Honeymoon? - Chapter 29

NOTES & DISCLAIMER: I know, here is where I bore you again.  . . . . .   This story ( including this episode ) was written as a "Flight Of Fancy" & "Tongue and Cheek" and NOT ACCORDING TO "ANDROMEDA" CANON! Forgive me for being rather strident. . . .

In reality, if a Nietzschean husband decides to take an additional wife or wives, the First Wife HAS NO SAY SO IN THE MATTER! So in this way, Tyr is sort of a kinder and gentler Nietzschean. But, this is not the standard Nietzschean norm. So, if the husband brings home a ditz, it's up to the wife or wives to get rid of her, which is a whole 'nother story. . . . . . . .

I hope all of this explaining, didn't spoil your appetite for the story . . . . . But, some things just had to be done. . . . .


 Free Enterprise  -   Honeymoon? - Chapter 29


The first thing Tyr did before entering his quarters was check the progress the Quartermaster was making in repairing Tamarra's quarters. Since her quarters were right next to his, upon Tyr's orders, it was being repaired with one customized addition: an inside access door between them.

According to Nietzschean tradition, his lady was supposed to have her own quarters/living space, and invite her consort into them. But, because Tamarra's quarters had been trashed, Tyr had to make allowances by inviting her into his.

Tyr entered his quarters through the newly minted door and immediately checked on Tamarra. He was worried that the noise had disturbed her, but saw she was still out cold. So, he tenderly kissed her on her forehead and carefully rearranged the covers around her, tucking them back from where they had fallen to the deck, then went to the kitchen.


* * * * * * * *


Tyr was in the middle of preparing the noon meal when Tamarra finally awoke. He knew she was awake when he got the mental impression, through their marital link, of a tiny white kitten opening it's eyes, yawning and stretching.

Tamarra ran to the fresher, got cleaned up, and got dressed in a pink oversized t-shirt and navy blue capri pants. She was drawn by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. She was famished!

Now, Tyr's kitchenette was little more than a broom closet, and with him in it, there was simply no room. But Tamarra squeezed herself in like a house cat, and to Tyr's mild annoyance, began poking through stuff, rifling the neatly arranged ingredients he had set up in small bowls to toss into the wok.

“Ooooh! Baby corn! I love baby corn!” she said, as she swiped some and stuffed them into her mouth. Tyr playfully fended off her other attempts to pillage more food, chasing her out by brandishing the wooden stirring paddle at her.

Tamarra fled but took the entire bowl of snow peas with her! Tyr merely chuckled and went back to cooking. She sat at the dining table and began to munch happily on her plunder.

About 5 minutes later, Tyr appeared with dishes, silverware and glasses and laid the place settings. He was back minutes later with the food: grilled chicken breasts, Mediterranean rice pilaf, and stir fried vegetables

“There are no snow peas in this dish because someone stole and ate all of them.” Tyr said in a mock stern voice as he arranged the dishes on the table.

“Sorry.” Tamarra said, looking as innocent as a two year old covered head to toe in mud.

“De nada. It's nothing.” Tyr replied, as he sat and took up his silverware and began to eat.

“Did you sleep well?” Tyr asked, after a few minutes of silence, which was only broken by the clicking of silverware against china.

“I think I did, but if I should suddenly pitch forward into my food. . . .” Tamarra started.

“I will make sure you are alright and put you back to bed.” Tyr replied. Noting his Lady had “inhaled” her food, and was now stealing food from his plate,. particularly the the strips of grilled chicken breast. He frowned as this was the first time he'd ever seen her consume meat.

“Whops! I forgot to tell you that I ate meat.” she said, as she noticed her consort's gaze. “I was raised eating it as a child. After all I lived on a ranch where we raised our own crops and livestock. One simply ate what was put before one. When I reached young adulthood, I renounced eating red meat. And when I went to Vulcan. . . . . .” she started.

“You stopped eating meat completely.” Tyr interrupted.

“Yeah. When in Rome, do as the Romans. But, I managed to sneak stuff though, much to the chagrin of the Masters. . . . .” she replied, as she popped the last of the chicken into her mouth.

“Tam, when was the last time you ate?” Tyr asked, using the pet name they had mutually agreed on.

“Our last dinner date, when you made me eat. . . .” she replied. Actually, he did not make her eat. She had eaten to prove that there was nothing wrong with her. Of course, her act did not fool Tyr one bit.

“Tam, that was nearly three weeks ago.” Tyr rumbled. Anyone who didn't know Tyr would've taken a couple of steps back at that tone. Tamarra smiled because she thought it was kind of sweet.

“Yeah. Pon Farr has a tendency to do that to us. We forget everything except. . . . Well, you know.” she replied.

“It was unwise for you to consume so much to break a fast. You should've eaten soup.” Tyr said.

“I wanted food that I can chew Tyr, not soup!” Tamarra replied in mock anger. “Besides, what are you, now? Kori's assistant?” she continued smiling.

“No, I'm merely concerned with the health and well being of my consort.” Tyr gently replied as he reached across the table and took her hand in his. She gripped his hand in return.

“Speaking of consort, I don't understand. Isn't your consort supposed to be fertile in order to bear your future generation?” she asked.

“Yes.” Tyr responded. He knew exactly where she was going with the question. In fact, he was secretly glad she had brought up the subject.

“Tyr, you know as a result of 'the incident' I was rendered incapable of having children. Why would you agree to become the consort of a barren woman?” she asked.

“I did it simply because I love you, Tamarra. I broke with quite a few Nietzschean cultural dictates and traditions. Number one is, Nietzscheans do not pair bond for love. Pair bonding is done on the basis of the Matriarch selecting who is the fittest to sire the next generation . . . . . . .” he started, and gently placed his finger across Tamarra's mouth to silence her flood of questions.

“Number two, male Nietzscheans do not initiate contact. For a Nietzschean male to actively pursue a woman is considered desperate and he is therefore considered unsuitable and undesirable as a mate. Our society is matriarchal and the women, as my Human cousins are fond of saying 'make all of the moves'. Since you are a neophyte in regards to our culture, I took certain liberties. I pray I was not offensive. If I was, I beg forgiveness. Number three," he added "Since I am a high ranking Alpha of the Kodiak Pride I am allowed to have multiple consorts.” he added.

“As far as I'm concerned you did nothing to warrant forgiveness. I honestly do not wish to share you with anyone. But, in light of our circumstances, logic over rules emotion. Even though I have issues with logic as a whole, it is useful at times.” she replied. After a very long silence.

“Tam, it is not the Nietzschean way for me to do this, but I will allow you the power to approve of anyone else I bring into our union.” Tyr stated gently.

“Approve? Like thumbs up or thumbs down?” Tamarra asked, thinking of the Roman arenas.

“Yes.” Tyr said.

"If I don't like her, she gets kicked to the curb?" Tamarra asked.

"Metaphorically speaking of course. Yes, Tam." Tyr said.

“Uh, you wouldn't happen to have a candidate in mind, would you?” she asked. Tyr didn't answer her, however she saw the woman's face in her mind through their marital link.

*** Huh? *** she thought back. She couldn't understand the connection they would have. “You need to start thinking like a Nietzschean, Tamarra.” she chided herself.

“She is also a natural hair care specialist. Since she's taken care of my hair for the past year and a half, she thinks she owns me.” Tyr explained.

He was quite capable of washing, trimming and twisting his own dreadlocks. But, often his multiple Captain's duties over rode his haircare needs. That's where the mystery woman came in.

"I can do it too. I had ten siblings and they all wore dreadlocks. So I became proficient in washing and twisting 'locks'." Tamarra piped up.

"I do not want you two fighting over me." Tyr said with a smile.

"Nah. We'll set up a schedule. I'll do it one time, she'll do it another." Tamarra replied. “By the way, how are we gonna do this?” she asked, warming to the subject at last.

“I suggest we have a nice welcoming dinner for her.” Tyr said.

“That sounds good to me. But it'll have to wait until 'this condition' of mine clears up.” Tamarra replied.

“Certainly.” Tyr replied. “How are you feeling by the way?” he asked, noticing her restlessness, among other things. Tamarra's answer was to get up and race to the bedroom. Tyr followed her.