology, his arm bones would heal in about three and a half days.
“Whoa! That was deep.” Tamarra thought, as she and Tyr shared a deep meaningful gaze. The whole thing reminded her of the ancient Vulcan mating rite of Koon-ut-kal-if-fee. It was too emotionally overwhelming for her.
“I'm going to retire to my quarters.” she said, and beat a hasty retreat.
* * * * * * *
“The only reason I will put you two on report, is because I understand Nietzschean rituals. However, all of this could have been avoided, Tyr.” Haxhis said quietly. He frowned at her and noted she had her whiskers pulled back in good humor.
“According to Drago, there was no such thing as an avoidable battle.” Tyr started.
“. . . . .Unless there is a more opportune time and place.” Haxhis finished the quote. “Remember Tyr, if Tamarra looks good to you, she will also look good to someone else. Pounce on her while you can.” she continued, referring to the Katay mating ritual of “Stalk and Pounce”. However with Katay both male and female could initiate said rite.
* * * * * * *
Tamarra left, not walking, but running down the corridor to her quarters. When the doors were safely closed behind her, she freaked and cried for almost ten minutes.
“This is not right! I should not be feeling this way! I have several weeks yet!” she thought desperately to herself. “OMG! Did that fight trigger. . . .?” Tamarra didn't even want to “go there” in her mind.
“I will take a sonic shower, get comfortable and play a little music. That always calms me down.” she thought, as she went through the motions.
Dressed in an over sized t-shirt and shorts, Tamarra selected one of her guitars and began tuning it. She had just finished when her door chime rang, startling her badly.
“Calm down, girl! It's just the door.” she thought as she glanced at the desk chrono. It said 0200.
“Who the heck?” she thought. Then as quickly as she asked the mental question, the answer came to her. Tyr. She fought a great battle with herself as she went to the door, as her heart pounded like crazy.
The door opened and Tyr was standing there dressed in civilian clothing. Black jeans, a black T-shirt, and moccasins. On any other man that outfit would've made them look like a vagabond. On Tyr, it looked like a million bars of gold pressed latinum!
Tamarra stood aside and allowed him to come in, then dropped into an easy semi-lotus position on the sofa and picked up her guitar.
“I must apologize for my behavior earlier. . . . I failed to realize you do not fully comprehend Nietzschean rituals and customs. . . . . . .” Tyr started.
“Khan told me.” she said, softly. “That in winning the fight, you won the right to present yourself as a willing candidate to be my consort. If I will have you.” she continued.
“What is your decision then?” Tyr asked.
“I like you very much, Tyr. But, I cannot make that kind of decision right off the bat like that.” she said.
“Have I done anything to insult or offend you?” Tyr asked.
“No, Tyr. It's not you. It's me. I just need a little time, that's all.” she replied.
“Are you asking me to wait?” Tyr queried.
“Yes, please?” Tamarra asked.
“I will.” he promised. It felt like a ton of bricks were lifted off her shoulders and Tamarra began to play and sing:
I heard he sang a good song
I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him
To listen for a while
And there was this young boy
A stranger to my eyes
CHORUS
Strumin' my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
I felt a flushed with fever
Embarrassed by the crowd
He found my letters
And read each one aloud
I prayed that he would finish
But he kept right on
CHORUS
But he was there this stranger
singing clear and strong.
CHORUS
* * * * * * * *
"Who was that song about?" Tyr asked.
"I saw a very old archived interview with the songstress Aretha Franklin. She said the "he" was a ten year old, blind boy who was also a fortune teller. A damned good one too!" Tamara replied and smiled.
“I did not know you played and sang so well.” Tyr complimented.
“Thank you.” Tamarra said, as she carefully put her guitar aside and stood. Tyr stood also.
“Will you have dinner with me later?” he asked.
“Definitely. I will see you later then.” Tamarra replied and smiled. Tyr turned to go then stopped.
She knew what was coming before he did it and had steeled herself in barely enough time. He gave her a gentle and chaste kiss on her forehead, smiled at her then took his leave.
"Wow!" Tamarra thought, as she sat, then melted on to the sofa.
KOON-UT-KAL-IF-FEE
The kal-if-fee (which literally translates as "challenge") is a Vulcan "passion fight" to the death, in which two Vulcan males fight for the right to mate with a certain female. During the Vulcan mating ritual known as koon-ut-kal-if-fee, a female can claim kal-if-fee if she does not want the male arranged for her at childhood. At which point, the male arranged for her must fight the female's selected mate. (TOS: "Amok Time") Courtesy of Memory Alpha.org.
DEDICATED TO: "Robert Hewlett Wolfe" ( refered to as R.H. Wolfe in the story ) is the original creator of Tyr's charactor and the Nietzschean race for the show "Andromeda". According to an interview with Keith Hamilton Cobb, the part of "Tyr Anasazi" was specifically written and tailored for him by RHW. Yes, he deserves to have his own Pride! If you would like a link to said interview, please PM me.
The song Tamara sings is: The first "Killing Me Softly" sung by Aretha Franklin. Not the recently produced jazzed up version which is missing most of the words. . . . . .
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Rendezvous - Chapter 21
CHARLEMAGNE BOLIVAR
Free Enterprise - Rendezvous - Chapter 21
Tyr remembered that Haxhis was a habitually early Katay. She may have told him four hours, but she would definitely arrive a half hour early. That is why he was sitting in his command chair and waiting three hours and fifteen minutes later.
He was sprawled and casually spinning his knife in his right hand. The wicked looking implement had something akin to an ancient handgun's trigger ring on it. So, he was spinning it like a six-shooter. All crew members, Nietzschean, Human, and the like stayed far away from Tyr when he did that.
At exactly three hours and thirty minutes, Ensign DeMato sang out.
“Sir! I have multiple signatures on long range scanners!”
“Identify.” Tyr said, as he stood, swung and put up his knife with the same efficiency as an Old Earth gunslinger. Billy The Kid, Bat Masterson and Doc Holiday would've been proud.
“Starfleet vessels, Sir. The Eclipse, The U.S.S. Bonaventure, The U.S.S Ticonderoga, The U.S.S. Sun Zui, The U.S.S. Diadochi, The U.S.S. Dauntless, and The U.S.S. Orion.” Ensign DeMato called out. For once he wasn't a nervous wreck, even though he was the center of Captain Anasazi's attention. Therapy was working. . . .
The Eclipse was a Defiant Class vessel and Haxhis' personal flagship. The Bonaventure, Ticonderoga and Sun Zui were Nova Class Vessels. The Diadochi, The Dauntless and The Orion were Voyager Class vessels. More than enough firepower for a private little war.
“We've reached hailing distance, Sir.” Ensign Joanna Sachs, the helm officer called out.
“Hail the Eclipse.” Tyr ordered, he faced the main viewer in a parade rest posture. The view promptly changed from the stars to a giant cats face. Actually, Haxhis looked like a lion, a smaller more feminine version of an Earth male lion, with a smaller mane which Haxhis had neatly braided.
“Hail, Captain Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria by Barbarossa, of the Kodiak Pride!” Haxhis exclaimed.
“Hail Fleet Admiral Haxhistasa of Pride Capricorn!” Tyr exclaimed, topped off with a Nietzschean fist over the heart salute. Tthe Katay had twelve main Prides which were named after the Zodiac.
“Hail and well met, Captain. We will beam over in five minutes.” Haxhis replied, then cut the connection. Tyr snapped out orders, leaving Gilgamesh the comm, as he, Khan, and Tamarra boarded and rode down to the main transporter room.
During the ride Khan started grooming his face. To the Katay public grooming is considered rude and therefore taboo. But, Khan was nervous, and starting licking his right paw and washing his face. . . . . . .
“Khan!” Tyr hissed, at his friend. Khan froze with his tongue still poking out of his mouth.
“Ops! Sorry, Sir!” Khan apologized. He blinked and self consenciously put his right paw down. Tyr rolled his eyes and remembered whom was dealing with. A giant feline. Even though Khan was Human sized and intelligent, he still possessed the same instincts as a common Earth house cat.
“I wonder what would happen if I tossed him a ball of yarn?” Tyr wondered, as the lift stopped. They were about to debark, but Khan held Tyr back, allowing Tamarra to go ahead and hurry down the corridor alone.
“Here's where you will meet the competition.” Khan said, to Tyr.
“Competition . . . . . . . . . for what?” Tyr asked. Khan stared knowingly at his Nietzschean friend. Tyr's expression hardened.
"It had better not be Tamarra . . . ." Tyr rumbled.
“As we Katay like to say: You should've scent marked her.” Khan continued. Referring to the ancient Katay custom of claiming a mate by scent marking them. Once that was done, it was a warning for all competitors to stay away.
However, with Nietzscheans, if two or more Alphas liked the same would-be-matriarch, they would challenge one another, fight for her, and the victor would get to have her. If she wanted him. Since Nietzschean society is matriarchal it would be her choice. So, it wasn't uncommon for the intended matriarch to leave both loser and victor in the dust . . . . ., for a totally different Alpha.
“Have you at least told her you were interested?” Khan asked.
“The circumstances have not been conducive . . .” Tyr started, as they strode down the corridor.
“That's too bad. Those words would have bound her to you. Now, you will have to defend your assets.” Khan warned. Tyr frowned as every one of the tiny hairs on his neck stood on end.
Personally Tyr didn't need that kind of crap right now because he had other issues to deal with. He was looking forward to finally settling the Team Solon problem, plus, the reunion with his old instructor and friend.
Tyr inwardly sighed and resigned himself to jealously guarding Tamarra like a junk yard dog for the duration, until the so-called competition took their leave. Such was the life of a male Alpha Nietzschean. . . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
They arrived and met Lt. Commander Anol plus two of her people already in place. All stood at parade rest until the beaming process started. Then all stood at attention.
Before they even finished beaming in Tyr saw him. Whom ever he was, he stood out among Haxhis' party.
Once they coalesced, the Fleet Admiral and her staff stepped down, they greeted each other and there were introductions all around. She was very gracious to Khan, and Khan did not faint or fall to the deck, nor did he simper, fawn, or make an ass of himself.
But, before they were even introduced, the two Alphas gave each other the “stare down”. That slow calculating look two combatants give one another to assess each others strengths and weakness. Trying to decide whether "I can take him" or "He's not worth my time.".
Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome was the same height and weight as Tyr and just as muscular. Alphas were the crème de la crème of Neitzscheans and thus looked it. All Nietzscheans looked like models for weightlifting and body building holovids, but, there was something very special about Alphas. They had a little extra. They had to in order to attract the best possible mate.
“This is Charlemagne Bolivar out of Athena by Ceaser of Pride Jagaer. He is Captain of the Eclipse,” Fleet Admiral Haxhis introduced, as she pulled her whiskers back. For she recognized the rivalry right away. The electricity crackling in the atmosphere was almost visible, it was so thick.
“Oh . . . . .my. . . . . .God. . . . !” Tamarra thought, as she raised her right eyebrow and gazed coolly at Captain Bolivar.
He was dressed in the same modified version of a Starfleet Captains uniform, which showcased his superior muscle structure, and made allowances for his boneblades. This was Tamarra's first official experience dealing with an Alpha Nietzschean other than Tyr. As if dealing with Tyr was not enough! There was too much Nietzschean testosterone in the room!
“My! What have we here?” Charlemagne thought, and smiled to himself as he and Tamarra were introduced.
“Grrrrrrr!” Tyr thought. If it weren't for their present company, he would've growled and bellowed an open challenge to Bolivar for Tamarra. But now was not the place nor time. So, all Tyr could resort to was "the evil eye" as the good Captain Bolivar checked out Tammara.
“Houston. We have a problem.” Khan thought, and watched the maneuvering and posturing between the two men.
Just then, Tamarra did the unexpected. She tucked herself behind Tyr and stayed there, reminding Khan of how Katay kits hid under their mother when frightened. In essence Tamarra was proclaiming to Charlemagne that Tyr was her protector.
“Good girl.” Khan thought to himself. Charlemagne would leave her alone, for now. That was until he figured exactly what kind of relationship she and Tyr had, other than professional.
“Then Charlemagne will be back with a battering ram and Tyr will be forced to give him a beat down . . . ."
“I would like to see the prisoners.” Haxhis said, to Tyr. Interrupting Khan's train of thought.
“Right this way, Ma'am.” Tyr replied, and led the party out of the Transporter Room to the nearest lift.
The Plan - Chapter 20
NOTE TO READERS: There is no such thing as the "Intergalactic Humanitarian & Sentient Species Act".
Free Enterprise - The Plan - Chapter 20
Captain Tyr Anasazi sat at his desk, hands steepled before his face, looking very much like the one of the Ancient Vulcan Masters. That is, if they had chocolate brown skin, sported three foot long dreadlocks, and were Nietzschean.
He was quietly listening to his command staff's arguments as to what to do with their Vulcan prisoners. The Insurrection's assignment was to continue on said course to Deep Space Ten, pick up supplies and some additional personnel who were waiting there.
Even at top speed, this meant that their so called guests would have to stay on lock down for approximately two and a half weeks. That meant two and a half weeks until they were officially turned over to Starfleet authorities and dealt with. Tyr wanted them the hell of his ship now!
A dispute had arisen as to whether Team Solon should be allowed to stay in the brig ( which meant very close quarters ) or confine them to quarters in the VIP Quad. There they would have more room, more amenities, but still remain confined. According to the Inter Galactic Humanitarian and Species Act, prisoners had the right to some amenities. Within reason, of course.
Privately, Tamarra was hoping Tyr would space them.
"Aside from being against Starfleet regulations, there was enough trash and junk floating around in space." she thought. Suddenly Tyr cleared his throat, and everyone stopped their conversations.
“Thank you for your input. Now, please leave us.” He said. Everyone immediately got up and began to file out, Tammara included.
“Commander McPhearson. . . .” she froze and turned at the sound of her name. “You stay.” he continued. Tamarra glanced at Khan as she sat, and his whiskers were pulled back. That was a good sign.
“I recall receiving a daily transmission alerting me that Fleet Admiral Haxhis and her battle group will be performing maneuvers in the area.” Tyr started.
“And you're going to reach out to her to get clarity before you space Team Solon.” Khan finished.
"Phooey!" Tamarra thought.
“Affirmative.” Tyr replied.
“Pardon me for speaking, Sir, but you didn't need me to make that decision.” Tamarra started.
“I want you here as a witness. Even though Solon and his people were agent provocateurs, according to the Intergalactic Humanitarian & Sentient Species Act, they were treated with dignity and respect.” Tyr replied, as he gazed at her. The meaning was very clear, if Tyr ever was brought up on charges, at his trial, she would be a witness for his defense.
“Of course, Sir. It would be an honor, Sir.” she replied. With that assurance, Tyr made the call.
It just so happened that Haxhis was in her quarters when the communication came in from Tyr. She blinked her amber eyes at him, pulled her whiskers back in a big smile and chuffed herself silly.
“Oh my Divine! Look what the cats dragged in!” she managed to say before she chuffed again. Tyr couldn't help but smile and laugh himself. They spent a good ten minutes commiserating about the Academy days. When Tyr had his left foot on the proverbial banana peel, and the right foot out of the door.
“Now, I know you didn't call just to talk about the good old days, Captain.” she said, which put the kaibosh on the levity. Tyr spent another ten minutes explaining the situation to her.
“Tell me, what is your heading?” she asked. He told her. And she told him hers. It turned out, they were only a few hours away from each other, give or take a few course adjustments.
“Here's what you do, Captain. Maintain your original heading and we will adjust to meet you. I will see you in approximately four hours.” Fleet Admiral Haxhis said. Then signed off.
“Oh my! Oh my! She's coming here! Oh my . . . . .” Khan was suddenly all aflutter. As aflutter as a 250 pound Katay could be.
“Is he going be okay?” Tamarra asked, Tyr.
“He will recover. It's just that . . . . . . Haxhis is his idol . . .” Tyr whispered. “As long as he does not grovel. . . .” he thought.
“This is going to be very interesting!” Tamarra thought.
Free Enterprise - The Plan - Chapter 20
Captain Tyr Anasazi sat at his desk, hands steepled before his face, looking very much like the one of the Ancient Vulcan Masters. That is, if they had chocolate brown skin, sported three foot long dreadlocks, and were Nietzschean.
He was quietly listening to his command staff's arguments as to what to do with their Vulcan prisoners. The Insurrection's assignment was to continue on said course to Deep Space Ten, pick up supplies and some additional personnel who were waiting there.
Even at top speed, this meant that their so called guests would have to stay on lock down for approximately two and a half weeks. That meant two and a half weeks until they were officially turned over to Starfleet authorities and dealt with. Tyr wanted them the hell of his ship now!
A dispute had arisen as to whether Team Solon should be allowed to stay in the brig ( which meant very close quarters ) or confine them to quarters in the VIP Quad. There they would have more room, more amenities, but still remain confined. According to the Inter Galactic Humanitarian and Species Act, prisoners had the right to some amenities. Within reason, of course.
Privately, Tamarra was hoping Tyr would space them.
"Aside from being against Starfleet regulations, there was enough trash and junk floating around in space." she thought. Suddenly Tyr cleared his throat, and everyone stopped their conversations.
“Thank you for your input. Now, please leave us.” He said. Everyone immediately got up and began to file out, Tammara included.
“Commander McPhearson. . . .” she froze and turned at the sound of her name. “You stay.” he continued. Tamarra glanced at Khan as she sat, and his whiskers were pulled back. That was a good sign.
“I recall receiving a daily transmission alerting me that Fleet Admiral Haxhis and her battle group will be performing maneuvers in the area.” Tyr started.
“And you're going to reach out to her to get clarity before you space Team Solon.” Khan finished.
"Phooey!" Tamarra thought.
“Affirmative.” Tyr replied.
“Pardon me for speaking, Sir, but you didn't need me to make that decision.” Tamarra started.
“I want you here as a witness. Even though Solon and his people were agent provocateurs, according to the Intergalactic Humanitarian & Sentient Species Act, they were treated with dignity and respect.” Tyr replied, as he gazed at her. The meaning was very clear, if Tyr ever was brought up on charges, at his trial, she would be a witness for his defense.
“Of course, Sir. It would be an honor, Sir.” she replied. With that assurance, Tyr made the call.
It just so happened that Haxhis was in her quarters when the communication came in from Tyr. She blinked her amber eyes at him, pulled her whiskers back in a big smile and chuffed herself silly.
“Oh my Divine! Look what the cats dragged in!” she managed to say before she chuffed again. Tyr couldn't help but smile and laugh himself. They spent a good ten minutes commiserating about the Academy days. When Tyr had his left foot on the proverbial banana peel, and the right foot out of the door.
“Now, I know you didn't call just to talk about the good old days, Captain.” she said, which put the kaibosh on the levity. Tyr spent another ten minutes explaining the situation to her.
“Tell me, what is your heading?” she asked. He told her. And she told him hers. It turned out, they were only a few hours away from each other, give or take a few course adjustments.
“Here's what you do, Captain. Maintain your original heading and we will adjust to meet you. I will see you in approximately four hours.” Fleet Admiral Haxhis said. Then signed off.
“Oh my! Oh my! She's coming here! Oh my . . . . .” Khan was suddenly all aflutter. As aflutter as a 250 pound Katay could be.
“Is he going be okay?” Tamarra asked, Tyr.
“He will recover. It's just that . . . . . . Haxhis is his idol . . .” Tyr whispered. “As long as he does not grovel. . . .” he thought.
“This is going to be very interesting!” Tamarra thought.
Fire Works - Chapter 19
NOTE TO READERS: The word or term "TanGol" is something I made up. I needed something for Tamarra to toss into Solon's face at the time, and that was it. Now, I officially disavow any knowledge of the word. . . . . . .
Free Enterprise - Fire Works! – Chapter 19
Meanwhile Captain Tyr Anasazi was in the process of “putting out fire with fire”. Khan stood off to the side with his arms crossed and watched as the Captain had Engineering's Beta Shift line up in ranks and file, and face him.
From there he proceeded to read them the riot act. The poor Humans were terrified and the Nietzscheans were quietly respectful. They had a right to be because Engineering had been the “hotbed” of all of the problems and fights.
“Have I made myself perfectly clear?” Tyr asked authoritatively, after his upbraid.
“Sir! Yes, Sir!” thirty voices called out in unison.
“Resume your duties.” he ordered. The group, both Human and Nietzschean alike, scatter like their tails had been scalded. Tyr put his head down to hide a smile, as Khan chuffed softly.
“Now, now, Captain. You must remember that you were like that once.” Khan said.
“I was worse.” Tyr replied. As they left Engineering proper. They choose to ignore the eyes peering down on them from the Engineering catwalks. Mice peeping out at the cat as it saunters by.
“I was a rebel, and was always in trouble.” Tyr said, as they entered the lift and headed back to the bridge.
“You?” Khan asked, in mock disbelief.
“Starfleet would've thrown me out except for one Katay woman. I believe you know her as Haxhis.” Tyr replied.
“You know Fleet Admiral Haxhis?” Khan said, truly awed. "She is renowned among our people. She was Princess and the direct heir to the throne, but she put aside her crown to join Starfleet."
“She was my Strategic Studies instructor and personally took me under her wing.” Tyr continued as they both entered his Ready Room. He sat at his desk and Khan sat on the sofa.
As soon as they were seated and sort of comfortable, Khan huffed. Tyr smiled knowing why. The next second, the door chime rang.
“Come.” Tyr called, as he sat back in his chair. To an outsider, it looked like he was carelessly sprawled in his chair, but he was far from it.
“Afternoon Captain, Khan. Sir, the Vulcans are complaining.” she said. Tyr raised an eyebrow at the statement. Tamarra had said “the Vulcans” as if she were no longer part of their race. Khan's ears and whiskers pricked up.
“What would the noisome pestilence be complaining about now?” Tyr asked. “They are housed, fed, clothed, have a place to sleep, and even entertainment if they wish. What more could they want?” he continued.
“Huuuuummmmm! I'm guessing their freedom.” Khan replied.
Tamarra put a hand to her face to hide a smile. Ever since Solon and his people had been placed in the brig yesterday evening, they had been complaining constantly, and making a general pain in the neck of themselves. Of course, both Tyr and Khan had a right to have some fun at their expense.
“I thought Vulcans are supposed to be a stoic and logical people.” Tyr said, frowning at her.
“I thought so too, but.. . . .” Tamarra started, shrugged, then sighed. “They've been complaining that we are preventing them from continuing their studies.” she continued.
“Yes, we ARE preventing them from continuing seditious activities on my ship.” Tyr replied, as he held up a data disk. “Xena extracted a complete confession from Solon this morning. He and his team were attempting to cause my crew to mutiny, then lay the blame of the whole incident upon our backs.” Tyr stated. “Then there would be just cause, and a solid rallying point to have the Nietzscheans removed and banned from the Federation and Starfleet.” he continued.
“OMG! OMG! OMG! I had no idea!” Tamarra gasped, as the full meaning of her Captain's statement hit her.
“And Solon had the unmitigated gall to use me in his sick and twisted plot! From this moment forward, I want nothing to do with him!” she stated, then stood and stormed out leaving Tyr and Khan to stare the closed door after she'd left. Tyr tapped his comm badge.
“Lt Commander Anol.” he said.
“Yes, Sir.” Xena replied.
“Location please.” he asked.
“The Brig. The natives are restless, Sir.” she replied, over the background noise of two male voices arguing, stridently.
“Commander McPhearson is on her way to your local, and she is very displeased, to say the least.” Tyr stated.
“I'll look out for her.” Xena promised.
“I've alerted Sabra. Perhaps she will be able to talk to Tamarra.” Khan said. His mate was also a counselor, handy for those who preferred a feminine presence when they poured their hearts out.
“These are very trying times for her, and they will get worse.” Khan continued. Tyr stared at Khan, as the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
“She will need you, too. So don't make any plans to take long pilgrimages, or safaris.” Khan warned, lightly. But Tyr knew that warning held the weight of the universe behind it.
* * * * * *
The Brig was a madhouse! Tamarra walked in on a three way argument between Solon, his second in command, Skett, and Ensign Janjit Singh.
Janjit was studying to be a JAG, and took Security as part of his career path. As a result, he was The Insurrection's foremost expert on Federation and Starfleet law. They were arguing the finer points of Eminent Domain when Tamarra walked in. She took one look at Solon and rolled her eyes.
“Get it over with, Girlfriend!” she told herself as she stepped up to the barrier and Janjit let her pass.
“Solon, I would speak to you.” she declared. Her Uncle inclined his head respectfully and faced her.
“I am enacting the law of TanGol.” she said. The rest of Solon's team stopped what they were doing, several games of 3D Chess, and looked up.
“TanGol! That law is obscure and has not been used in centuries! What could you possibly hope to accomplish by enacting it?” Solon asked arrogantly.
“The law simply states, if there is just cause I can disown a relative. I, Tamarra McPhearson officially disown you as my Uncle. According to strictures of TanGol I am to say, I disown you Uncle Solon, I disown you, Uncle Solon, I disown you, Uncle Solon. You will receive a legal packet from my lawyer in a couple of weeks. Have a nice life.” Tamarra said. Then turned on her heel and walked away. She met Sabra on the way out.
After everything had settled down and everyone had left, two people were left staring at one another. Xena was leaning against the Security console with her arms crossed, and bone blades predominately displayed of course, and stared at The Vulcan. Solon stood an inch away from the Security barrier in parade rest stance and glowered right back at her.
“You're despicable!” Xena exclaimed, suddenly. Then turned back to her duties.
Free Enterprise - Fire Works! – Chapter 19
Meanwhile Captain Tyr Anasazi was in the process of “putting out fire with fire”. Khan stood off to the side with his arms crossed and watched as the Captain had Engineering's Beta Shift line up in ranks and file, and face him.
From there he proceeded to read them the riot act. The poor Humans were terrified and the Nietzscheans were quietly respectful. They had a right to be because Engineering had been the “hotbed” of all of the problems and fights.
“Have I made myself perfectly clear?” Tyr asked authoritatively, after his upbraid.
“Sir! Yes, Sir!” thirty voices called out in unison.
“Resume your duties.” he ordered. The group, both Human and Nietzschean alike, scatter like their tails had been scalded. Tyr put his head down to hide a smile, as Khan chuffed softly.
“Now, now, Captain. You must remember that you were like that once.” Khan said.
“I was worse.” Tyr replied. As they left Engineering proper. They choose to ignore the eyes peering down on them from the Engineering catwalks. Mice peeping out at the cat as it saunters by.
“I was a rebel, and was always in trouble.” Tyr said, as they entered the lift and headed back to the bridge.
“You?” Khan asked, in mock disbelief.
“Starfleet would've thrown me out except for one Katay woman. I believe you know her as Haxhis.” Tyr replied.
“You know Fleet Admiral Haxhis?” Khan said, truly awed. "She is renowned among our people. She was Princess and the direct heir to the throne, but she put aside her crown to join Starfleet."
“She was my Strategic Studies instructor and personally took me under her wing.” Tyr continued as they both entered his Ready Room. He sat at his desk and Khan sat on the sofa.
As soon as they were seated and sort of comfortable, Khan huffed. Tyr smiled knowing why. The next second, the door chime rang.
“Come.” Tyr called, as he sat back in his chair. To an outsider, it looked like he was carelessly sprawled in his chair, but he was far from it.
“Afternoon Captain, Khan. Sir, the Vulcans are complaining.” she said. Tyr raised an eyebrow at the statement. Tamarra had said “the Vulcans” as if she were no longer part of their race. Khan's ears and whiskers pricked up.
“What would the noisome pestilence be complaining about now?” Tyr asked. “They are housed, fed, clothed, have a place to sleep, and even entertainment if they wish. What more could they want?” he continued.
“Huuuuummmmm! I'm guessing their freedom.” Khan replied.
Tamarra put a hand to her face to hide a smile. Ever since Solon and his people had been placed in the brig yesterday evening, they had been complaining constantly, and making a general pain in the neck of themselves. Of course, both Tyr and Khan had a right to have some fun at their expense.
“I thought Vulcans are supposed to be a stoic and logical people.” Tyr said, frowning at her.
“I thought so too, but.. . . .” Tamarra started, shrugged, then sighed. “They've been complaining that we are preventing them from continuing their studies.” she continued.
“Yes, we ARE preventing them from continuing seditious activities on my ship.” Tyr replied, as he held up a data disk. “Xena extracted a complete confession from Solon this morning. He and his team were attempting to cause my crew to mutiny, then lay the blame of the whole incident upon our backs.” Tyr stated. “Then there would be just cause, and a solid rallying point to have the Nietzscheans removed and banned from the Federation and Starfleet.” he continued.
“OMG! OMG! OMG! I had no idea!” Tamarra gasped, as the full meaning of her Captain's statement hit her.
“And Solon had the unmitigated gall to use me in his sick and twisted plot! From this moment forward, I want nothing to do with him!” she stated, then stood and stormed out leaving Tyr and Khan to stare the closed door after she'd left. Tyr tapped his comm badge.
“Lt Commander Anol.” he said.
“Yes, Sir.” Xena replied.
“Location please.” he asked.
“The Brig. The natives are restless, Sir.” she replied, over the background noise of two male voices arguing, stridently.
“Commander McPhearson is on her way to your local, and she is very displeased, to say the least.” Tyr stated.
“I'll look out for her.” Xena promised.
“I've alerted Sabra. Perhaps she will be able to talk to Tamarra.” Khan said. His mate was also a counselor, handy for those who preferred a feminine presence when they poured their hearts out.
“These are very trying times for her, and they will get worse.” Khan continued. Tyr stared at Khan, as the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
“She will need you, too. So don't make any plans to take long pilgrimages, or safaris.” Khan warned, lightly. But Tyr knew that warning held the weight of the universe behind it.
* * * * * *
The Brig was a madhouse! Tamarra walked in on a three way argument between Solon, his second in command, Skett, and Ensign Janjit Singh.
Janjit was studying to be a JAG, and took Security as part of his career path. As a result, he was The Insurrection's foremost expert on Federation and Starfleet law. They were arguing the finer points of Eminent Domain when Tamarra walked in. She took one look at Solon and rolled her eyes.
“Get it over with, Girlfriend!” she told herself as she stepped up to the barrier and Janjit let her pass.
“Solon, I would speak to you.” she declared. Her Uncle inclined his head respectfully and faced her.
“I am enacting the law of TanGol.” she said. The rest of Solon's team stopped what they were doing, several games of 3D Chess, and looked up.
“TanGol! That law is obscure and has not been used in centuries! What could you possibly hope to accomplish by enacting it?” Solon asked arrogantly.
“The law simply states, if there is just cause I can disown a relative. I, Tamarra McPhearson officially disown you as my Uncle. According to strictures of TanGol I am to say, I disown you Uncle Solon, I disown you, Uncle Solon, I disown you, Uncle Solon. You will receive a legal packet from my lawyer in a couple of weeks. Have a nice life.” Tamarra said. Then turned on her heel and walked away. She met Sabra on the way out.
After everything had settled down and everyone had left, two people were left staring at one another. Xena was leaning against the Security console with her arms crossed, and bone blades predominately displayed of course, and stared at The Vulcan. Solon stood an inch away from the Security barrier in parade rest stance and glowered right back at her.
“You're despicable!” Xena exclaimed, suddenly. Then turned back to her duties.
Bearding The Lion - Chapter 18
Free Enterprise - Bearding The Lion - Chapter 18
Commander Tamarra McPhearson, Lt. Commander Xena Anol and her security team of ten took the lift down together and debarked. They were met by fifteen more once there.
“Ma'am? May I have a brief and private word with you?” the Lt. Commander asked, as she pulled Tamarra to the side.
“Yes.” Tamarra replied, and sighed mentally.
“Have you noticed that Solon's party is all male?” Xena asked, as her intense blue eyes stared into her superior's
“Yes?” Tamarra asked, privately wondering where this conversation was going.
“Ma'am, in my humble opinion, I think Solon brought those men here for you to chose one. That's only my humble opinion though.” Xena replied. “I have taken the liberty of checking all of their backgrounds and they are all, what do you Vulcans call it? Unbonded. . . . . . .” she continued. Tamarra sighed and swore in Spanish.
“My sentiments exactly.” Xena replied. Apparently she either understood Spanish, or just the swear words.
“My orders have changed. Find every one of Solon's team and confine them to the brig. I will deal with Solon.” Tamarra said. Xena snapped off orders, and her people went to work quickly and efficiently. Tamarra apprised Tyr of the situation, cut the channel and continued to enter the quad. She was stopped by Xena's voice.
“Ma'am, you'll need backup.” she said, authoritatively.
“Very well, Lt Commander. Choose two.” Tamarra replied. She watched as the Nietzschean Chief of Security, selected two of her best people with subtle head signals then continued to her destination with them following.
* * * * * *
She found Solon sitting at his desk and reading his computer screen. He didn't even raise his head to register their presence.
“Solon. I wish to speak to you.” Tamarra stated, coldly in a business-like manner.
“Is this to be an interrogation?” Solon asked, indicating Xena and her two officers.
“No it is not.” Tamarra replied. “But, you're gonna wish it was when I get finished with you.” she thought, as she gave Xena the head signal to step outside. Xena gave her one of those looks which said “Are you sure that's wise?” Tamarra nodded yes, and all three officers left.
“Solon. What are you doing?” Tamarra demanded, once they were alone.
“I am studying the schematics of. . . . .” Solon started. Tamarra didn't know if he was attempting to insert humor into a possibly volatile situation, but she was not in the mood. . . . .
“What is your real purpose for being on this ship?” she asked.
“I believe I have stated our purpose several times in the past. Honestly, I do not comprehend your predilection for having things repeated. It must be your close affiliation with. . . .” Solon started.
“Why are you here, Solon?” she asked, putting a stop to her Uncle's tangent.
“We are performing a sociological study of how the Nietzscheans interact with other species, in a close living and working environment.” he stated simply.
“Where are the women, Solon?” Tamarra asked.
“The women?” Solon asked. Sounding like he'd also been afflicted with the same disorder he'd accused his niece of.
“Yes the women. I researched and discovered that there are seven Vulcan female experts in Xeno-sociology/psychcology. Seven! In fact, they are even more qualified than the current team you have! So why are THEY not here?” Tamarra queried.
“It took you long enough to notice. . . . .” Solon started.
“Huh?” Tamarra thought, as she raised her right eyebrow.
“Tamarra, it is close to your time and I have been informed that you have not made the proper arrangements. I do not believe you want a repeat performance of what happened the last time.” Solon said.
Tamarra did a slow burn. What Solon was referring to was her last Pon Farr, which turned out to be a personal horror show and disaster. To this day she believed she had been set up. But, she didn't possess the means to investigate and adjudicate the incidents.
“Solon, I do not wish to discuss the matter.” she replied, coldly.
“I am only concerned for your welfare.” Solon said.
“Yes, by bringing me a group men to chose from like they are a sting of horses. No thank you, Solon!” was her cold response.
“I was attempting to present as many options as possible. . . . but with that creature always following and hovering over you. . . .” he continued.
“Creature? What creature? Oh. . . . . . ” Tamarra thought.
“Oh you mean Khan. Khan is the ship's. . .” she started.
“I am not speaking about Khan.” Solon stated, firmly. Tamarra's mouth sagged open with disbelief.
“OMG! Solon! How could you? He is human!” She shouted.
“He is not Human! Tyr Anasazi and his ilk are biologically engineered anathemas which do not deserve to live another second!” Solon replied, with a sneer.
“The Nietzscheans are peaceful beings, who comprise 15% of the Federation's population. What in heaven's name do you propose to do? Exterminate them all? They have a right to live, just as much as we do!” Tamarra shot back.
“I see that your close affiliation with them has severely clouded your judgment. You have become emotional, irrational and illogical.” Solon said, as he stood.
“Spare me, Solon! There are Federation and Starfleet regulations against what you want to do! By the way, what's the name of your so-called organization so that I am forewarned.” she asked.
“Vulcans Against Nietzscheans.” Solon replied, with just a tinge of pride. After all, he was it's founder and fearless leader.
“How quaint. Am I to assume all members of your so-called team are members of said abomination?” Tamarra asked.
“Yes they are. And we are doing the Federation and Starfleet a service.” Solon proclaimed, self righteously.
“And to think he wanted me to become bonded to one of them! Yick!.” Tamarra thought, as she suppressed a shudder
“Solon I cannot allow you to continue your seditious activities. . . .” she said, as she drew and pointed her phaser at Solon. In less than a heartbeat she found herself staring at a phaser pointed back at her. Solon obviously had secreted the weapon somewhere on or in his desk.
"Crap! How'd that happen? I should have remembered to inspect all the luggage Team Solon brought with them." she thought.
For the next minute there was an old fashioned Texas standoff. Solon against Tamarra. Tamarra against Solon.
Then three things happened at once. The door to Solon's office flew open, Tamarra was unceremoniously knocked flat on her butt, and Solon was phasered into heavy stun heaven. All done by Lt. Commander Xena Anol!
“Ma'am, forgive me for being so rough, but your safety was tantamount.” Xena said, as she helped Tamarra up. Standing the grown Vulcan woman up on her feet, as easily as a mother would stand a two year old on it's feet.
“Thank you, Xena.” Tamarra said.
“No problem. Just doing my job.” Xena said, as she flashed a brilliant smile. And a new friendship was born.
Commander Tamarra McPhearson, Lt. Commander Xena Anol and her security team of ten took the lift down together and debarked. They were met by fifteen more once there.
“Ma'am? May I have a brief and private word with you?” the Lt. Commander asked, as she pulled Tamarra to the side.
“Yes.” Tamarra replied, and sighed mentally.
“Have you noticed that Solon's party is all male?” Xena asked, as her intense blue eyes stared into her superior's
“Yes?” Tamarra asked, privately wondering where this conversation was going.
“Ma'am, in my humble opinion, I think Solon brought those men here for you to chose one. That's only my humble opinion though.” Xena replied. “I have taken the liberty of checking all of their backgrounds and they are all, what do you Vulcans call it? Unbonded. . . . . . .” she continued. Tamarra sighed and swore in Spanish.
“My sentiments exactly.” Xena replied. Apparently she either understood Spanish, or just the swear words.
“My orders have changed. Find every one of Solon's team and confine them to the brig. I will deal with Solon.” Tamarra said. Xena snapped off orders, and her people went to work quickly and efficiently. Tamarra apprised Tyr of the situation, cut the channel and continued to enter the quad. She was stopped by Xena's voice.
“Ma'am, you'll need backup.” she said, authoritatively.
“Very well, Lt Commander. Choose two.” Tamarra replied. She watched as the Nietzschean Chief of Security, selected two of her best people with subtle head signals then continued to her destination with them following.
* * * * * *
She found Solon sitting at his desk and reading his computer screen. He didn't even raise his head to register their presence.
“Solon. I wish to speak to you.” Tamarra stated, coldly in a business-like manner.
“Is this to be an interrogation?” Solon asked, indicating Xena and her two officers.
“No it is not.” Tamarra replied. “But, you're gonna wish it was when I get finished with you.” she thought, as she gave Xena the head signal to step outside. Xena gave her one of those looks which said “Are you sure that's wise?” Tamarra nodded yes, and all three officers left.
“Solon. What are you doing?” Tamarra demanded, once they were alone.
“I am studying the schematics of. . . . .” Solon started. Tamarra didn't know if he was attempting to insert humor into a possibly volatile situation, but she was not in the mood. . . . .
“What is your real purpose for being on this ship?” she asked.
“I believe I have stated our purpose several times in the past. Honestly, I do not comprehend your predilection for having things repeated. It must be your close affiliation with. . . .” Solon started.
“Why are you here, Solon?” she asked, putting a stop to her Uncle's tangent.
“We are performing a sociological study of how the Nietzscheans interact with other species, in a close living and working environment.” he stated simply.
“Where are the women, Solon?” Tamarra asked.
“The women?” Solon asked. Sounding like he'd also been afflicted with the same disorder he'd accused his niece of.
“Yes the women. I researched and discovered that there are seven Vulcan female experts in Xeno-sociology/psychcology. Seven! In fact, they are even more qualified than the current team you have! So why are THEY not here?” Tamarra queried.
“It took you long enough to notice. . . . .” Solon started.
“Huh?” Tamarra thought, as she raised her right eyebrow.
“Tamarra, it is close to your time and I have been informed that you have not made the proper arrangements. I do not believe you want a repeat performance of what happened the last time.” Solon said.
Tamarra did a slow burn. What Solon was referring to was her last Pon Farr, which turned out to be a personal horror show and disaster. To this day she believed she had been set up. But, she didn't possess the means to investigate and adjudicate the incidents.
“Solon, I do not wish to discuss the matter.” she replied, coldly.
“I am only concerned for your welfare.” Solon said.
“Yes, by bringing me a group men to chose from like they are a sting of horses. No thank you, Solon!” was her cold response.
“I was attempting to present as many options as possible. . . . but with that creature always following and hovering over you. . . .” he continued.
“Creature? What creature? Oh. . . . . . ” Tamarra thought.
“Oh you mean Khan. Khan is the ship's. . .” she started.
“I am not speaking about Khan.” Solon stated, firmly. Tamarra's mouth sagged open with disbelief.
“OMG! Solon! How could you? He is human!” She shouted.
“He is not Human! Tyr Anasazi and his ilk are biologically engineered anathemas which do not deserve to live another second!” Solon replied, with a sneer.
“The Nietzscheans are peaceful beings, who comprise 15% of the Federation's population. What in heaven's name do you propose to do? Exterminate them all? They have a right to live, just as much as we do!” Tamarra shot back.
“I see that your close affiliation with them has severely clouded your judgment. You have become emotional, irrational and illogical.” Solon said, as he stood.
“Spare me, Solon! There are Federation and Starfleet regulations against what you want to do! By the way, what's the name of your so-called organization so that I am forewarned.” she asked.
“Vulcans Against Nietzscheans.” Solon replied, with just a tinge of pride. After all, he was it's founder and fearless leader.
“How quaint. Am I to assume all members of your so-called team are members of said abomination?” Tamarra asked.
“Yes they are. And we are doing the Federation and Starfleet a service.” Solon proclaimed, self righteously.
“And to think he wanted me to become bonded to one of them! Yick!.” Tamarra thought, as she suppressed a shudder
“Solon I cannot allow you to continue your seditious activities. . . .” she said, as she drew and pointed her phaser at Solon. In less than a heartbeat she found herself staring at a phaser pointed back at her. Solon obviously had secreted the weapon somewhere on or in his desk.
"Crap! How'd that happen? I should have remembered to inspect all the luggage Team Solon brought with them." she thought.
For the next minute there was an old fashioned Texas standoff. Solon against Tamarra. Tamarra against Solon.
Then three things happened at once. The door to Solon's office flew open, Tamarra was unceremoniously knocked flat on her butt, and Solon was phasered into heavy stun heaven. All done by Lt. Commander Xena Anol!
“Ma'am, forgive me for being so rough, but your safety was tantamount.” Xena said, as she helped Tamarra up. Standing the grown Vulcan woman up on her feet, as easily as a mother would stand a two year old on it's feet.
“Thank you, Xena.” Tamarra said.
“No problem. Just doing my job.” Xena said, as she flashed a brilliant smile. And a new friendship was born.
Meditation Is Good - Chapter 17
THREE DAYS LATER . . . . . .
“Very superstitious,
Writing's on the wall,
Very superstitious,
Ladders bout' to fall,
Thirteen month old baby,
Broke the lookin' glass
Seven years of bad luck,
The good things in your past . . . . . . . .
Stevie Wonder's song played very softly in the background as Tamarra meditated. Unlike the vast majority of her race, she believed that music helped her to meditate. This was the first time since Team Solon arrived she was able to have quality quiet time.
The first item she focused her mind on was the fact that the demographics of Team Solon did not look right to her.
“Why does this team look strange?” she asked, herself mentally, as she backtracked and focused on each face.
Then she had it. Every one of Solon's team was male! If this was supposed to be a big scientific study, where were the female experts in sociology and xeno-psychology? If she was not mistaken, there were many renowned Vulcan women in both fields, yet not even one of them were here!
“Computer, stop music.” she called, as she stood and tapped her comm badge.
“Captain, we may have a serious problem.” Tamarra said.
“Let me guess. Our guests again?” Tyr's irritated voice asked.
For some strange reason frequent fights and vehement verbal disagreements had broken out among the crew. Bickering and controversy was to be expected on any ship, and with any crew. No matter how disciplined the crew, the opposite opinion could set off fireworks at any time.
However among The Insurrection's crew there had always been a Pride and Family atmosphere. During the past 72 hours, it seemed to have completely broken down. Fistfights and donnybrooks broke out everywhere, filling up Sickbay with patients, and leaving Captain Anasazi at his wits end.
“Yes, it has to do with our guests.” Tamarra replied. She wanted desperately to say the word “pests”, instead of "guests" but she restrained herself. “I believe I need to have another talk with Solon.” she continued.
“Never enter enemy territory without covering your six. Take Xena and some of her people with you, just in case.” Tyr's voice, warned. Concern evident in his voice.
“Were you quoting Drago, Sir?” Tamarra asked. Inspired by the mention of "Ancestor's Breath" she had been studying some of it's texts. However she had not read the particular passage Tyr had quoted. She was also trying to lighten the mood a bit.
“No, Commander. Just Nietzschean Common Sense. Captain out.” Tyr replied. His mood had lightened, just a bit.
Tamarra sighed and put in a call to Lt Commander Anol. Then she prepared herself to visit Solon.
“Very superstitious,
Writing's on the wall,
Very superstitious,
Ladders bout' to fall,
Thirteen month old baby,
Broke the lookin' glass
Seven years of bad luck,
The good things in your past . . . . . . . .
Stevie Wonder's song played very softly in the background as Tamarra meditated. Unlike the vast majority of her race, she believed that music helped her to meditate. This was the first time since Team Solon arrived she was able to have quality quiet time.
The first item she focused her mind on was the fact that the demographics of Team Solon did not look right to her.
“Why does this team look strange?” she asked, herself mentally, as she backtracked and focused on each face.
Then she had it. Every one of Solon's team was male! If this was supposed to be a big scientific study, where were the female experts in sociology and xeno-psychology? If she was not mistaken, there were many renowned Vulcan women in both fields, yet not even one of them were here!
“Computer, stop music.” she called, as she stood and tapped her comm badge.
“Captain, we may have a serious problem.” Tamarra said.
“Let me guess. Our guests again?” Tyr's irritated voice asked.
For some strange reason frequent fights and vehement verbal disagreements had broken out among the crew. Bickering and controversy was to be expected on any ship, and with any crew. No matter how disciplined the crew, the opposite opinion could set off fireworks at any time.
However among The Insurrection's crew there had always been a Pride and Family atmosphere. During the past 72 hours, it seemed to have completely broken down. Fistfights and donnybrooks broke out everywhere, filling up Sickbay with patients, and leaving Captain Anasazi at his wits end.
“Yes, it has to do with our guests.” Tamarra replied. She wanted desperately to say the word “pests”, instead of "guests" but she restrained herself. “I believe I need to have another talk with Solon.” she continued.
“Never enter enemy territory without covering your six. Take Xena and some of her people with you, just in case.” Tyr's voice, warned. Concern evident in his voice.
“Were you quoting Drago, Sir?” Tamarra asked. Inspired by the mention of "Ancestor's Breath" she had been studying some of it's texts. However she had not read the particular passage Tyr had quoted. She was also trying to lighten the mood a bit.
“No, Commander. Just Nietzschean Common Sense. Captain out.” Tyr replied. His mood had lightened, just a bit.
Tamarra sighed and put in a call to Lt Commander Anol. Then she prepared herself to visit Solon.
Very Superstitious - Chapter 16
Free Enterprise - Very Superstitious - Chapter 16
“I do not trust Solon, Sir.” Tamarra said.
She was sitting in front of Captain Anasazi's desk. He was sitting back in his chair with his chin propped on his right fist. Of course he was staring intently at her.
“The way a cat watches a rodent.” she thought, and fought the urge to squirm.
“Solon is your Uncle. . . .” Khan started.
“I don't care if he is the President of the Federation. I still do not trust him any further than I can throw him.” Tamarra insisted. Tyr leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and muttered something under his breath, catching both Khan and Tamarra off guard.
“What was that, Sir?” she asked, and frowned. She could've sworn she heard him say something in Spanish. Her adopted parents had taught her Spanish. After all the family ranch and farm was on the Texas/Mexico border and they had Mexican Indios as ranch hands.
Before their discovery, Nietzscheans basically spoke one language and a few scattered dialects. But, when they joined the Federation and Starfleet, their close affiliation with other races gave them to opportunity to learn other languages. Tyr was multi-lingual, and was especially partial to the Human “romance languages”.
“Drago dijo tantas veces a los enemigos peores vienen del corazón de uno de orgullo." he repeated in Spanish. “Drago oft said, one's worst enemies come from the heart of one's own Pride.” Tyr translated, as he gazed directly at Tamarra.
Transaltion: One's own family could be your worst enemies!
“Now that we've identified the enemy, what are we going to do?” Khan asked no one in particular. Tyr tapped the comm badge on his chest.
“Captain Anasazi to Lt. Commander Anol.” he said.
“Anol here, Sir!” was the prompt feminine reply. Lt Commander Xena Anol was The Insurrection's Nietzschean Chief of Security.
“I need a security detail to discretely watch our guests.” Tyr ordered.
“Forgive me, Sir. Watch as in protect?” she asked.
Xena had to ask, because if it was for protection, whom were they protecting the Vulcans from? Themselves? Us?
“Or do you want us to watch for probable cause? If that is the case, you may also need us to perform apprehensions. Since they are considered dignitaries, are there any specifics you want me to abide by, Sir?” Xena continued. The savoy Security Chief was leaving nothing to chance. Dealing with guests of this nature was a tremendous pain in the neck.
“The instant you see or suspect anything untoward, throw their backsides into the brig! If they scream diplomatic immunity, tell them there is no diplomatic immunity ON MY SHIP!” Tyr ordered. He was leaving nothing to chance, either.
“Aye, Sir. I'm on it!” Xena replied, then she yelled for one of her subordinates before the connection was cut. After which, Tyr had himself a good laugh.
“Oh-oh!” Khan thought. “He's having waaaay too much fun!”
“Holy crap! Look what I've started.” Tamarra thought. It was good to see the Captain laugh for a change, but this laughter had a maniacal tone to it.
"Or is it just me suspecting this?" she wondered.
“Might I remind you, Sir, that we have dinner with our guests in approximately four hours.” Khan said.
“Well, my appetite just went right out the airlock, but I will be there.” Tamarra said, as she stood. Tyr grunted his agreement, for he detested those functions, also.
“Class A's, Sir?” Khan asked.
“No. Traditional.” Tyr replied.
Standard operating procedure was that the Captain and command staff dressed in their Starfleet dress uniforms ( Class A's ) to formally receive and welcome dignitaries and diplomatic personages. However, it was up to the individual Captain to make the ultimate choice of what his command staff should wear.
In Tyr's case, "traditional" meant that he was definitely wearing something Nietzschean.
“And if it is anything like the outfit that he wore to dinner a few nights ago, Team Solon is in big trouble!” Tamarra thought.
* * * * * * * *
Four hours later, the command staff of The Insurrection and the Vulcans were waiting. They were waiting because Captain Anasazi and Yeoman-Counselor Khan were late.
Tamarra hung her head to hide a smile, because she knew exactly what Tyr was up to. The man rarely did things without making some kind of nonverbal statement. He was going to be late because he wanted to make a grand entrance.
All conversations stopped as the doors opened and in strode Captain Anasazi with Khan at his heels. Tamarra forced herself not to stare. He was dressed in black boots, black leather pants, a CHAIN MAIL singlet, a deck length sleeveless cape, his gauntlets were bejeweled, and his bone blades were individually encased in matching bejeweled sheaths, plus he was armed.
Tyr was definitely dressed to impress. However, instead of the "come hither" look he had projected to her during dinner, Tyr was now sporting the "Bring it on!" look! If anything, he looked prepared to start his own personal Armageddon.
"He still looks sexy as hell, though!" Tamarra thought, as Kori gave her a discrete poke, reminding her to breathe. Team Solon froze in various stages of action as they stared with their own special brand of Vulcan intensity.
Tyr commandeered a corner and his staff surrounded him, causing a division in the room. Team Solon stood on one side and Team Insurrection stood on the other. Gynn, the head steward slipped in and spoke to the Captain.
“Would you like anything special from the kitchen, Sir?” she asked.
The event was being served buffet style, but, rank had it's privileges. The Captain could place an order and it would be processed for him in minutes. Nietzscheans detested replicated food so Gynn probably had a salad or some similar healthy item stashed away just for Tyr.
“No thank you, Gynn. I will not be eating tonight.” Tyr replied, as he sipped a glass of fruit juice. Kori stared at him.
“Captain, this is a diplomatic event. You are supposed to eat at diplomatic events as a show of good faith.” The Klingon CMO, insisted.
“According to Drago Musuveni, there are three things you do not do in the presence of enemies. Eat, sleep, or turn your back.” Tyr quoted, word for word from “Ancestor's Breath”. A life directing tome written by Drago, who was the "First Nietzschean", and adopted by all Nietzscheans as their Bible.
Even though Nietzscheans have been generically engineered with the ability to ingest most poisons without suffering side effects or death, they do not like to tempt fate, or The Divine.
“ . . . . .So, I do not break bread with the enemy.” Tyr continued, indicating the Vulcan party across the room.
So, for the rest of the evening, they stood around and talked. Tamarra was pleasantly surprised to find that both Tyr and Khan stayed at her elbow. Because, whenever she looked up, she received hard, disapproving glares from Team Solon. Their “esteemed” leader seemed to be especially incised.
“Oh hell! What terrible thing have I done now?” she thought, as Tyr skillfully maneuvered her so that her back was to them briefly.
“I am leaving, before I spew.” Tyr stated, simply. Tamarra forced down the urge to laugh out loud. The man certainly had a way with words.
For emphasis, Tyr drained then crushed his glass in his right hand. He slammed the remnants to the deck, and stalked out, taking his staff with him.
* * * * * *
“He's such a Drama King!” Tamarra thought, as they all entered the lift together.
“Captain, you need to stop by Sickbay and let me clean that glass out of your hand.” Kori said.
Kori was well aware that Nietzscheans were capable of healing a lot faster than their Human cousins. The trick was to get the glass out of his hand quickly, so the epidermis would not heal up over it. . . . . .
“That went well. What do you have planed as an encore?” Khan asked.
“I'd like to fire a couple hot ones into their nacelles.” Tyr rumbled.
“But, they don't have a ship.” Tamarra stated. Privately horrified that she was thinking along the same lines. There was something about Team Solon that was unsettling. She just couldn't put her finger on it yet.
“Find an abandoned garbage scow, beam them onto it, and I'll take it from there.” Tyr replied, confidently, as he debarked the lift in the company of Kori.
“I'm sure you would.” Tamarra thought, and smiled, as the lift doors closed.
“I do not trust Solon, Sir.” Tamarra said.
She was sitting in front of Captain Anasazi's desk. He was sitting back in his chair with his chin propped on his right fist. Of course he was staring intently at her.
“The way a cat watches a rodent.” she thought, and fought the urge to squirm.
“Solon is your Uncle. . . .” Khan started.
“I don't care if he is the President of the Federation. I still do not trust him any further than I can throw him.” Tamarra insisted. Tyr leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and muttered something under his breath, catching both Khan and Tamarra off guard.
“What was that, Sir?” she asked, and frowned. She could've sworn she heard him say something in Spanish. Her adopted parents had taught her Spanish. After all the family ranch and farm was on the Texas/Mexico border and they had Mexican Indios as ranch hands.
Before their discovery, Nietzscheans basically spoke one language and a few scattered dialects. But, when they joined the Federation and Starfleet, their close affiliation with other races gave them to opportunity to learn other languages. Tyr was multi-lingual, and was especially partial to the Human “romance languages”.
“Drago dijo tantas veces a los enemigos peores vienen del corazón de uno de orgullo." he repeated in Spanish. “Drago oft said, one's worst enemies come from the heart of one's own Pride.” Tyr translated, as he gazed directly at Tamarra.
Transaltion: One's own family could be your worst enemies!
“Now that we've identified the enemy, what are we going to do?” Khan asked no one in particular. Tyr tapped the comm badge on his chest.
“Captain Anasazi to Lt. Commander Anol.” he said.
“Anol here, Sir!” was the prompt feminine reply. Lt Commander Xena Anol was The Insurrection's Nietzschean Chief of Security.
“I need a security detail to discretely watch our guests.” Tyr ordered.
“Forgive me, Sir. Watch as in protect?” she asked.
Xena had to ask, because if it was for protection, whom were they protecting the Vulcans from? Themselves? Us?
“Or do you want us to watch for probable cause? If that is the case, you may also need us to perform apprehensions. Since they are considered dignitaries, are there any specifics you want me to abide by, Sir?” Xena continued. The savoy Security Chief was leaving nothing to chance. Dealing with guests of this nature was a tremendous pain in the neck.
“The instant you see or suspect anything untoward, throw their backsides into the brig! If they scream diplomatic immunity, tell them there is no diplomatic immunity ON MY SHIP!” Tyr ordered. He was leaving nothing to chance, either.
“Aye, Sir. I'm on it!” Xena replied, then she yelled for one of her subordinates before the connection was cut. After which, Tyr had himself a good laugh.
“Oh-oh!” Khan thought. “He's having waaaay too much fun!”
“Holy crap! Look what I've started.” Tamarra thought. It was good to see the Captain laugh for a change, but this laughter had a maniacal tone to it.
"Or is it just me suspecting this?" she wondered.
“Might I remind you, Sir, that we have dinner with our guests in approximately four hours.” Khan said.
“Well, my appetite just went right out the airlock, but I will be there.” Tamarra said, as she stood. Tyr grunted his agreement, for he detested those functions, also.
“Class A's, Sir?” Khan asked.
“No. Traditional.” Tyr replied.
Standard operating procedure was that the Captain and command staff dressed in their Starfleet dress uniforms ( Class A's ) to formally receive and welcome dignitaries and diplomatic personages. However, it was up to the individual Captain to make the ultimate choice of what his command staff should wear.
In Tyr's case, "traditional" meant that he was definitely wearing something Nietzschean.
“And if it is anything like the outfit that he wore to dinner a few nights ago, Team Solon is in big trouble!” Tamarra thought.
* * * * * * * *
Four hours later, the command staff of The Insurrection and the Vulcans were waiting. They were waiting because Captain Anasazi and Yeoman-Counselor Khan were late.
Tamarra hung her head to hide a smile, because she knew exactly what Tyr was up to. The man rarely did things without making some kind of nonverbal statement. He was going to be late because he wanted to make a grand entrance.
All conversations stopped as the doors opened and in strode Captain Anasazi with Khan at his heels. Tamarra forced herself not to stare. He was dressed in black boots, black leather pants, a CHAIN MAIL singlet, a deck length sleeveless cape, his gauntlets were bejeweled, and his bone blades were individually encased in matching bejeweled sheaths, plus he was armed.
Tyr was definitely dressed to impress. However, instead of the "come hither" look he had projected to her during dinner, Tyr was now sporting the "Bring it on!" look! If anything, he looked prepared to start his own personal Armageddon.
"He still looks sexy as hell, though!" Tamarra thought, as Kori gave her a discrete poke, reminding her to breathe. Team Solon froze in various stages of action as they stared with their own special brand of Vulcan intensity.
Tyr commandeered a corner and his staff surrounded him, causing a division in the room. Team Solon stood on one side and Team Insurrection stood on the other. Gynn, the head steward slipped in and spoke to the Captain.
“Would you like anything special from the kitchen, Sir?” she asked.
The event was being served buffet style, but, rank had it's privileges. The Captain could place an order and it would be processed for him in minutes. Nietzscheans detested replicated food so Gynn probably had a salad or some similar healthy item stashed away just for Tyr.
“No thank you, Gynn. I will not be eating tonight.” Tyr replied, as he sipped a glass of fruit juice. Kori stared at him.
“Captain, this is a diplomatic event. You are supposed to eat at diplomatic events as a show of good faith.” The Klingon CMO, insisted.
“According to Drago Musuveni, there are three things you do not do in the presence of enemies. Eat, sleep, or turn your back.” Tyr quoted, word for word from “Ancestor's Breath”. A life directing tome written by Drago, who was the "First Nietzschean", and adopted by all Nietzscheans as their Bible.
Even though Nietzscheans have been generically engineered with the ability to ingest most poisons without suffering side effects or death, they do not like to tempt fate, or The Divine.
“ . . . . .So, I do not break bread with the enemy.” Tyr continued, indicating the Vulcan party across the room.
So, for the rest of the evening, they stood around and talked. Tamarra was pleasantly surprised to find that both Tyr and Khan stayed at her elbow. Because, whenever she looked up, she received hard, disapproving glares from Team Solon. Their “esteemed” leader seemed to be especially incised.
“Oh hell! What terrible thing have I done now?” she thought, as Tyr skillfully maneuvered her so that her back was to them briefly.
“I am leaving, before I spew.” Tyr stated, simply. Tamarra forced down the urge to laugh out loud. The man certainly had a way with words.
For emphasis, Tyr drained then crushed his glass in his right hand. He slammed the remnants to the deck, and stalked out, taking his staff with him.
* * * * * *
“He's such a Drama King!” Tamarra thought, as they all entered the lift together.
“Captain, you need to stop by Sickbay and let me clean that glass out of your hand.” Kori said.
Kori was well aware that Nietzscheans were capable of healing a lot faster than their Human cousins. The trick was to get the glass out of his hand quickly, so the epidermis would not heal up over it. . . . . .
“That went well. What do you have planed as an encore?” Khan asked.
“I'd like to fire a couple hot ones into their nacelles.” Tyr rumbled.
“But, they don't have a ship.” Tamarra stated. Privately horrified that she was thinking along the same lines. There was something about Team Solon that was unsettling. She just couldn't put her finger on it yet.
“Find an abandoned garbage scow, beam them onto it, and I'll take it from there.” Tyr replied, confidently, as he debarked the lift in the company of Kori.
“I'm sure you would.” Tamarra thought, and smiled, as the lift doors closed.
Head To Head - Chapter 15
Disclaimer: Greetings! It's me again! This is just a friendly reminder to let you know that this story is not written strictly according to Star Trek / Andromeda CANNON, so you are going to see some strange goings on. Please have fun and enjoy the story anyway. . . . .
Free Enterprise - Head To Head - Chapter 15
After she left the Lion's Den, Tamarra took the lift down to the VIP quarters which were located just below Officer's Country. She stepped out of the lift to a crowded corridor. Shipping crates, Insurrection officers and Vulcans dominated the scene.
Tamarra wormed her way through the morass and found her way into the Quad. She found Solon in his tiny office having a “heated” discussion with two of his aides. Upon seeing her, he ended his conversation, and the aides left.
According to her Vulcan family history, Solon was Soval's identical twin. Soval was the more “personable and outgoing” one, while Solon was the aloof and withdrawn introvert. Rumor had it that he had taken his brother's assassination very hard. So much so, that his personality changed, and his wife left him. In essence, Solon had become a “hard” man to deal with. Even for Vulcans. . . . .
“Uncle Solon. I bid thee greetings.” she said formally, as she held her hand up in the Vulcan salute.
“I bid thee greetings, T'Marr.” Solon intoned, as he mirrored her gesture. Tamarra winced inwardly, when he mentioned her Vulcan name.
“Here goes nothing.” she thought.
“Uncle Solon. I must respectfully ask that you no longer address my by that name.” Tamarra said. Solon's face turned even sterner as he lifted an eyebrow at her. A sure sign of displeasure.
“We have lift off!” Tamarra thought.
“That is an illogical request, since that is your name,” Solon challenged.
“I officially submitted a request to change my name back to Tamarra. I would appreciate it if you would address me by that name from now on.”
“Has your close affiliation with the Nietzscehans prompted this decision?” Solon pressed, sounding like a prosecuting attorney questioning the witness for the defense.
“WT . . . . . .” she though, and nearly frowned.
“No it has not. Illogical as it may sound, I happen to like my Human name better.” Tamarra replied with equal fervor.
“I will endeavor to remember it.” Solon replied.
“Thank You.” she said. Glad she had won that small victory. “Do you and the team have everything that's needed?” she continued.
"Yes we do, although our accommodations are a bit cramped.” Solon replied.
“Yes, well that can not be helped! You decided to make this so-called visit at the last minute. Then decided to bring every man and jack! Let them all sleep on the deck and hang from the bulkheads for all I care! The Insurrection is a warship, not a diplomatic shuttle!” she thought.
“Your complaint is so noted.” Tamarra stated. “Oh, by the way. Captain Tyr Anasazi, out of Victory by Barbarossa, of the Kodiak Pride, is my Captain and superior officer. He will be respected as long as you dwell within the Insurrection's bulkheads and breathe her recycled air! Have I made myself clear?” she continued, authoritatively. Solon glowered back at her, resentful that she would order him about.
At that second, Tamarra went from being Solon's niece to looking every inch the Starship Commander. She'd also deliberately went out of her way to recite Tyr's bloodline, to apparent Solon's chagrin.
“For someone who is planning to do this big study on how Nietzscehans interact with others, Solon certainly doesn't appear to like them very much. Or perhaps, that's just my paranoid opinion.” Tamarra thought.
“Understood.” Solon replied, solemnly.
“Good day, Uncle Solon.” she said.
“Good day. . . . . . .Tamarra.” Solon replied.
* * * * * * *
Riding in the lift back to the bridge, Tamarra did something very strange for a Vulcan.
“YES!” she shouted, as she did a fist pump.
Free Enterprise - Head To Head - Chapter 15
After she left the Lion's Den, Tamarra took the lift down to the VIP quarters which were located just below Officer's Country. She stepped out of the lift to a crowded corridor. Shipping crates, Insurrection officers and Vulcans dominated the scene.
Tamarra wormed her way through the morass and found her way into the Quad. She found Solon in his tiny office having a “heated” discussion with two of his aides. Upon seeing her, he ended his conversation, and the aides left.
According to her Vulcan family history, Solon was Soval's identical twin. Soval was the more “personable and outgoing” one, while Solon was the aloof and withdrawn introvert. Rumor had it that he had taken his brother's assassination very hard. So much so, that his personality changed, and his wife left him. In essence, Solon had become a “hard” man to deal with. Even for Vulcans. . . . .
“Uncle Solon. I bid thee greetings.” she said formally, as she held her hand up in the Vulcan salute.
“I bid thee greetings, T'Marr.” Solon intoned, as he mirrored her gesture. Tamarra winced inwardly, when he mentioned her Vulcan name.
“Here goes nothing.” she thought.
“Uncle Solon. I must respectfully ask that you no longer address my by that name.” Tamarra said. Solon's face turned even sterner as he lifted an eyebrow at her. A sure sign of displeasure.
“We have lift off!” Tamarra thought.
“That is an illogical request, since that is your name,” Solon challenged.
“I officially submitted a request to change my name back to Tamarra. I would appreciate it if you would address me by that name from now on.”
“Has your close affiliation with the Nietzscehans prompted this decision?” Solon pressed, sounding like a prosecuting attorney questioning the witness for the defense.
“WT . . . . . .” she though, and nearly frowned.
“No it has not. Illogical as it may sound, I happen to like my Human name better.” Tamarra replied with equal fervor.
“I will endeavor to remember it.” Solon replied.
“Thank You.” she said. Glad she had won that small victory. “Do you and the team have everything that's needed?” she continued.
"Yes we do, although our accommodations are a bit cramped.” Solon replied.
“Yes, well that can not be helped! You decided to make this so-called visit at the last minute. Then decided to bring every man and jack! Let them all sleep on the deck and hang from the bulkheads for all I care! The Insurrection is a warship, not a diplomatic shuttle!” she thought.
“Your complaint is so noted.” Tamarra stated. “Oh, by the way. Captain Tyr Anasazi, out of Victory by Barbarossa, of the Kodiak Pride, is my Captain and superior officer. He will be respected as long as you dwell within the Insurrection's bulkheads and breathe her recycled air! Have I made myself clear?” she continued, authoritatively. Solon glowered back at her, resentful that she would order him about.
At that second, Tamarra went from being Solon's niece to looking every inch the Starship Commander. She'd also deliberately went out of her way to recite Tyr's bloodline, to apparent Solon's chagrin.
“For someone who is planning to do this big study on how Nietzscehans interact with others, Solon certainly doesn't appear to like them very much. Or perhaps, that's just my paranoid opinion.” Tamarra thought.
“Understood.” Solon replied, solemnly.
“Good day, Uncle Solon.” she said.
“Good day. . . . . . .Tamarra.” Solon replied.
* * * * * * *
Riding in the lift back to the bridge, Tamarra did something very strange for a Vulcan.
“YES!” she shouted, as she did a fist pump.
D-Day - Chapter 14
Free Enterprise - "D" Day - Chapter #14
“Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” Tamarra quoted mentally to herself as she and Captain Anasazi, Yeoman-Counselor Khan, Chief Medical Officer Kori and Lt Commander Gilgamesh rode the lift down to the main transporter room.
Before entering, Tamarra gave herself a once over to make sure everything was okay. Checking her face in the shiny surface of the bulkhead
“Making sure there is nothing unseemly hanging from my nose, and no green leafy things "adroning my teeth.” Tamarra thought.
Her Mom taught her that before appearing at special events, a woman should always check such things. Funny thing, Kori stepped up and did the very same thing, the second Tamarra walked away . . . . . .
“Making sure my nose and ridges are not shiny.” Kori thought.
Both Tyr and Gilgamesh were being typical Nietzscheans, and carried sidearms as well as their handy-dandy, all purpose cutting implements. A wicked version of a K-Bar, or Bowie knife.
“Before this is over, I might have to borrow one of those.” Tamarra thought. Kori long had designs on her consorts weapon. Klingon's were great lovers of swords and daggers, so they appreciated a good “toothpick” when they saw one.
The team had already materialized and out of the group of perhaps 25, Khan and Tyr recognized Solon first. The family resemblance was striking. But it ended there, for the man presented a stern, school teacher visage.
“That's Solon.” Tamarra whispered to Tyr. He nodded once, and she immediately knew what it meant. It was that “I'll take it from here.” look.
“Greetings, I am Captain Tyr Anasazi. . . . . “ Tyr started.
“Yes I am well aware of who you are. Are our accommodations ready?” Solon asked, cutting the Captain off in the middle of his welcoming speech. Tyr glared at the Vulcan and would've growled if Khan had not poked him with a carefully extended talon. Tyr turned to glare Khan upon feeling the sting. Then Khan, Kori and Gilgamesh all glowered at Solon.
“OMG! Uncle Solon! That was so rude!” Tamarra said. She restrained herself mightily from saying “freakin'”. All around them, Vulcans stopped their work to raise their eyebrows at her outburst.
“T'Marr, we will speak later in private. Right now we must set up our equipment to begin our study. Time is of the essence.” Solon said, as he, lifted some equipment onto an anti-grav sled. To Tamarra it looked as if they had packed enough to stay a year.
“What the hell is Solon up to?” she wondered, as she frowned at Team Solan's retreating backs. There was a tiny detail niggling her mind, but she couldn't quite get a handle on it. She looked up and noticed everyone had gone and headed straight back up to the bridge and to The Lion's Den.
* * * * * * *
“No, Tyr. You cannot space them.” Khan said patiently and sagely. He watched as the Nietzschean Captain paced his office like a huge black cat. Tyr Anasazi was furious! The one thing you did not do was cut off an Alpha Nietzschean while he was quoting his bloodline!
“They beam on to MY ship, insult ME and expect hospitality from ME AND MY CREW?! I'll show them hospitality, in the nearest airlock!” Tyr bellowed, as, Khan crossed his arms, stood his ground, and gazed coolly at his friend.
He was about to answer Tyr's tirade, when Tamarra stumbled in. She had run from the transporter room to the nearest lift, and from the lift she had dashed into the Lion's Den, not realizing that Khan and Tyr were engaged in a “heavy conversation”. The atmosphere in the Ready Room was so volatile, it could've been ignited with one spark.
“Captain! Sir! I beg forgiveness on the behalf of my Uncle.” she blurted. Either Solon had no clue as to the gaff he'd just committed or he knew and did not care. Tamarra was hoping it was the former instead of the latter. She prayed it wasn't the latter. . . . . . .
“Why? Is he not man enough to come and ask me himself?” Tyr challenged. Khan pulled his whiskers back slightly. Tyr's tone had calmed down tremendously in her presence.
“I believe he does not know enough about Nietzschean culture to realize what he did was a horrible faux pas.” Tamarra answered.
“Let us hope that is so. In the meantime he has a temporary reprieve.” Tyr stated, as he crossed his arms, displaying his boneblades which were now at half mast.
“Thank you, Sir.” Tamarra replied, casting a shy smile in Tyr's direction before she exited.
“Tyr? What have I told you about that posture?” Khan asked, patiently. Tyr glanced at his Katay friend and rolled his eyes. However, the boneblades now lay flat against the back of his forearms.
“She was not intimidated.” Tyr replied, as he shrugged.
“That's because she loves you, you thick-skulled Nietzschean dolt.” Khan chuffed. “Save that posture to use on your enemies. Speaking of which, what do you intend to do with Solon and his people?”
“I will watch and wait.” Tyr stated, ferocity returning to his voice. In Khan's eyes, it looked like the so-called scientists had just become Tyr's prey. . . . .
"As the ancient Earth film star named Mister T, used to say 'I pity the fool'." Khan thought.
“Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” Tamarra quoted mentally to herself as she and Captain Anasazi, Yeoman-Counselor Khan, Chief Medical Officer Kori and Lt Commander Gilgamesh rode the lift down to the main transporter room.
Before entering, Tamarra gave herself a once over to make sure everything was okay. Checking her face in the shiny surface of the bulkhead
“Making sure there is nothing unseemly hanging from my nose, and no green leafy things "adroning my teeth.” Tamarra thought.
Her Mom taught her that before appearing at special events, a woman should always check such things. Funny thing, Kori stepped up and did the very same thing, the second Tamarra walked away . . . . . .
“Making sure my nose and ridges are not shiny.” Kori thought.
Both Tyr and Gilgamesh were being typical Nietzscheans, and carried sidearms as well as their handy-dandy, all purpose cutting implements. A wicked version of a K-Bar, or Bowie knife.
“Before this is over, I might have to borrow one of those.” Tamarra thought. Kori long had designs on her consorts weapon. Klingon's were great lovers of swords and daggers, so they appreciated a good “toothpick” when they saw one.
The team had already materialized and out of the group of perhaps 25, Khan and Tyr recognized Solon first. The family resemblance was striking. But it ended there, for the man presented a stern, school teacher visage.
“That's Solon.” Tamarra whispered to Tyr. He nodded once, and she immediately knew what it meant. It was that “I'll take it from here.” look.
“Greetings, I am Captain Tyr Anasazi. . . . . “ Tyr started.
“Yes I am well aware of who you are. Are our accommodations ready?” Solon asked, cutting the Captain off in the middle of his welcoming speech. Tyr glared at the Vulcan and would've growled if Khan had not poked him with a carefully extended talon. Tyr turned to glare Khan upon feeling the sting. Then Khan, Kori and Gilgamesh all glowered at Solon.
“OMG! Uncle Solon! That was so rude!” Tamarra said. She restrained herself mightily from saying “freakin'”. All around them, Vulcans stopped their work to raise their eyebrows at her outburst.
“T'Marr, we will speak later in private. Right now we must set up our equipment to begin our study. Time is of the essence.” Solon said, as he, lifted some equipment onto an anti-grav sled. To Tamarra it looked as if they had packed enough to stay a year.
“What the hell is Solon up to?” she wondered, as she frowned at Team Solan's retreating backs. There was a tiny detail niggling her mind, but she couldn't quite get a handle on it. She looked up and noticed everyone had gone and headed straight back up to the bridge and to The Lion's Den.
* * * * * * *
“No, Tyr. You cannot space them.” Khan said patiently and sagely. He watched as the Nietzschean Captain paced his office like a huge black cat. Tyr Anasazi was furious! The one thing you did not do was cut off an Alpha Nietzschean while he was quoting his bloodline!
“They beam on to MY ship, insult ME and expect hospitality from ME AND MY CREW?! I'll show them hospitality, in the nearest airlock!” Tyr bellowed, as, Khan crossed his arms, stood his ground, and gazed coolly at his friend.
He was about to answer Tyr's tirade, when Tamarra stumbled in. She had run from the transporter room to the nearest lift, and from the lift she had dashed into the Lion's Den, not realizing that Khan and Tyr were engaged in a “heavy conversation”. The atmosphere in the Ready Room was so volatile, it could've been ignited with one spark.
“Captain! Sir! I beg forgiveness on the behalf of my Uncle.” she blurted. Either Solon had no clue as to the gaff he'd just committed or he knew and did not care. Tamarra was hoping it was the former instead of the latter. She prayed it wasn't the latter. . . . . . .
“Why? Is he not man enough to come and ask me himself?” Tyr challenged. Khan pulled his whiskers back slightly. Tyr's tone had calmed down tremendously in her presence.
“I believe he does not know enough about Nietzschean culture to realize what he did was a horrible faux pas.” Tamarra answered.
“Let us hope that is so. In the meantime he has a temporary reprieve.” Tyr stated, as he crossed his arms, displaying his boneblades which were now at half mast.
“Thank you, Sir.” Tamarra replied, casting a shy smile in Tyr's direction before she exited.
“Tyr? What have I told you about that posture?” Khan asked, patiently. Tyr glanced at his Katay friend and rolled his eyes. However, the boneblades now lay flat against the back of his forearms.
“She was not intimidated.” Tyr replied, as he shrugged.
“That's because she loves you, you thick-skulled Nietzschean dolt.” Khan chuffed. “Save that posture to use on your enemies. Speaking of which, what do you intend to do with Solon and his people?”
“I will watch and wait.” Tyr stated, ferocity returning to his voice. In Khan's eyes, it looked like the so-called scientists had just become Tyr's prey. . . . .
"As the ancient Earth film star named Mister T, used to say 'I pity the fool'." Khan thought.
Preperations - Chapter 13
NOTE TO READERS: What does T'Marr look like, You wonder. Well, T'Marr looks like “T'Pol” from "Enterprise" ( see photo ). Only she is taller ( approximately 5'11 ) and weighs more ( 185lbs ), she has red hair ( in the same short haircut ), and big green eyes, and she is in excellent shape. Sorry, but I like my heroines to be Lucy Lawless types. . . . . . . . Ho boy! I hope I didn't destroy someone's fantasy. . . .
Free Enterprise - Preparations - Chapter #13
For the next two days Tyr saw very little of T'Marr. It stood to reason because she was still on her “vacation”, plus she was preparing to receive her uncle and his team. When Tyr did see her, she seemed distant and aloof, which saddened him greatly.
“She's not doing that to you on purpose, Tyr.” Khan stated. The Insurrection's Captain sat morosely at his desk and stared at nothing in particular. He was in another of his “Black Funks”.
“She's preparing herself to meet her Uncle Solon and his Vulcan compatriots. You must remember, T'Marr was raised with Humans and though Vulcan, behaves like a Human. She has become comfortable enough around us to be her real self. Now, she has to pull the portcullis down, the drawbridge up, and man the murder holes.” Khan continued. The Nietzschean was sufficiently well versed in ancient Human warfare to understand the castle references.
“That means T'Marr is afraid she will not be accepted by her peers, so she must put up a front.” Tyr replied.
“Bingo!” Khan called. Of all the races in Starfleet, the Vulcans perplexed him the most.
It seemed that with their so-called purge of emotions, they unleashed a whole set of unforeseen problems. The worst being when the entire race split in two, over Surak's teachings. One half of Vulcan's society simply refused to have it shoved down their collective throats. So, those now known as the Romulans, left to seek out thier own planets and start their own civilization while the Vulcans stayed.
"The way I see it, the Vulcans were still chasing their own away. . . . . ." Khan thought, as T'Marr's face came to mind.
There was a storm brewing around her that was so vast that, for the first time in Khan's life, he could not articulate it. And even if he did manage to explain it to Tyr, the poor man would never comprehend it. This was clearly one of those times when the Revelational Guide advised Katay precogs to be quiet and watchful. A poke here, a nudge there, that was all that was needed during such times.
“It is a pity an entire race deemed it necessary to shield themselves so.” Tyr stated, bringing Khan out of his reverie. The Nieztschean rocked back in his chair and put his booted feet up on his desk.
“You do not know ancient Vulcan history, do you?” Khan asked.
“Khan, do I look like I have time to read all of that crap?” Tyr asked, as he gazed up at the Katay and frowned.
The sheer volume of stuff which screamed for the Captain's attention on a daily basis was nearly overwhelming. But, he'd organized the information in priority order, then had The Insurrection's computer READ IT TO HIM while he worked out in his private gym, or relaxing in his quarters, or in his Ready Room. Obviously reading or listening to Vulcan history would have to move up to the head of the line.
“Very well, I will give you a short tutorial. But, you will have to do some research and homework my friend. It's time you learned about T'Marr's Vulcan roots.” Khan admonished. He quickly launched into a short explanation of Vulcan history starting with The Tenents of Surak.
* * * * * * *
Meanwhile, T'Marr was having herself a good cry in the privacy of her own quarters. She hated distancing herself from the crew and Tyr, but she had to in order to prepare herself for Solon's visit. And that not only hurt, but sucked big time. . . . . . . .
Vulcan shielding was a lot like the reverse of peeling an onion, it went on in layers. Since she hadn't been using it to it's full capacity for a while, she needed some time to build it back up. T'Marr was not sure she would be able to restore it properly in time for Solon's visit. Knowing Solon, he would take one look at her and would know she was “not right”.
"So be it then." she thought.
T'Marr was tired of being a phony. She just wanted to be herself. She liked having emotions and being emotional . . . . within reason. But, it seemed that every Vulcan she met wanted to give her a total make over into a Super Vulcan. That was simply not going to ever happen. Not as long as she drew breath.
“Perhaps this is the perfect time for me to take a stand.” T'Marr thought fiercely, as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She gazed at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. One good look and anyone in their right mind would know she'd been boo-hooing, but, that was alright. She was among friends.
“The first thing I must do is to file an official petition for a name change. I want my Human name back.” she thought, as she went to the closet and picked through her selection of Vulcan robes. Unfortunately, Team Solon's presence meant more diplomatic dinners. Something Tyr detested to no end.
“Poor babe.” she thought as she held up a dark purple robe. She smiled and chuckled to herself for calling Tyr a babe. The Alpha Nietzschean stood 182.88 centimeters (6'4”) and weighed approximately 129.27 kilos (285 lbs) and that was NO BABE!
“No laughing allowed!” T'Marr admonished, as she slapped the back of her own right hand. It served to make things even funnier, and she laughed harder.
“Oh-oh! I foresee a BIG screw up and a BIG dust up!” she thought and sighed, once she had calmed down. Right there she decided it would be better to make enemies of the Vulcans, than to lose her friends on the Insurrection.
Free Enterprise - Preparations - Chapter #13
For the next two days Tyr saw very little of T'Marr. It stood to reason because she was still on her “vacation”, plus she was preparing to receive her uncle and his team. When Tyr did see her, she seemed distant and aloof, which saddened him greatly.
“She's not doing that to you on purpose, Tyr.” Khan stated. The Insurrection's Captain sat morosely at his desk and stared at nothing in particular. He was in another of his “Black Funks”.
“She's preparing herself to meet her Uncle Solon and his Vulcan compatriots. You must remember, T'Marr was raised with Humans and though Vulcan, behaves like a Human. She has become comfortable enough around us to be her real self. Now, she has to pull the portcullis down, the drawbridge up, and man the murder holes.” Khan continued. The Nietzschean was sufficiently well versed in ancient Human warfare to understand the castle references.
“That means T'Marr is afraid she will not be accepted by her peers, so she must put up a front.” Tyr replied.
“Bingo!” Khan called. Of all the races in Starfleet, the Vulcans perplexed him the most.
It seemed that with their so-called purge of emotions, they unleashed a whole set of unforeseen problems. The worst being when the entire race split in two, over Surak's teachings. One half of Vulcan's society simply refused to have it shoved down their collective throats. So, those now known as the Romulans, left to seek out thier own planets and start their own civilization while the Vulcans stayed.
"The way I see it, the Vulcans were still chasing their own away. . . . . ." Khan thought, as T'Marr's face came to mind.
There was a storm brewing around her that was so vast that, for the first time in Khan's life, he could not articulate it. And even if he did manage to explain it to Tyr, the poor man would never comprehend it. This was clearly one of those times when the Revelational Guide advised Katay precogs to be quiet and watchful. A poke here, a nudge there, that was all that was needed during such times.
“It is a pity an entire race deemed it necessary to shield themselves so.” Tyr stated, bringing Khan out of his reverie. The Nieztschean rocked back in his chair and put his booted feet up on his desk.
“You do not know ancient Vulcan history, do you?” Khan asked.
“Khan, do I look like I have time to read all of that crap?” Tyr asked, as he gazed up at the Katay and frowned.
The sheer volume of stuff which screamed for the Captain's attention on a daily basis was nearly overwhelming. But, he'd organized the information in priority order, then had The Insurrection's computer READ IT TO HIM while he worked out in his private gym, or relaxing in his quarters, or in his Ready Room. Obviously reading or listening to Vulcan history would have to move up to the head of the line.
“Very well, I will give you a short tutorial. But, you will have to do some research and homework my friend. It's time you learned about T'Marr's Vulcan roots.” Khan admonished. He quickly launched into a short explanation of Vulcan history starting with The Tenents of Surak.
* * * * * * *
Meanwhile, T'Marr was having herself a good cry in the privacy of her own quarters. She hated distancing herself from the crew and Tyr, but she had to in order to prepare herself for Solon's visit. And that not only hurt, but sucked big time. . . . . . . .
Vulcan shielding was a lot like the reverse of peeling an onion, it went on in layers. Since she hadn't been using it to it's full capacity for a while, she needed some time to build it back up. T'Marr was not sure she would be able to restore it properly in time for Solon's visit. Knowing Solon, he would take one look at her and would know she was “not right”.
"So be it then." she thought.
T'Marr was tired of being a phony. She just wanted to be herself. She liked having emotions and being emotional . . . . within reason. But, it seemed that every Vulcan she met wanted to give her a total make over into a Super Vulcan. That was simply not going to ever happen. Not as long as she drew breath.
“Perhaps this is the perfect time for me to take a stand.” T'Marr thought fiercely, as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She gazed at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. One good look and anyone in their right mind would know she'd been boo-hooing, but, that was alright. She was among friends.
“The first thing I must do is to file an official petition for a name change. I want my Human name back.” she thought, as she went to the closet and picked through her selection of Vulcan robes. Unfortunately, Team Solon's presence meant more diplomatic dinners. Something Tyr detested to no end.
“Poor babe.” she thought as she held up a dark purple robe. She smiled and chuckled to herself for calling Tyr a babe. The Alpha Nietzschean stood 182.88 centimeters (6'4”) and weighed approximately 129.27 kilos (285 lbs) and that was NO BABE!
“No laughing allowed!” T'Marr admonished, as she slapped the back of her own right hand. It served to make things even funnier, and she laughed harder.
“Oh-oh! I foresee a BIG screw up and a BIG dust up!” she thought and sighed, once she had calmed down. Right there she decided it would be better to make enemies of the Vulcans, than to lose her friends on the Insurrection.
Kimshe? What Kimshee? - Chapter 12
Free Enterprise - Kimshee? What's Kimshee?
- Chapter #12
The Alpha Shift Bridge Crew looked up when Captain Tyr strode off the lift, and down to the last man, woman and being, and all exchanged “the look”. Oh-oh, Kimshee's about to his the fan!
Gilgamesh vacated the chair and sat at an auxiliary station, and melted into the background. All was quiet as Captain Anasazi spent the next three hours glowering at the main viewer, growling and snapping out rapid-fire orders.
Nietzscheans are capable of functioning on little to no sleep, depending on the circumstances. But, a Nietzschean suffering from lack of sleep was dangerous be around. So, the crew did well to step lightly around Tyr.
Only one being dared to place himself directly in the line of fire. Khan. Everyone heard when the lift doors opened and saw Khan step out and head for The Lion's Den. Tyr gave him five minutes, placed Gilgamesh in charge of the comm and followed Khan's lead. On the bridge everyone battened down the hatches.
Ever alert to Tyr's moods, Khan saw the storm clouds the moment he stepped onto the Bridge.
“The man had a wonderful dinner last night with T'Marr, what the heck could have possibly gone wrong?” Khan wondered.
“So, how was it?” Khan asked. He knew, but, the counselor in him HAD to ask. Tyr was standing in his favorite spot, at the viewport and staring morosely at the stars. It was cathartic for him. The Nietzschean shrugged his muscular shoulders, in response.
“That's all?” Khan asked, as he imitated his superior and friend's action. He sensed the mood shift and prepared for the onslaught. A normal red-blooded Human being would've run for the hills.
“What would you have me to say, Cat? Nietzscheans do not date! In case you have not noticed, Nietzscheans have strict ritualized means of choosing their mates, for the express purpose of keeping the species pure. Love has no place in that ritual. Call it a purely business transaction, what ever you like. It is our way! Period!” Tyr thundered at Khan, as his expression turned murderous.
“Tyr, you are so full of crap, your eyes are brown.” Khan challenged, as he dared pull his whiskers back in a smile. “You mean to tell me that after the Matriarch has selected her champion, there is no love felt between them?” he continued.
“There is the exchange of bloodline information, and blood tests. . . . . . No, there is not.” Tyr insisted, as he shrugged again. He was simply not in the mood to delve into a treaties on Nietzschean mating.
“You lie, Tyr. I hear that the husband must cater to his Matriarch if he . . .” Khan started.
“If you already know these things, why do you ask?” Tyr shot back, cutting Khan off.
“I'm just trying to get you to admit that under that persona of a supposedly perfect genetic specimen . . . . . .” Khan interjected.
“I am what?” Tyr shouted.
“Human! Despite Paul Museveni's lofty intentions, he used the Human genome as his foundation. That means you still possess the same Human desires for self worth, to love and be loved as your Homo Sapien cousins. Even though you deny it, you Tyr are just a Human!” Khan continued.
“And you are just a freakin' cat!” Tyr hissed, accusingly.
“Guilty as charged.” Khan replied, as he executed a sweeping bow.
Arguments, heated debates, fights, and civil wars had been started among the Katay, by that statement. Had Tyr not been such a close and dear friend, Khan would've ripped his face off for saying it.
“There, now do you feel better that you've said that?” Khan asked.
“No, I do not. Forgive me.” Tyr muttered, as he crossed his arms, faced the viewport and actually pouted. Khan briefly wondered what the Nietzschean would do if he could “see himself”. Right now, the fearsome Captain resembled a petulant child.
“You're forgiven.” Khan replied.
“Khan, what do I do about T'Marr?” Tyr asked, after a few minutes of companionable silence.
“What do you mean?” Khan asked. He was well aware of what Tyr was asking, but, again he had to ask.
“I am woefully inept in the . . . . . . Human . . . . . . concept of dating. . . .” Tyr began. He said the word “dating” as if it were both sour and very bitter, and scrunched up his face with distaste, to boot.
When Paul Museveni created the first Nietzscheans, he kept them isolated in a remote location, for fear he and his creations would be hunted down and destroyed. As a result, a super-species of Humans developed completely without knowledge of the rich cultures they had descended from.
Oh, Museveni made sure they were soundly indoctrinated in Darwinism, and Dawkinite genetic competitiveness, and the works of Nietzsche. They were discovered and befriended by the Katay. The two races formed a close and lasting alliance like the Ying and Yang which was instrumental in getting them both accepted into the Federation and Starfleet. Much like what the Vulcans did with Humans.
“You just befriend her, Tyr. Befriend her and she will learn to trust you and eventually love you.” Khan replied. “That means being pleasant for a change, Tyr. You can't go around ticked off at the universe all of the time. It's bad enough you terrify the crew. You don't want to scare off your lady love. . . .” Khan continued, but Tyr growled like a Doberman and cut him off.
“. . . . . That too has to stop.” Khan warned, as he wagged a finger at Tyr. The Nietzschean sighed, rolled his eyes and looked back at the stars.
“Bye the way, just in case, watch out for the Vulcan Nerve Pinch.” Khan warned as afterthought. Tyr turned to gaze at Khan with both eyebrows raised.
“The Vulcan Nerve Pinch?” he asked. This was the first time in Tyr's Starfleet career he'd ever had such close and extensive contact with a Vulcan. Therefore he was clueless about their most infamous defense mechanism.
“I do not know if it is as effective on Nietzscheans as it is on Humans, but. . . . .” Khan began, and went on to explain in detail how the Nerve Pinch was applied.
* * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later, Tyr was leaving the Ready Room to return to the comm, with Khan right behind him. Suddenly Khan huffed. Attuned to his friend, Tyr stopped. The door opened and T'Marr was standing in the doorway, ready to press the buzzer.
“I need to speak to you in private about an urgent matter, Sir.” she stated simply, after getting over the initial fright of being right up in Tyr's grille. She honestly didn't know whether she was more frightened to death or turned on. She immediately slammed and dogged down her Vulcan mental shields.
“This must be serious, because she is in uniform.” Tyr thought. For she still had four days left on her “vacation”.
Tyr and Khan stepped back to allow her entrance into The Ready Room proper.
“Sir, in two days Solon will be arriving with a team of xeno-sociologists from The Vulcan Academy of Sciences. “ she announced.
“Why?” Tyr demanded.
“Solon claims that they wish to study Nietzscheans at work and living in a close environment with other races.” she replied. Tyr frowned because the Vulcans should've known by now that Nietzscheans were capable of "playing nice with others."
“There has to be hundreds of Starfleet vessels out there that have mixed crews. Why this ship in particular? ” Tyr demanded, once again.
“Solon is my Uncle, Sir. And he is using this as as excuse to check on me, Sir.” T'Marr replied, as she blushed a very light tint of green. Tyr noticed and filed that fact away for later.
“Let them come. We will be ready for them.” Tyr stated. Khan's ears pricked up. He'd heard of that same declaration made by numerous men and women of war, upon approach the of an enemy.
“Divine have mercy! We'd better lock down all of the weapons lockers!” Khan thought. If Tyr had his way, he would roam the Insurrection's corridors packing a Guass rifle, hunt, and pick them off one by one.
“Sir, I just want you to know that I tried to get them to cancel this fiasco, but they were already in route.” T'Marr apologized, before hastily taking her leave. Tyr immediately turned to Khan.
“I believe this will put our little experiment on hold.” Tyr sighed. After all, he couldn't very well “date” T'Marr while her uncle and his “people” were on board and watching them from all angles.
“No it doesn't. There is more than one way to skin a cat.” Khan declared, then immediately winced upon realizing his gaff. Tyr roared with mirth. Khan could not help but join in.
* * * * * *
Outside, the bridge crew sighed with relief.
"At least they're not tryin' to kill each other." whispered Ensign DeMato. Everyone shushed him, but agreed.
- Chapter #12
The Alpha Shift Bridge Crew looked up when Captain Tyr strode off the lift, and down to the last man, woman and being, and all exchanged “the look”. Oh-oh, Kimshee's about to his the fan!
Gilgamesh vacated the chair and sat at an auxiliary station, and melted into the background. All was quiet as Captain Anasazi spent the next three hours glowering at the main viewer, growling and snapping out rapid-fire orders.
Nietzscheans are capable of functioning on little to no sleep, depending on the circumstances. But, a Nietzschean suffering from lack of sleep was dangerous be around. So, the crew did well to step lightly around Tyr.
Only one being dared to place himself directly in the line of fire. Khan. Everyone heard when the lift doors opened and saw Khan step out and head for The Lion's Den. Tyr gave him five minutes, placed Gilgamesh in charge of the comm and followed Khan's lead. On the bridge everyone battened down the hatches.
Ever alert to Tyr's moods, Khan saw the storm clouds the moment he stepped onto the Bridge.
“The man had a wonderful dinner last night with T'Marr, what the heck could have possibly gone wrong?” Khan wondered.
“So, how was it?” Khan asked. He knew, but, the counselor in him HAD to ask. Tyr was standing in his favorite spot, at the viewport and staring morosely at the stars. It was cathartic for him. The Nietzschean shrugged his muscular shoulders, in response.
“That's all?” Khan asked, as he imitated his superior and friend's action. He sensed the mood shift and prepared for the onslaught. A normal red-blooded Human being would've run for the hills.
“What would you have me to say, Cat? Nietzscheans do not date! In case you have not noticed, Nietzscheans have strict ritualized means of choosing their mates, for the express purpose of keeping the species pure. Love has no place in that ritual. Call it a purely business transaction, what ever you like. It is our way! Period!” Tyr thundered at Khan, as his expression turned murderous.
“Tyr, you are so full of crap, your eyes are brown.” Khan challenged, as he dared pull his whiskers back in a smile. “You mean to tell me that after the Matriarch has selected her champion, there is no love felt between them?” he continued.
“There is the exchange of bloodline information, and blood tests. . . . . . No, there is not.” Tyr insisted, as he shrugged again. He was simply not in the mood to delve into a treaties on Nietzschean mating.
“You lie, Tyr. I hear that the husband must cater to his Matriarch if he . . .” Khan started.
“If you already know these things, why do you ask?” Tyr shot back, cutting Khan off.
“I'm just trying to get you to admit that under that persona of a supposedly perfect genetic specimen . . . . . .” Khan interjected.
“I am what?” Tyr shouted.
“Human! Despite Paul Museveni's lofty intentions, he used the Human genome as his foundation. That means you still possess the same Human desires for self worth, to love and be loved as your Homo Sapien cousins. Even though you deny it, you Tyr are just a Human!” Khan continued.
“And you are just a freakin' cat!” Tyr hissed, accusingly.
“Guilty as charged.” Khan replied, as he executed a sweeping bow.
Arguments, heated debates, fights, and civil wars had been started among the Katay, by that statement. Had Tyr not been such a close and dear friend, Khan would've ripped his face off for saying it.
“There, now do you feel better that you've said that?” Khan asked.
“No, I do not. Forgive me.” Tyr muttered, as he crossed his arms, faced the viewport and actually pouted. Khan briefly wondered what the Nietzschean would do if he could “see himself”. Right now, the fearsome Captain resembled a petulant child.
“You're forgiven.” Khan replied.
“Khan, what do I do about T'Marr?” Tyr asked, after a few minutes of companionable silence.
“What do you mean?” Khan asked. He was well aware of what Tyr was asking, but, again he had to ask.
“I am woefully inept in the . . . . . . Human . . . . . . concept of dating. . . .” Tyr began. He said the word “dating” as if it were both sour and very bitter, and scrunched up his face with distaste, to boot.
When Paul Museveni created the first Nietzscheans, he kept them isolated in a remote location, for fear he and his creations would be hunted down and destroyed. As a result, a super-species of Humans developed completely without knowledge of the rich cultures they had descended from.
Oh, Museveni made sure they were soundly indoctrinated in Darwinism, and Dawkinite genetic competitiveness, and the works of Nietzsche. They were discovered and befriended by the Katay. The two races formed a close and lasting alliance like the Ying and Yang which was instrumental in getting them both accepted into the Federation and Starfleet. Much like what the Vulcans did with Humans.
“You just befriend her, Tyr. Befriend her and she will learn to trust you and eventually love you.” Khan replied. “That means being pleasant for a change, Tyr. You can't go around ticked off at the universe all of the time. It's bad enough you terrify the crew. You don't want to scare off your lady love. . . .” Khan continued, but Tyr growled like a Doberman and cut him off.
“. . . . . That too has to stop.” Khan warned, as he wagged a finger at Tyr. The Nietzschean sighed, rolled his eyes and looked back at the stars.
“Bye the way, just in case, watch out for the Vulcan Nerve Pinch.” Khan warned as afterthought. Tyr turned to gaze at Khan with both eyebrows raised.
“The Vulcan Nerve Pinch?” he asked. This was the first time in Tyr's Starfleet career he'd ever had such close and extensive contact with a Vulcan. Therefore he was clueless about their most infamous defense mechanism.
“I do not know if it is as effective on Nietzscheans as it is on Humans, but. . . . .” Khan began, and went on to explain in detail how the Nerve Pinch was applied.
* * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later, Tyr was leaving the Ready Room to return to the comm, with Khan right behind him. Suddenly Khan huffed. Attuned to his friend, Tyr stopped. The door opened and T'Marr was standing in the doorway, ready to press the buzzer.
“I need to speak to you in private about an urgent matter, Sir.” she stated simply, after getting over the initial fright of being right up in Tyr's grille. She honestly didn't know whether she was more frightened to death or turned on. She immediately slammed and dogged down her Vulcan mental shields.
“This must be serious, because she is in uniform.” Tyr thought. For she still had four days left on her “vacation”.
Tyr and Khan stepped back to allow her entrance into The Ready Room proper.
“Sir, in two days Solon will be arriving with a team of xeno-sociologists from The Vulcan Academy of Sciences. “ she announced.
“Why?” Tyr demanded.
“Solon claims that they wish to study Nietzscheans at work and living in a close environment with other races.” she replied. Tyr frowned because the Vulcans should've known by now that Nietzscheans were capable of "playing nice with others."
“There has to be hundreds of Starfleet vessels out there that have mixed crews. Why this ship in particular? ” Tyr demanded, once again.
“Solon is my Uncle, Sir. And he is using this as as excuse to check on me, Sir.” T'Marr replied, as she blushed a very light tint of green. Tyr noticed and filed that fact away for later.
“Let them come. We will be ready for them.” Tyr stated. Khan's ears pricked up. He'd heard of that same declaration made by numerous men and women of war, upon approach the of an enemy.
“Divine have mercy! We'd better lock down all of the weapons lockers!” Khan thought. If Tyr had his way, he would roam the Insurrection's corridors packing a Guass rifle, hunt, and pick them off one by one.
“Sir, I just want you to know that I tried to get them to cancel this fiasco, but they were already in route.” T'Marr apologized, before hastily taking her leave. Tyr immediately turned to Khan.
“I believe this will put our little experiment on hold.” Tyr sighed. After all, he couldn't very well “date” T'Marr while her uncle and his “people” were on board and watching them from all angles.
“No it doesn't. There is more than one way to skin a cat.” Khan declared, then immediately winced upon realizing his gaff. Tyr roared with mirth. Khan could not help but join in.
* * * * * *
Outside, the bridge crew sighed with relief.
"At least they're not tryin' to kill each other." whispered Ensign DeMato. Everyone shushed him, but agreed.
After Dinner - Chapter 11
AUTHOR'S NOTE: “Tamarra” is T'Marr's Human given or first name. She Vulcanized it while studying on Vulcan.
Free Enterprise - After Dinner - Chapter #11
It was five hours later and T'Marr was still awake and burning the midnight oil. She'd gotten undressed, gotten cleaned up, donned her sleepwear. Then she re-hung all of her scattered clothing and was now sitting at her desk in front of her computer console.
She had received a sub-space transmission from her Vulcan uncle Solan reminding her that an important family event was coming up soon. And of course her Vulcan side of the family were anxious for her to attend. Well, not anxious. . . . . . more like looking forward with great anticipation to her being in attendance.
It had been nearly seven years since she had last set foot upon the burning sands of Vulcan, and seen the “Vulcan side of her family”. Honestly, T'Marr was in no rush to return to Vulcan any time soon. Although Vulcan was her original planet of origin, there were too many bad memories associated with it. She sent off a polite but terse reply that she would not be attending, explaining that duty calleth and she could not get away.
T'Marr, then tucked her legs under her semi lotus style and prepared to do her own personal research by first reviewing the past night's events.
After getting off to a bumpy start, dinner with Captain Tyr had been very pleasant. Their conversation had revealed some of his likes and dislikes. One thing he disliked was her new hairstyle and told her so. He also hated the shade of lipstick she wore.
T'Marr smiled realizing that a Human female would've “went off” on him saying those things. As a matter of fact, she didn't like them either. But, the hairstyle was Lieutenant JG Della Sanchez's idea, who'd insisted it would make her more attractive.
“Hah! I looked like a plucked chicken!” T'Marr thought, and smiled. “And that lipstick probably made me look like a courtesan. Next time Tamarra, stick to what you know.”
It was funny how Tyr now knew practically everything about her, but she didn't know that much about him. T'Marr blamed that on being too distracted by the delicious food, and being awe struck by the handsome Nietzschean sitting in front of her. She was amazed she was able consume her meal without choking.
The man certainly knew his way around the kitchen! She was a tad disappointed that the lasagne didn't contain meat. But, he didn't know that she consumed meat.
It's true that all Vulcans were vegetarians and echewed eating meat. But, she'd been raised on Earth and had eaten poultry and fish. After all, her Human family lived on a ranch, and they raised their own crops and livestock.
T'Marr stopped eating meat when she went to Vulcan for her so-called “cultural studies”. But every once in a while, the cravings for grilled chicken breast or salmon would come back with a vengence.
“I'd better tell him soon. Before I have to resort to snatching things off his plate!” she thought, and smiled.
She then accessed The Insurrection's data banks for information on the Nietzschean race, and settled in for some very long and detailed reading.
* * * * * * *
Meanwhile in Tyr's quarters all was dark, still and quiet. No, he was not asleep. Tyr Anasazi out of Victory by Barbarossa of the Kodiak Pride, was sitting at his desk and “wool gathering”.
He had fully intended to make a personal log entry but, the only words he could think of were Khan's words: “Beautiful Vulcan Flower.” Over and over and over again. Despite the horrid hairdo and the loathsome lipstick, T'Marr WAS a “Beautiful Vulcan Flower.”
He glanced at the desk chrono which said 0315 hours and rolled his eyes. He doubted he would get much sleep, but, he sighed and went through the motions anyway.
* * * * * * * *
In Khan's quarters, he was just going to bed also.
“What is it, my husband?” Sabra asked. When her mate didn't sleep, she didn't either.
“It begins.” Khan said, simply.
Free Enterprise - After Dinner - Chapter #11
It was five hours later and T'Marr was still awake and burning the midnight oil. She'd gotten undressed, gotten cleaned up, donned her sleepwear. Then she re-hung all of her scattered clothing and was now sitting at her desk in front of her computer console.
She had received a sub-space transmission from her Vulcan uncle Solan reminding her that an important family event was coming up soon. And of course her Vulcan side of the family were anxious for her to attend. Well, not anxious. . . . . . more like looking forward with great anticipation to her being in attendance.
It had been nearly seven years since she had last set foot upon the burning sands of Vulcan, and seen the “Vulcan side of her family”. Honestly, T'Marr was in no rush to return to Vulcan any time soon. Although Vulcan was her original planet of origin, there were too many bad memories associated with it. She sent off a polite but terse reply that she would not be attending, explaining that duty calleth and she could not get away.
T'Marr, then tucked her legs under her semi lotus style and prepared to do her own personal research by first reviewing the past night's events.
After getting off to a bumpy start, dinner with Captain Tyr had been very pleasant. Their conversation had revealed some of his likes and dislikes. One thing he disliked was her new hairstyle and told her so. He also hated the shade of lipstick she wore.
T'Marr smiled realizing that a Human female would've “went off” on him saying those things. As a matter of fact, she didn't like them either. But, the hairstyle was Lieutenant JG Della Sanchez's idea, who'd insisted it would make her more attractive.
“Hah! I looked like a plucked chicken!” T'Marr thought, and smiled. “And that lipstick probably made me look like a courtesan. Next time Tamarra, stick to what you know.”
It was funny how Tyr now knew practically everything about her, but she didn't know that much about him. T'Marr blamed that on being too distracted by the delicious food, and being awe struck by the handsome Nietzschean sitting in front of her. She was amazed she was able consume her meal without choking.
The man certainly knew his way around the kitchen! She was a tad disappointed that the lasagne didn't contain meat. But, he didn't know that she consumed meat.
It's true that all Vulcans were vegetarians and echewed eating meat. But, she'd been raised on Earth and had eaten poultry and fish. After all, her Human family lived on a ranch, and they raised their own crops and livestock.
T'Marr stopped eating meat when she went to Vulcan for her so-called “cultural studies”. But every once in a while, the cravings for grilled chicken breast or salmon would come back with a vengence.
“I'd better tell him soon. Before I have to resort to snatching things off his plate!” she thought, and smiled.
She then accessed The Insurrection's data banks for information on the Nietzschean race, and settled in for some very long and detailed reading.
* * * * * * *
Meanwhile in Tyr's quarters all was dark, still and quiet. No, he was not asleep. Tyr Anasazi out of Victory by Barbarossa of the Kodiak Pride, was sitting at his desk and “wool gathering”.
He had fully intended to make a personal log entry but, the only words he could think of were Khan's words: “Beautiful Vulcan Flower.” Over and over and over again. Despite the horrid hairdo and the loathsome lipstick, T'Marr WAS a “Beautiful Vulcan Flower.”
He glanced at the desk chrono which said 0315 hours and rolled his eyes. He doubted he would get much sleep, but, he sighed and went through the motions anyway.
* * * * * * * *
In Khan's quarters, he was just going to bed also.
“What is it, my husband?” Sabra asked. When her mate didn't sleep, she didn't either.
“It begins.” Khan said, simply.
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