Issues - Chapter 22

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. . . . . .