In Tyr's quarters, Tamarra sat in semi-lotus position on his sofa and watched as he divested himself of his weaponry one by one. First the bandolier, a huge wicked looking knife, a Nietzschean Gauss Gun, and something which resembled a retractable fighting stave used in martial arts. He removed his boots then sat next to her. She unconsciously moved away from him, just a bit. He noticed, of course. But did not press.
“Tamarra, how are we supposed to . . . . . . if I cannot touch you?” Tyr asked.
“I don't know.” she replied in a small voice. To Tyr, she sounded like a child.
“Tamarra, what happened to make you like this?” Tyr asked, quietly. Her response was a trail of tears which ran down her cheeks and met at her chin.
“I cannot tell you, because it is much too painful.” she replied as she wiped her face with her top's sleeve. “However, if you really must know, I can show you.” she continued.
“Show me?” Tyr asked, as he wondered if this had anything to do with her people's telepathic abilities.
“There is this thing we do where we link minds. I will only do it if you permit me to do so.” Tamara stated, as she gazed into Tyr's brown eyes with her green ones.
“I do.” he replied. Tamarra carefully positioned herself, reached out with her right hand to the telepathic contact points on the right side of Tyr's face, closed her eyes and started the ancient Vulcan Mantra.
“My mind to your mind. . . . . . . .”
Perhaps ten minutes later, Tyr opened his eyes to Tamara smiling at him. Not just her typical shy grin but a beatific toothy smile!
**Hello! Is anyone in there?** he heard clearly in his mind. He blinked and pouted at her. It was an expression which Tamarra thought was very sexy on him. He heard that too. Then all at once he had a thousand questions.
In his mind he saw Tamara hold up her hand like an Old Earth traffic cop. Now was not the time for questions. There was a serious issue to address.
“I apologize for what I must reveal to you. It will not be pleasant.” she said.
“Then let us get it over with.” Tyr said. Again Tamarra connected with the telepathic contact points and concentrated. In Tyr's mind he perceived her mental barricades drop like an onion being peeled until it reached the core. Then WHAM! He was hit with the full force of the thing.
He was literally in Tamarra's body and watched as she made “arrangements” for her 2nd Ponn Farr. Supposedly she had done it through a reputable firm based on Vulcan which specialized in such things.
However, when she arrived at the appointed meeting place and time, she was abducted by Orion Pirates and taken to an undisclosed location. From there she was subjected to multiple horrors. Once she returned to normal, she was warned never to reveal her experience to anyone, least those closest to her be killed.
She was then bound, blindfolded and abandoned on a Deity forgotten planet without means of travel, money, or forms of identification. All of which had been previously stolen from her. She took up odd jobs to earn her travel fare back to Vulcan. . . . . . .
The scene ended at that point because The Uber Alpha Nietzschean suffered a good old fashioned Blue Screen Crash. Anything that was too painful, traumatic or overwhelming to the Humaniod mind and it would simply shut down for it's own protection. Such was the case with Tyr as he fell flat on his butt and out like a light.
Tyr snorted and awoke five minutes later and scowled at Tamara. He'd clearly seen and memorized the face of the monster who'd done this to her. The Nietzschean vowed he would not rest until the atrocity was avenged.
“Tamarra. It is seven years later and you still have not informed the authorities?” Tyr asked, incredulously.
“What could they had done? Gall is the head of the Orion Syndicate, and has his green fingers in many pies. He threatened to kill off my adopted family if I told the authorities. He knew all about how my parents were assassinated, and I strongly believe his father had something to do with it before he died and left the Syndicate to his son. How do you . . . . . . . what do you to a person like that?” Tamarra asked miserably.
“You simply annihilate them.” Tyr said.
“OMG! Surely you do not intend to. . . .” Tamarra gasped.
“Tamarra, has anyone ever told you that they loved you?” Tyr asked, totally distracting her. He was now sitting cross legged, on the deck, in front of her and gazing directly into her eyes.
“No.” was her answer.
“Why not?” Tyr asked.
“I mean who would want me? Look at me! I'm a mess!” she replied, and stifled a sob.
“Tamara, no one has ever touched you like this?” Tyr asked, as he reached out with his right thumb and gently drew it along the top of her right hand. His whole being focused on her reaction. The rising of her blood pressure, increased respiration, the dilation of her pupils. She stared at him with wide and frightened eyes.
“Divine give me patience. This is going to be like taming a wild horse.” Tyr thought.
Harkening back to a personal experience he'd had during an extended teaching leave on Earth three years ago. He'd tamed a horse the American Indian Native Way, by selecting and separating it from it's herd, and living with it, in the wild, to gain it's trust. Eventually the stallion he'd named Hannibal, allowed Tyr to ride him. But, it took time and extreme patience. Tamarra too, needed and deserved the same.
“Tamara, I promise two things. I will be very gentle and I will not hurt you.” Tyr said, holding her gaze.
“You are injured.” she said having noticed the various cuts and bruises on his face and shoulders.
“They will heal, Tamara.” he replied as he stood. He reached out with his right hand to her in a courtly gesture. “Shall we dance?” he continued.
“I don't know how to. . . . . . . . .” Tamarra replied. Stumbling and bumbling over her words.
“Then I will teach you.” Tyr replied.
“Teach me . . . . But, I have two left feet.” she started, then blushed bright green upon suddenly realizing what Tyr was referring to.
“Okay.” she said as she stood, and put her trembling hand into his.
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