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.